My heart is overflowing with the events of the last two days.
On Sunday I preached at Ruth's church, the Evangelical Reformed Church. Sam had preached in January. For awhile it looked like I was not going to have my chance because of the multi-week celebration of the ordination of the young pastor who has been an intern here for several years. But then this last Sunday opened up. Providentially, the Gospel lesson according to the lectionary was the Samaritan Woman at the Well. When it was thought that I might preach in February I had thought I would use this lesson and here it was the appointed reading for the day worldwide!
The women's group of which Ruth is a part -- and which I have enjoyed so much here -- was thrilled. They prepared two very special songs. One, "Toi le femme" (You the woman), is the song of the synod-wide women's group. It affirms the place of women before God and offers praise of God. In one verse it says that once we were slaves but then . . . and now we are in the pulpit. They sang this as I climbed the steps into the high pulpit that towers over everybody. In the chorus when "Toi the femme" is sung three times, they all point at another woman, so I pointed at women in the congregation, here, there, and far in the back. It was great fun.
I'll post my sermon shortly. It was translated by a lovely woman who had been educated in England. I started out by summarizing my experiences here including the celebration of International Women's Day. I said I hoped for the day when we didn't need a special day to affirm women because they would be free to become all God meant them to be, and thus would be affirmed every day. But alas, that day has not come. I summarized the exploitation of women here and around the world which led me into the discussion of the Woman at the Well, a woman who probably had few options open to her and had had to get by somehow. Most to the point, I talked about how open she was to Jesus and to facing her sin -- a suitable theme for Lent, I might add. And then this woman became the first evangelist.
The sermon was very well received. I received positive feedback as I greeted people at the back of the church and at the luncheon following. But the most amazing feedback came last night, Monday night, at women's group. Ruth hosted the group here at her house and the attendance was grand. First they had their usual Bible study. Two of the women prepare the study each week. These women's preparation was impressive and the discussion was lively.
Then one of the women arose to speak to me on behalf of the group. Of course it was in French, but I got the sense of it. I wish I had it on my video camera so I could listen again! Basically she said it was no small thing for me to have stayed with my friend for three months and to do all I have done. She said I should remember that when I return I should remember that I'm not visiting just one friend, but many friends. Most touching of all, she said that I had not mounted the stairs of the pulpit all alone but that in doing so I had elevated all women.
I was very touched. Praise God. What a day! Perhaps even some of the women will visit us in Arizona.
The day after tomorrow I will get on the plane to fly home. Needless to say I am very excited about re-joining Sam there, about seeing all the pets and the home remodeling that has been going on there, and the parish. But I will shed tears. Ruth and I treasure our friendship even more than we ever have -- if that is possible -- and praise God for the magnificent gift that it is to each of us and, we pray, to others.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
It's Ash Wednesday
A blessed Lent to all.
At dinner a few days ago Ruth asked, “Where are you from?” This was information that I thought she well knew. I said, “Well, mostly Idaho. Most of my growing up years were there, and ten years of Sam and the boys and my life.” Raphael said, “That’s what all Americans say. You ask them where they are FROM and they tell you where they have LIVED.” Ruth said, “My kids have never lived in Mangamba (Raphael’s home village) but if you ask them where they are from, they will say, ‘Mangamba.’ If you ask where I am from, I will say, 'Vanga.'" It’s the Congolese village that Ruth’s parents – who were both orphaned – were from.
I said, “Well, what am I to say? Three of my four grandparents were from England, with at least two ancestors on the Mayflower in 1620. The fourth grandparent’s parents came from Germany, but I don’t know where.”
I added that having been raised in the West of the U.S, I’m even more removed from somewhere to really be FROM. My father’s parents came from Vermont to Montana in 1903. My mother’s parents came to Oregon from Ohio before that, and to there from Connecticut before that.
In my experience we Caucasian Westerners are also far removed from our ethnicities. When Sam and I lived in Scranton, PA it was far more important whether you were Irish, Welsh, Italian, Polish, or Russian. As a “Smith” I always felt pretty vanilla.
Both Ruth and Raphael reflected how different Americans’ way of looking at their origins is – how different the meaning of the word FROM really is. Again, I was reminded of the Navajo. They are much more deeply rooted to a piece of land which is the place they come from – and the place they return to for major family events and ceremonies.
ORDINATION
I went to an ordination on Sunday. Since our arrival in January the church has been preparing for the ordination of its young pastoral interne. Raphael, as a church elder, helped plan the events. There was even a special theme fabric for the event, so I had a kaba (a traditional dress) made. There were eleven people (10 men and one woman) being ordained at the close of the annual synod meeting of the church. It was held at the larger Evangelical church where I went for New Year’s Eve two years ago. When Ruth, Raphael and I arrived in the crowded church yard, we were singled out and escorted past all the outdoor tents and chairs into the side door of the church and seated at the very front, in the row right behind the ordinands’ wives – and the one husband. (Though retired, Raphael is still a recognized important person.) As usual, the service started a good 45 minutes to an hour late. There were lots of choirs in the balcony behind us, including drumming and traditional “hooting.” Some high officials arrived late, including the vice prime minister of the country. Everyone cheered as a group of small children escorted the ordinands to the front. The sermon was preached by a German official of the church in English and then translated into French. Ruth and Raphael were again disappointed in the translation. The translator’s refusal to translate the part about corruption in Cameroon stood out like a sore thumb! It was nice, for once, to be able to understand the sermon. He spoke of the importance of clergy as servants of Christ and of the people.
When it came time for the ordination we couldn’t actually see it because 400 black robed pastors gathered around the ordinands. (Among the 400 there were only about a dozen women pastors.) The most touching part came after they knelt and had hands laid upon them. Our church’s young ordinand, very tall and slender, openly wept. He has been working towards this since he was three. All of them had completed at least three years of seminary following college.
Following the ordination, the service dragged on and on. They were actually closing the synod meeting so there were lots of closing speeches and thanks. It had become very hot. Churches are not air-conditioned and electric fans can only do so much. We came home and cooled off and then left for the second phase of the celebration – an event at our young ordinand’s sponsoring church. The Titis thought it was a feast but it turned out being another long church service, mostly spoken in Douala. I loved when the small children danced into the church in traditional Douala style. One high point for the ordinand was when he climbed the long steps up into the pulpit. As you see in U.S. colonial Protestant churches, the pulpits are “high and lifted up.” Raphael says that only ordained people are allowed to preach from up there, so it was a big moment and everyone cheered. When the service was over we just came home. Though there would have been some food served then, none of us were in the mood for another mad food line.
Festivities will continue for the duration of the month. Next week I think the ordinand will be preaching at our church and the week after that there will be a big party. We do not yet know to what church he will be assigned.
At dinner a few days ago Ruth asked, “Where are you from?” This was information that I thought she well knew. I said, “Well, mostly Idaho. Most of my growing up years were there, and ten years of Sam and the boys and my life.” Raphael said, “That’s what all Americans say. You ask them where they are FROM and they tell you where they have LIVED.” Ruth said, “My kids have never lived in Mangamba (Raphael’s home village) but if you ask them where they are from, they will say, ‘Mangamba.’ If you ask where I am from, I will say, 'Vanga.'" It’s the Congolese village that Ruth’s parents – who were both orphaned – were from.
I said, “Well, what am I to say? Three of my four grandparents were from England, with at least two ancestors on the Mayflower in 1620. The fourth grandparent’s parents came from Germany, but I don’t know where.”
I added that having been raised in the West of the U.S, I’m even more removed from somewhere to really be FROM. My father’s parents came from Vermont to Montana in 1903. My mother’s parents came to Oregon from Ohio before that, and to there from Connecticut before that.
In my experience we Caucasian Westerners are also far removed from our ethnicities. When Sam and I lived in Scranton, PA it was far more important whether you were Irish, Welsh, Italian, Polish, or Russian. As a “Smith” I always felt pretty vanilla.
Both Ruth and Raphael reflected how different Americans’ way of looking at their origins is – how different the meaning of the word FROM really is. Again, I was reminded of the Navajo. They are much more deeply rooted to a piece of land which is the place they come from – and the place they return to for major family events and ceremonies.
ORDINATION
I went to an ordination on Sunday. Since our arrival in January the church has been preparing for the ordination of its young pastoral interne. Raphael, as a church elder, helped plan the events. There was even a special theme fabric for the event, so I had a kaba (a traditional dress) made. There were eleven people (10 men and one woman) being ordained at the close of the annual synod meeting of the church. It was held at the larger Evangelical church where I went for New Year’s Eve two years ago. When Ruth, Raphael and I arrived in the crowded church yard, we were singled out and escorted past all the outdoor tents and chairs into the side door of the church and seated at the very front, in the row right behind the ordinands’ wives – and the one husband. (Though retired, Raphael is still a recognized important person.) As usual, the service started a good 45 minutes to an hour late. There were lots of choirs in the balcony behind us, including drumming and traditional “hooting.” Some high officials arrived late, including the vice prime minister of the country. Everyone cheered as a group of small children escorted the ordinands to the front. The sermon was preached by a German official of the church in English and then translated into French. Ruth and Raphael were again disappointed in the translation. The translator’s refusal to translate the part about corruption in Cameroon stood out like a sore thumb! It was nice, for once, to be able to understand the sermon. He spoke of the importance of clergy as servants of Christ and of the people.
When it came time for the ordination we couldn’t actually see it because 400 black robed pastors gathered around the ordinands. (Among the 400 there were only about a dozen women pastors.) The most touching part came after they knelt and had hands laid upon them. Our church’s young ordinand, very tall and slender, openly wept. He has been working towards this since he was three. All of them had completed at least three years of seminary following college.
Following the ordination, the service dragged on and on. They were actually closing the synod meeting so there were lots of closing speeches and thanks. It had become very hot. Churches are not air-conditioned and electric fans can only do so much. We came home and cooled off and then left for the second phase of the celebration – an event at our young ordinand’s sponsoring church. The Titis thought it was a feast but it turned out being another long church service, mostly spoken in Douala. I loved when the small children danced into the church in traditional Douala style. One high point for the ordinand was when he climbed the long steps up into the pulpit. As you see in U.S. colonial Protestant churches, the pulpits are “high and lifted up.” Raphael says that only ordained people are allowed to preach from up there, so it was a big moment and everyone cheered. When the service was over we just came home. Though there would have been some food served then, none of us were in the mood for another mad food line.
Festivities will continue for the duration of the month. Next week I think the ordinand will be preaching at our church and the week after that there will be a big party. We do not yet know to what church he will be assigned.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
International Women's Day
Wow! The International Women's Day parade here in Douala, Cameroon, was amazing. Fortunately, we got to sit in a covered place. For two and a half hours, groups of women paraded by, all dressed in dresses made of the pink or green theme fabric. Waves and waves of literally thousands of women. All the women employees of various companies, women scientific researchers, all the women police, the women in the garbage service, mosquito control women, women attorneys, members of various associations and political parties, and more and more and more. It was fascinating to see the thousands of different ways women rendered (or paid to have rendered) their fabirc. When I close my eyes I can still see the pink and green passing by. It was an amazing show of the number of women who work everyday here to make a living and to improve the society. (And I'm very proud of the pink dress I made for me, and the green one for Doris, Ruth's sister. I'll remember this day for a long time!) Humorously, one beautiful young woman who was carrying her group's banner wore a mini-mini skirt of the theme fabric with matching leggings that didn't quite reach as high as the skirt hem. Skimpy top. Spike heals. Blond wig. The crowd cheered, presumably at her unorthodox approach to the garb. Another interesting side event, as it were, was a gathering of albinos in the audience near us. Albinoism is quite common here. I don't know if this was a formal organization, informal, or even extended family. It was a great place for people watching and I had a great time. Ruth says that many women are now out in the bars and other parties, leaving their husbands to fend for themselves for the entire day (and most of the night). We're home safe and sound and comfy with Ruth's husband in their comfortabe, AIR-CONDITIONED home!
Another experience of culture!
I've had some very interesting experiences in the last few days. The tasks of patient watching and waiting had to go into high gear.
Most interesting was a funeral in Aboland, where Raphael is from. It was a village farther into the bush than Mangamba. Ruth didn't actually know the person, but "The Wives and Daughters of Aboland" needed to be there because the deceased was a relative of one of them. It's important to the family to have lots of people at the funeral to say, "This was an important life." The funeral was in the yard of the home, which is the dominant place to have a funeral. It was a large home, though I didn't get to see inside. Ruth said one of the sons, who is a customs officer, built the compound for the whole family to come back to. There are several buildings. The most interesting was a separate, special room to receive the coffin. We didn't see that part of the service, but I understand the casket then went down, under this crypt sort of room for burial on site.
Anyway, we got there a bit late, of course. There were tents all around the house and hundreds and hundreds of people including many “notables,” traditional tribal chiefs and related persons. The service was conducted off of an elevated porch. It was very high and I couldn't actually see into it. Someone hustled around and found us some chairs in the shade of a carport sort of thing, a pass-through to the backyard. There were the speeches by family members that you expect at funerals most anywhere, tears, etc.. Mostly I fell into my stupor of not understanding anything since it was all in French or Abo. Then there was an offering. I guess it goes to the family to help pay the expenses of the shindig. Much to everyone's surprise and audible grumbling, the pastor said a second offering was being taken for the church's building plans. It was a sparse collection! Much to my dismay, in a prayer following the offering, the pastor asked God to make the people more generous next time an offering was taken!
I got a bit of video of the family processing to the backyard for the dinner. There was then a strange sort of solitary dancer passing by us, looking very traditional. I couldn't understand his role or purpose and neither could Ruth. By the way others received him, Ruth decided he was a deranged, uninvited visitor.
After the service we were contemplating leaving promptly (Ruth had said we would not stay long.) but then were asked to "come up higher" as it were. Ruth, always addressedas “Madame Titi,” her friend that had accompanied us and I were escorted to one of the covered banquet tables right next to the table of the notables. I was able to greet the Mayor of Souza to whom I had presented the microscope from Kearny two years ago. Beer was distributed and then, eventually, we were invited to the food line. Well, this is where my experience really gets dicey. As we moved forward in the line several people crowded in between Ruth and me. By this time it was getting more crowded, then chaotic. Come to find out, we had been led to the tail end of the serving tables, not the beginning. Other people were coming from the other end. So when the two groups came, there was chaos. Event coordinators tried to get my line to reorganize itself by going to the beginning of the serving tables. By this time Ruth and Elvire, six or seven people ahead of me, had gotten entirely through the line. People wouldn't cooperate with the organizers. The press of the crowd got tighter, and louder. So I stepped out of the line myself and went to the other end. But by this time, people at that end were crowding and cutting in, and reaching over each other, etc. Louder and louder. At first I said to myself, "OK, this is a cultural experience. I'll just join in this game, however it is played, and get some food." But with the press of the bodies, the heat, the loud voices, and my becoming increasingly self-conscious about being the only white person in the crowd, I said to myself, "I can't do this! I will not be a part of this food fight!" I took my plate with four tiny bits of food to the table. Ruth shared her meal with me. There was wine at the table and that helped!
A little later I saw another rude incident. A man who had been sitting at our table had left -- maybe to get in the food line, I don't know. Another gentleman came along and sat there. The first man left me with the impression that he was young and wanted to be treated importantly. The second man was much more interesting looking in some kind of a gentle way. Well, when the first man returned to the table he demanded for his place back. The second man very graciously left. Some time later, when other people at our table had cleared out, this second man came and joined us. Ruth introduced him -- a musician by avocation; educated in the U.S. I poured him a glass of wine and told him I had observed the incident -- and about my experience in the food line. He said, "Oh yes, part of our culture you have to experience." Raphael said that later, too. "Yes, the people do push and scramble for food."
I've reflected a lot on that experience. Where did this behavior come from? Were all these people deprived at some time, and therefore anxious about food? Is it just a quirk of culture? I don't know.
Most interesting was a funeral in Aboland, where Raphael is from. It was a village farther into the bush than Mangamba. Ruth didn't actually know the person, but "The Wives and Daughters of Aboland" needed to be there because the deceased was a relative of one of them. It's important to the family to have lots of people at the funeral to say, "This was an important life." The funeral was in the yard of the home, which is the dominant place to have a funeral. It was a large home, though I didn't get to see inside. Ruth said one of the sons, who is a customs officer, built the compound for the whole family to come back to. There are several buildings. The most interesting was a separate, special room to receive the coffin. We didn't see that part of the service, but I understand the casket then went down, under this crypt sort of room for burial on site.
Anyway, we got there a bit late, of course. There were tents all around the house and hundreds and hundreds of people including many “notables,” traditional tribal chiefs and related persons. The service was conducted off of an elevated porch. It was very high and I couldn't actually see into it. Someone hustled around and found us some chairs in the shade of a carport sort of thing, a pass-through to the backyard. There were the speeches by family members that you expect at funerals most anywhere, tears, etc.. Mostly I fell into my stupor of not understanding anything since it was all in French or Abo. Then there was an offering. I guess it goes to the family to help pay the expenses of the shindig. Much to everyone's surprise and audible grumbling, the pastor said a second offering was being taken for the church's building plans. It was a sparse collection! Much to my dismay, in a prayer following the offering, the pastor asked God to make the people more generous next time an offering was taken!
I got a bit of video of the family processing to the backyard for the dinner. There was then a strange sort of solitary dancer passing by us, looking very traditional. I couldn't understand his role or purpose and neither could Ruth. By the way others received him, Ruth decided he was a deranged, uninvited visitor.
After the service we were contemplating leaving promptly (Ruth had said we would not stay long.) but then were asked to "come up higher" as it were. Ruth, always addressedas “Madame Titi,” her friend that had accompanied us and I were escorted to one of the covered banquet tables right next to the table of the notables. I was able to greet the Mayor of Souza to whom I had presented the microscope from Kearny two years ago. Beer was distributed and then, eventually, we were invited to the food line. Well, this is where my experience really gets dicey. As we moved forward in the line several people crowded in between Ruth and me. By this time it was getting more crowded, then chaotic. Come to find out, we had been led to the tail end of the serving tables, not the beginning. Other people were coming from the other end. So when the two groups came, there was chaos. Event coordinators tried to get my line to reorganize itself by going to the beginning of the serving tables. By this time Ruth and Elvire, six or seven people ahead of me, had gotten entirely through the line. People wouldn't cooperate with the organizers. The press of the crowd got tighter, and louder. So I stepped out of the line myself and went to the other end. But by this time, people at that end were crowding and cutting in, and reaching over each other, etc. Louder and louder. At first I said to myself, "OK, this is a cultural experience. I'll just join in this game, however it is played, and get some food." But with the press of the bodies, the heat, the loud voices, and my becoming increasingly self-conscious about being the only white person in the crowd, I said to myself, "I can't do this! I will not be a part of this food fight!" I took my plate with four tiny bits of food to the table. Ruth shared her meal with me. There was wine at the table and that helped!
A little later I saw another rude incident. A man who had been sitting at our table had left -- maybe to get in the food line, I don't know. Another gentleman came along and sat there. The first man left me with the impression that he was young and wanted to be treated importantly. The second man was much more interesting looking in some kind of a gentle way. Well, when the first man returned to the table he demanded for his place back. The second man very graciously left. Some time later, when other people at our table had cleared out, this second man came and joined us. Ruth introduced him -- a musician by avocation; educated in the U.S. I poured him a glass of wine and told him I had observed the incident -- and about my experience in the food line. He said, "Oh yes, part of our culture you have to experience." Raphael said that later, too. "Yes, the people do push and scramble for food."
I've reflected a lot on that experience. Where did this behavior come from? Were all these people deprived at some time, and therefore anxious about food? Is it just a quirk of culture? I don't know.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Reflections on Culture
I have been reflecting a lot on culture these days. There are so many dimensions of culture, it's hard to unravel them. What is inherent in the culture here which is purely African? I have often wondered the same about the Navajo: what is a visible element of the culture that is basic, original, to this culture? Certainly the central importance of the family in both cultures. And what is inherent in the culture as a result of poverty, the sort of features that would not be there if poverty did not exist? Perhaps the expectation that you will receive payment for every little thing you do. (It's hard to conduct an informal market study in the village for our bakery because we would have to pay people to do it.) Volunteerism is not a common concept here. For a poor person here it takes your whole day, every bit of time, to conduct the daily affairs of your life.
What does amaze me is the way the Christian faith has planted in both Ruth and me a culture we share. Today at breakfast she told stories of the generosity and hospitality in her home growing up. Her father was a lay pastor at a Baptist mission in Congo. He and Ruth's mother were generous in their offering of food, water, and a place to sleep for people who came to the mission hospital and/or their family members. And they raised several children in addition to their own. In my own home, my parents were equally as hospitable and generous, though not as much was demanded of them. I can remember my father receiving transients who would plead for assistance. This is a layer of culture that transcends the other layers for the two of us. And of course, we share a culture as well-educated people. That's another layer.
I have also reflected on the "right" and "wrong" of culture. Generally, I believe that matters of culture are neither right or wrong. Just different. But sometimes you see things in a culture -- any culture -- that are just plain wrong wherever you see them. For example, so many cultures have an ethos of the possession and exploitation of women. That's wrong wherever you see it. That's clear. There are other features of culture that are much harder to discern the "rightness" or "wrongness" of. It's a slippery slope. One can slide right into a judgment that is not appropriate.
Lots to reflect upon here!
What does amaze me is the way the Christian faith has planted in both Ruth and me a culture we share. Today at breakfast she told stories of the generosity and hospitality in her home growing up. Her father was a lay pastor at a Baptist mission in Congo. He and Ruth's mother were generous in their offering of food, water, and a place to sleep for people who came to the mission hospital and/or their family members. And they raised several children in addition to their own. In my own home, my parents were equally as hospitable and generous, though not as much was demanded of them. I can remember my father receiving transients who would plead for assistance. This is a layer of culture that transcends the other layers for the two of us. And of course, we share a culture as well-educated people. That's another layer.
I have also reflected on the "right" and "wrong" of culture. Generally, I believe that matters of culture are neither right or wrong. Just different. But sometimes you see things in a culture -- any culture -- that are just plain wrong wherever you see them. For example, so many cultures have an ethos of the possession and exploitation of women. That's wrong wherever you see it. That's clear. There are other features of culture that are much harder to discern the "rightness" or "wrongness" of. It's a slippery slope. One can slide right into a judgment that is not appropriate.
Lots to reflect upon here!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
February -- Different focus
February 13, 2011
I’ve been quite remiss at keeping my blog up. Less is happening. The pace is more relaxed. My focus has shifted from assisting the nursing students to assisting Ruth with her NGO. I’m reading and working on the business plan for the vocational center.
Last week we did get out to the villages to follow up on some of the people the Linfield nursing students had seen. One teen had suffered for several years from a scrotal hernia that had grown quite large. The students paid for his repair surgery, and he is overjoyed. So we checked in on him. He is doing well. He expressed concern for his little sister. She is 7, very small and sad. Apparently she had not been feeling well for sometime. She had a skin problem on her scalp and the inside of one of her elbows. But she also complained of itching all over her back. But there was no visible problem there. Ruth became quite concerned that she may be HIV positive, given the fact that her parents both died of AIDS (when she was 3), she seemed to be losing weight, and itching is a symptom. So the next day we took her to the hospital in Mbanga. They ran an HIV blood test on her and it was negative!!!! We were all so relieved. The doctor gave her some ointment the nursing students had left, and the girl was then a much happier child. You should have seen her eat bread later (very hungry!) and her smile was a major reward. We were not charged anything for this visit. Ruth wants to continue following both of them more closely since the care they receive seems pretty minimal (both in terms of food and clothing). I told the teen how lucky his sister is to have a big brother like him.
Then we saw the mother whose little 2 year old has cerebral palsy. The nursing student who had taught the mother some physical therapy exercises for the disabled toddler would be proud to see this mother’s follow through. The child no longer cried when her legs were fully extended or drawn up against her chest!
While we were still in that village, two teenage girls dropped by. They are orphans approaching the age when they will no longer be in the country’s orphan system. They asked about the students’ concern for their vocational training -- sewing apprentice and hairdresser. It would cost only about 60,000 CFA ($120) for each of them so I do hope the students decide to follow through.
February 14, 2011
Happy Valentine’s Day – and Arizona Statehood Day. (Arizona’s 99th birthday) There is a French nursing student here with us in Douala for one month. She is mainly working at Souza hospital, but we take her to a village when we go so she will see that aspect of village life. She's learning to cope with late taxis and traffic jams! I like her a lot and she’s having a great internship.
The number of meetings we are having about WEH and our future bakery project is accelerating. Good meetings. Like many of us, Ruth has a board with several members who have lost interest. We met with one of them. It was good. I basically communicated this message: Those of us who want to help here in Africa in some way are totally dependent on you and on WEH. We need people here, working on the front lines, to do the work. If you don’t care about the poor here, why should we? I hope she got the message. Then we met with another board member who is still passionate about the work and excited about the future. We’ll be having a board meeting in the next week or two.
I keep working on the business plan for the barkery. We are going to hold several focus groups in the villages to assess bread consumption habits, preferences, and costs.
Seth, my second son, and his wife Tomomi are expecting the birth of their son Noah in the next few weeks in Japan. Sam and I are sitting at the edge of our seats! Seth has permission to call Ruth’s phone any time of the night or day when Noah arrives.
I’m using my French a lot. Ruth is impressed by my ability to express myself, but my ear still refuses to comprehend what it's hearing. With the French nursing student here, and me the only Anglophone, they don’t translate for me quite as often. That’s probably good in the name of French immersion, but I really don’t understand much.
I’ve been quite remiss at keeping my blog up. Less is happening. The pace is more relaxed. My focus has shifted from assisting the nursing students to assisting Ruth with her NGO. I’m reading and working on the business plan for the vocational center.
Last week we did get out to the villages to follow up on some of the people the Linfield nursing students had seen. One teen had suffered for several years from a scrotal hernia that had grown quite large. The students paid for his repair surgery, and he is overjoyed. So we checked in on him. He is doing well. He expressed concern for his little sister. She is 7, very small and sad. Apparently she had not been feeling well for sometime. She had a skin problem on her scalp and the inside of one of her elbows. But she also complained of itching all over her back. But there was no visible problem there. Ruth became quite concerned that she may be HIV positive, given the fact that her parents both died of AIDS (when she was 3), she seemed to be losing weight, and itching is a symptom. So the next day we took her to the hospital in Mbanga. They ran an HIV blood test on her and it was negative!!!! We were all so relieved. The doctor gave her some ointment the nursing students had left, and the girl was then a much happier child. You should have seen her eat bread later (very hungry!) and her smile was a major reward. We were not charged anything for this visit. Ruth wants to continue following both of them more closely since the care they receive seems pretty minimal (both in terms of food and clothing). I told the teen how lucky his sister is to have a big brother like him.
Then we saw the mother whose little 2 year old has cerebral palsy. The nursing student who had taught the mother some physical therapy exercises for the disabled toddler would be proud to see this mother’s follow through. The child no longer cried when her legs were fully extended or drawn up against her chest!
While we were still in that village, two teenage girls dropped by. They are orphans approaching the age when they will no longer be in the country’s orphan system. They asked about the students’ concern for their vocational training -- sewing apprentice and hairdresser. It would cost only about 60,000 CFA ($120) for each of them so I do hope the students decide to follow through.
February 14, 2011
Happy Valentine’s Day – and Arizona Statehood Day. (Arizona’s 99th birthday) There is a French nursing student here with us in Douala for one month. She is mainly working at Souza hospital, but we take her to a village when we go so she will see that aspect of village life. She's learning to cope with late taxis and traffic jams! I like her a lot and she’s having a great internship.
The number of meetings we are having about WEH and our future bakery project is accelerating. Good meetings. Like many of us, Ruth has a board with several members who have lost interest. We met with one of them. It was good. I basically communicated this message: Those of us who want to help here in Africa in some way are totally dependent on you and on WEH. We need people here, working on the front lines, to do the work. If you don’t care about the poor here, why should we? I hope she got the message. Then we met with another board member who is still passionate about the work and excited about the future. We’ll be having a board meeting in the next week or two.
I keep working on the business plan for the barkery. We are going to hold several focus groups in the villages to assess bread consumption habits, preferences, and costs.
Seth, my second son, and his wife Tomomi are expecting the birth of their son Noah in the next few weeks in Japan. Sam and I are sitting at the edge of our seats! Seth has permission to call Ruth’s phone any time of the night or day when Noah arrives.
I’m using my French a lot. Ruth is impressed by my ability to express myself, but my ear still refuses to comprehend what it's hearing. With the French nursing student here, and me the only Anglophone, they don’t translate for me quite as often. That’s probably good in the name of French immersion, but I really don’t understand much.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
AN AMAZING SUNDAY
OMG!! I’m not swearing. I don’t take the Lord’s name in vain. What I mean is: Oh my God, what a totally amazing day you have given me!
Church was the usual – love the music, but don’t understand most of the French. The electricity went off several times so it was quite hot. But after church Ruth and her sister and I were invited to join her women’s association bunch of friends at the house of one whose son got married yesterday. She wanted to share the leftovers and celebrate with her friends. It had been a small wedding, a legal thing, because the boy’s bride is taking a job up north teaching computer technology. They needed to be legally married to start this chapter of their lives. There will be a church wedding later.
I have been looking forward to going with Ruth to her women’s association meeting (which we will do tomorrow night). Today was a great introduction to the group. Here was a small living room/dining room area in a pleasant, modest home, packed with women – about 25 in all. For two hours they chattered and laughed and sang songs and danced and laughed some more. The songs were all in praise of God; one was a thanksgiving to God for being women of love and wisdom. That was really cool. It’s hard to convey the atmosphere. Imagine 25 women of all personalities, some quiet, some loud, some sassy, some hilarious. Imagine songs of praise that turn into dancing, a few women at a time in the small space. I couldn’t understand the chatter, but they included me non-verbally, including teaching me to whoop like they do. Oh my goodness, did we laugh and laugh. Oh yea, and we ate: fish sandwiches and chicken wings and peanuts and beer. A total scream. I drank every moment in, and they seemed to enjoy my presence, too, and my responses to being among them.
Finally, the son and his bride arrived, along with their wee son. Everyone banged on the hood of their car and sang some more and cheered and hollered. It was apparent that several have seen this boy grow up and were very happy for him. After one of them prayed for the couple I was asked to bless them. Wow, what an honor. I thanked God that we were created with the capacity of mutual love and support, and that they would honor and support one another all their days, and that they would raise their son to know God’s love and grace and power in his life.
I am still cheering in my heart for a magnificent afternoon. The bad news of the day is that I didn't have my camera with me!!
I’m also pleased that I now have email capability here in Ruth’s house, and I heard from Sam and both my boys. Sam got home safely and spent the night snugly at his cousin’s in Phoenix; Josh and Christy and Sarah talked with him on the phone; Seth has Ruth’s phone number and tells me Noah will call me when he arrives (that is, when he is born!) later in February. Seth also promised me up-to-date photos of both Tomomi and Noah.
Tomorrow I receive some African dresses I have had made, so I can wear one to the women’s association meeting tomorrow night. That will be fun.
God bless all of you, wherever you are, and whatever you have done on this Sabbath day.
Church was the usual – love the music, but don’t understand most of the French. The electricity went off several times so it was quite hot. But after church Ruth and her sister and I were invited to join her women’s association bunch of friends at the house of one whose son got married yesterday. She wanted to share the leftovers and celebrate with her friends. It had been a small wedding, a legal thing, because the boy’s bride is taking a job up north teaching computer technology. They needed to be legally married to start this chapter of their lives. There will be a church wedding later.
I have been looking forward to going with Ruth to her women’s association meeting (which we will do tomorrow night). Today was a great introduction to the group. Here was a small living room/dining room area in a pleasant, modest home, packed with women – about 25 in all. For two hours they chattered and laughed and sang songs and danced and laughed some more. The songs were all in praise of God; one was a thanksgiving to God for being women of love and wisdom. That was really cool. It’s hard to convey the atmosphere. Imagine 25 women of all personalities, some quiet, some loud, some sassy, some hilarious. Imagine songs of praise that turn into dancing, a few women at a time in the small space. I couldn’t understand the chatter, but they included me non-verbally, including teaching me to whoop like they do. Oh my goodness, did we laugh and laugh. Oh yea, and we ate: fish sandwiches and chicken wings and peanuts and beer. A total scream. I drank every moment in, and they seemed to enjoy my presence, too, and my responses to being among them.
Finally, the son and his bride arrived, along with their wee son. Everyone banged on the hood of their car and sang some more and cheered and hollered. It was apparent that several have seen this boy grow up and were very happy for him. After one of them prayed for the couple I was asked to bless them. Wow, what an honor. I thanked God that we were created with the capacity of mutual love and support, and that they would honor and support one another all their days, and that they would raise their son to know God’s love and grace and power in his life.
I am still cheering in my heart for a magnificent afternoon. The bad news of the day is that I didn't have my camera with me!!
I’m also pleased that I now have email capability here in Ruth’s house, and I heard from Sam and both my boys. Sam got home safely and spent the night snugly at his cousin’s in Phoenix; Josh and Christy and Sarah talked with him on the phone; Seth has Ruth’s phone number and tells me Noah will call me when he arrives (that is, when he is born!) later in February. Seth also promised me up-to-date photos of both Tomomi and Noah.
Tomorrow I receive some African dresses I have had made, so I can wear one to the women’s association meeting tomorrow night. That will be fun.
God bless all of you, wherever you are, and whatever you have done on this Sabbath day.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Saturday, January 29
Sam left Cameroon night before last. I don't know if he was detained on the East Coast due to weather. He should be sleeping safe and sound at his cousin's house in Phoenix, driving home on Saturday morning. I can't wait to hear of his safe return and the enthusiasm of the dogs, birds, and cat to see him. I also look forward to a full report of the house remodeling going on back in Arizona.
The Linfield nursing students wound up their work and left last night. They were really a fine bunch of girls and will make fantastic nurses.
This afternoon I will go with Ruth to the burial of a friend of theirs. Last night she and Raphael went to the wake. This will be a cultural experience for me -- and being a friend to my bereaved friend.
The Linfield nursing students wound up their work and left last night. They were really a fine bunch of girls and will make fantastic nurses.
This afternoon I will go with Ruth to the burial of a friend of theirs. Last night she and Raphael went to the wake. This will be a cultural experience for me -- and being a friend to my bereaved friend.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Monday, January 27, 2011
Monday, January 17
It’s very difficult keeping this journal up, knowing I can’t post to my blog on a daily basis.
There are several things that happened this last week that I must write down. They were moments of precious power and significance.
At the close of one day of hard, hot work, Saunders, one of our translators, came to me and said, “Sam is a very kind man. I like him. And every time he looks at you there is love in his eyes. I can see it. I can tell that he loves you very much.” We chatted about marriage for a time. I said a long marriage is partly gift from God and partly hard work. He said he hoped to find a love like we have. He is a fine young man, a journalist for a radio station here in the city. His beat is health issues. He will do a story on WEH, and he says he will stay involved. I think he has been moved deeply by our work in the villages, and by all he has seen of village life. Sam and I both like him a lot.
Another story is of the nursing student, Natalie. Last week the team had seen a blind 2-year old with cerebral palsy. She doesn’t look that old because she is so small and slight of build. She cannot sit up on her own, or hold her head up. Natalie indicated that she had experience with cerebral palsy. She has a young niece with it, and takes care of a 19-year old with it. So she wanted to visit this child and her family personally. So later last week the family brought her to see Natalie. I was in the car by stroke of luck. So was Ruth, who served as translator. Natalie lovingly lay the child in the back of the SUV and patiently showed the parents some physical therapy they should do with the child. She showed them how to stretch each of her limbs three times a day to keep them from pulling up tight, and she told them how important it is that they sit her up and keep her back straight so she will be more comfortable as she grows. She learned from them that the child eats only mashed food, but does eat well. And she told them that she could see they love her very much. She said the child is lucky to have them for parents and that they can give her a comfortable life. Natalie herself exhibited so much love and compassion for the child, and for her parents and their circumstance. (The brain damage was a result of some medications given to the mother early in her pregnancy.) She assured them that it does not mean their next child will be like this. After it was all over, Natalie said to me, “You were there watching me, and the warmth and encouragement in your face helped me to do what I was doing.” Natalie is a fine nurse! The students had me pick up a blender and basin for bathing for the child to give to the family. Though the family had been hoping for a miracle from the nurses, or a major intervention – like taking the child to America for healing – I could see that they were grateful to Natalie for the time and care and attention she gave them and their baby.
Another most moving experience was church yesterday and the lunch that followed. Sam was the preacher. He had taken a whole day to prepare his sermon but he was not at all confident about it. He said it felt like there was too much reiteration of the Gospel reading in it, and that there was not enough additional substance. And he felt constrained by having to actually write down the sermon – which he rarely does – and by the knowledge that he would be pausing often for the pastor to read the translation in French. Ruth and Raphael translated the sermon and Raphael delivered to the pastor on Saturday night. Sam was very sermon going to bed on Saturday night, and on Sunday morning. But, of course, it went well. The people clearly enjoyed it, even applauding at the end! Sam included a song in the sermon, and all the people joined in.
Following the service, the pastor and three elders came to dinner at the Titis’. The conversation at the table was rich beyond compare. They all said the sermon was great, and that the congregation was obviously fully engaged. They liked Sam’s point that the Church is the people, not the building, and that we are all called, like the disciples, to minister in Christ’s name. In spite of the fact that the pastor made an error in translation, those who understand English said they liked Sam’s point that John the Baptist had been a messenger and that Jesus was, himself, the message.
Ruth asked Sam if he would change anything in his sermon were he preaching at home. He said he would not. Then Ruth confessed to the whole assemblage that when I had become an Episcopalian she had felt that I betrayed our Baptist heritage. In the last three years since we were reunited she has asked me many questions about that transition in my life and I have assured her that I did not have to renounce anything, that my life was richer for that change. So Ruth said she is now confident that I did not betray our heritage, and that she is learning that the differences among denominations are pretty minimal. They all agreed. I said to Ruth, “I forgive you,” and to the others, “we are all the Church of Jesus Christ.”
At the conclusion of the dinner, the pastor asked one of the elders, a lay woman named Berthe, to say a prayer. Though it was in French, Sam and I both felt that it was a profoundly powerful prayer and that we were all united around the table in and through it. At one time during the meal I said, “When people truly want to understand each other, they find a way.” Indeed, in spite of the language barrier, we had understood one another.
And the pastor confirmed that he wants me to preach at some time before I go. I wasn’t sure but that some sexism might prevent that from happening, so I’m very excited about the opportunity. Perhaps I will be able to read my own sermon in French.
Today the students are off for the first day of their last week of work. They are going all the way to Penja, a two hour drive. I stayed home to go to the dentist. I have had my jaw dislocate! But it has improved a great deal and Raphael and I decided I probably didn’t need to go the dentist. So I had a day to go to the Internet café and to work on some ideas for the bakery cooperative. So be it. And thanks be to God.
Sam leaves on Thursday night. I have so enjoyed having him with me this time, to see all I have seen. I will miss him as I enter a new chapter of stay here this weekend.
It’s very difficult keeping this journal up, knowing I can’t post to my blog on a daily basis.
There are several things that happened this last week that I must write down. They were moments of precious power and significance.
At the close of one day of hard, hot work, Saunders, one of our translators, came to me and said, “Sam is a very kind man. I like him. And every time he looks at you there is love in his eyes. I can see it. I can tell that he loves you very much.” We chatted about marriage for a time. I said a long marriage is partly gift from God and partly hard work. He said he hoped to find a love like we have. He is a fine young man, a journalist for a radio station here in the city. His beat is health issues. He will do a story on WEH, and he says he will stay involved. I think he has been moved deeply by our work in the villages, and by all he has seen of village life. Sam and I both like him a lot.
Another story is of the nursing student, Natalie. Last week the team had seen a blind 2-year old with cerebral palsy. She doesn’t look that old because she is so small and slight of build. She cannot sit up on her own, or hold her head up. Natalie indicated that she had experience with cerebral palsy. She has a young niece with it, and takes care of a 19-year old with it. So she wanted to visit this child and her family personally. So later last week the family brought her to see Natalie. I was in the car by stroke of luck. So was Ruth, who served as translator. Natalie lovingly lay the child in the back of the SUV and patiently showed the parents some physical therapy they should do with the child. She showed them how to stretch each of her limbs three times a day to keep them from pulling up tight, and she told them how important it is that they sit her up and keep her back straight so she will be more comfortable as she grows. She learned from them that the child eats only mashed food, but does eat well. And she told them that she could see they love her very much. She said the child is lucky to have them for parents and that they can give her a comfortable life. Natalie herself exhibited so much love and compassion for the child, and for her parents and their circumstance. (The brain damage was a result of some medications given to the mother early in her pregnancy.) She assured them that it does not mean their next child will be like this. After it was all over, Natalie said to me, “You were there watching me, and the warmth and encouragement in your face helped me to do what I was doing.” Natalie is a fine nurse! The students had me pick up a blender and basin for bathing for the child to give to the family. Though the family had been hoping for a miracle from the nurses, or a major intervention – like taking the child to America for healing – I could see that they were grateful to Natalie for the time and care and attention she gave them and their baby.
Another most moving experience was church yesterday and the lunch that followed. Sam was the preacher. He had taken a whole day to prepare his sermon but he was not at all confident about it. He said it felt like there was too much reiteration of the Gospel reading in it, and that there was not enough additional substance. And he felt constrained by having to actually write down the sermon – which he rarely does – and by the knowledge that he would be pausing often for the pastor to read the translation in French. Ruth and Raphael translated the sermon and Raphael delivered to the pastor on Saturday night. Sam was very sermon going to bed on Saturday night, and on Sunday morning. But, of course, it went well. The people clearly enjoyed it, even applauding at the end! Sam included a song in the sermon, and all the people joined in.
Following the service, the pastor and three elders came to dinner at the Titis’. The conversation at the table was rich beyond compare. They all said the sermon was great, and that the congregation was obviously fully engaged. They liked Sam’s point that the Church is the people, not the building, and that we are all called, like the disciples, to minister in Christ’s name. In spite of the fact that the pastor made an error in translation, those who understand English said they liked Sam’s point that John the Baptist had been a messenger and that Jesus was, himself, the message.
Ruth asked Sam if he would change anything in his sermon were he preaching at home. He said he would not. Then Ruth confessed to the whole assemblage that when I had become an Episcopalian she had felt that I betrayed our Baptist heritage. In the last three years since we were reunited she has asked me many questions about that transition in my life and I have assured her that I did not have to renounce anything, that my life was richer for that change. So Ruth said she is now confident that I did not betray our heritage, and that she is learning that the differences among denominations are pretty minimal. They all agreed. I said to Ruth, “I forgive you,” and to the others, “we are all the Church of Jesus Christ.”
At the conclusion of the dinner, the pastor asked one of the elders, a lay woman named Berthe, to say a prayer. Though it was in French, Sam and I both felt that it was a profoundly powerful prayer and that we were all united around the table in and through it. At one time during the meal I said, “When people truly want to understand each other, they find a way.” Indeed, in spite of the language barrier, we had understood one another.
And the pastor confirmed that he wants me to preach at some time before I go. I wasn’t sure but that some sexism might prevent that from happening, so I’m very excited about the opportunity. Perhaps I will be able to read my own sermon in French.
Today the students are off for the first day of their last week of work. They are going all the way to Penja, a two hour drive. I stayed home to go to the dentist. I have had my jaw dislocate! But it has improved a great deal and Raphael and I decided I probably didn’t need to go the dentist. So I had a day to go to the Internet café and to work on some ideas for the bakery cooperative. So be it. And thanks be to God.
Sam leaves on Thursday night. I have so enjoyed having him with me this time, to see all I have seen. I will miss him as I enter a new chapter of stay here this weekend.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
January 18, 2011
I can't believe how hard it is to get anything done here. The last few days I've been running errands for Ruth and the Linfield Health Promotion Team. One assignment was to get mosquito nets. Together, the Friends of WEH and the Linfield Team purchased 500. They were ordered last week and we had to wait for them to be impregnated with insecticide. Last week one of the drivers took me there to put down our first payment. Then we discovered we had been told the wrong figure and had to go all the way home again (20 min in congested city traffic) to get the right amount. Yesterday we went to pick up the nets as instructed, by noon, and were told they wouldn't be ready until 2. We couldn't wait that long, so today we set out again. When we got there we found our four humongous sacks full of nets, but a man was in hot debate about them. He wanted to buy two from our lot, even though there were others available on the shelf. But ours were prepared for three years safety; those for only 6 months. Well, we finally got that worked out, but then had to laboriously count all 500 to be sure of an honest count. Whew! It was all quite an adventure, but we got them, and can begin delivering them to WEH's assigned children tomorrow. No matter where you look, things are being done lo-tech and slowly. In a construction project near Ruth's house, they are hoisting mixed cement up three stories on a manual pully with a bucket on the end of a rope. Even in the city, low tech is everywhere -- but it is employing lots of people that way -- but of course at very low wages. Getting used to how work is accomplished is confusing. I asked Ruth if it was that confusing when she came to the U.S. in 1965. She said it was more so. A small town African 20-year old dealing with the Western world then.
Sam is going to be preaching this Sunday in Ruth's church, with Raphael translating. He is really looking forward to it.
I'll try to get back to the Internet cafe soon.
Sam is going to be preaching this Sunday in Ruth's church, with Raphael translating. He is really looking forward to it.
I'll try to get back to the Internet cafe soon.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Tuesday, January 11
Sam and I took the day off today. We needed a break from the incessant driving out to the bush, all over the countryside, and back to town very late. But we got lots of work done here in Douala, sort of. Ruth asked us to go with her nephew, Eric, to pay a deposit for the mosquito nets we have ordered. A driver took the three of us in his car (which had to have cost someone some money – probably Ruth). It took about 20 minutes to get there, where we found out they had been trying to call Ruth. They needed half payment, which was less than we had with us. It was nice that they had tried to get a hold of us, but we had to drive home again, get this large stack of Central African francs from our designated mosquito net money, and drive back. That errand ended up taking about three hours! Then Eric helped us find a camera store where Sam could replace a lost camera battery charger (we hope we find the lost one in Mangamba tomorrow, but we had to get all his cameras charged somehow.) It was an adventure checking out several stores and then finding one that actually had it. We were very fortunate, since his is a discontinued camera.
Ruth and Doris (her sister and WEH worker) have arrived home early today, 7:30 p.m. That’s great. She reported that they had a good day in Muyuka and are all set for us to all go to Miang tomorrow.
Ruth and Doris (her sister and WEH worker) have arrived home early today, 7:30 p.m. That’s great. She reported that they had a good day in Muyuka and are all set for us to all go to Miang tomorrow.
Monday, January 10
Today, Sam rode with the driver who was taking breakfast out to the students. Ruth, the WEH workers, and I followed later, driving directly to a small school at Kotto Up. It’s an English-speaking community, made up of refugees from English-speaking parts of Africa. It was good that the students could try their wings in English. Fortunately we had a translator who could speak pidjin, a West-African adaptation of English. It really helped some of the kids’ comprehension. One group of students conducted health assessments of the WEH orphans, one group taught about malaria, including a lesson on how to reduce the mosquito population and protect yourself from the malarial mosquito. Then they would play a form of freeze tag where the persons who were “it” were the mosquitoes and the others had to escape from them. If you ran to the “net” you were safe. The kids enjoyed that.
The amazing thing was the apparent quality of teaching at this little country school. The information on the broken and ragged blackboards was quite sophisticated. I hope I can post pictures of this little four room school with no windows or doors. It is appalling that education must go on in such dilapidated buildings. I understand that there is a single donor somewhere who pays the teachers’ salaries.
It was really hot and there was little shade, so I was glad it was a half-day of work. We rode with the students in their bus back to Mangamba, shared dinner with them, and returned home to Douala. Several students expressed what a fulfilling day it was for them. They enjoyed working with the children tremendously.
We have pieced together more information about the shooting in Arizona. It was at a Safeway in Oro Valley where we frequently drive. And we understand that one of the dead was a member of a Methodist church there. I still can't find a coherent motive. Was it a response to hate rhetoric? Why Giffords?
The amazing thing was the apparent quality of teaching at this little country school. The information on the broken and ragged blackboards was quite sophisticated. I hope I can post pictures of this little four room school with no windows or doors. It is appalling that education must go on in such dilapidated buildings. I understand that there is a single donor somewhere who pays the teachers’ salaries.
It was really hot and there was little shade, so I was glad it was a half-day of work. We rode with the students in their bus back to Mangamba, shared dinner with them, and returned home to Douala. Several students expressed what a fulfilling day it was for them. They enjoyed working with the children tremendously.
We have pieced together more information about the shooting in Arizona. It was at a Safeway in Oro Valley where we frequently drive. And we understand that one of the dead was a member of a Methodist church there. I still can't find a coherent motive. Was it a response to hate rhetoric? Why Giffords?
Sunday, January 9
Well, today is my oldest sister's birthday. The older set of twins celebrated theirs on the 3rd. Happy Birthday, you three.
Today we went to Mangamba again, this time for church. Ruth and Raphael had the church built several years ago to replace the original German-built church that was in ruins. It was a bit disappointing that the choir was gone, singing somewhere else, so we didn't get to hear them. Hence, the congregation was smaller than those of us who were visitors, but it was enjoyable anyway. It reminded me of the small churches Sam and I have always served. Most was in French, but the local school teacher provided us with a wonderful welcome in English.
We thought we'd be visiting the chief in that village but he apparently was not in town as planned.
What is this about a shooting in Arizona that we saw on French TV? We'll try to get info on the web.
Today we went to Mangamba again, this time for church. Ruth and Raphael had the church built several years ago to replace the original German-built church that was in ruins. It was a bit disappointing that the choir was gone, singing somewhere else, so we didn't get to hear them. Hence, the congregation was smaller than those of us who were visitors, but it was enjoyable anyway. It reminded me of the small churches Sam and I have always served. Most was in French, but the local school teacher provided us with a wonderful welcome in English.
We thought we'd be visiting the chief in that village but he apparently was not in town as planned.
What is this about a shooting in Arizona that we saw on French TV? We'll try to get info on the web.
Saturday, January 8
What a bizarre day! Nothing turns out as we think it will. I do remember that from last time, but it does get frustrating. When we went to bed last night I thought we’d be leaving about 11:00 a.m. to go to Mangamba. We couldn’t go earlier because there was a funeral in the village, and there was no point in having any kind of a clinic until the funeral was over. Next thing I knew, we wouldn’t be leaving until 2 or so. We left about 3:30. There were just a lot of logistical delays. When we arrived out at Mangamba, at about 5:30, the decision was made to go see the hospital in Mbanga. I thought it was a little late to do that, but at least the students would have been able to do something that day. On the way we took a detour to Kotto Up to try to track down Monday’s translator. Ruth couldn't find him. When we got to the hospital, it was getting dark. Unfortunately, then, no one was at the hospital with the authority to give the students a tour. We are learning that communications are very difficult. Sometimes you don't have a phone number so you can't call (no phone book) or you call on a cell phone and it isn't working at the moment.
So we drove the half-hour back to Mangamba. On the way Ruth bought some kerosene from a roadside vendor for the lanterns at Mangamba -- in case the electricity goes off. We didn’t get back to Mangamba until nearly 9. Then there was dinner and gathering up the serving dishes that needed to come back to Douala. We got home about 11. It was all pretty frustrating. We see first hand how hard it is to get things done here. It doesn’t pay to get heavily invested in what we think might happen because things always change.
So we drove the half-hour back to Mangamba. On the way Ruth bought some kerosene from a roadside vendor for the lanterns at Mangamba -- in case the electricity goes off. We didn’t get back to Mangamba until nearly 9. Then there was dinner and gathering up the serving dishes that needed to come back to Douala. We got home about 11. It was all pretty frustrating. We see first hand how hard it is to get things done here. It doesn’t pay to get heavily invested in what we think might happen because things always change.
Friday, January 7
Well, I missed a few days. We enjoyed semi-relaxation awaiting the nursing students from Linfield College. Their travel was uneventful. It is unfortunate that one of the students couldn’t come though. She had lost her passport, and though it was quickly replaced, there was no way to get a new visa. That would require mailing the passport to Washington D.C. and having them stamp it and return it. No way to get it done. She must be so disappointed. I really like them all. They are a great bunch. Several have international experience and are very curious about all they see. They do not judge what they see by Western standards, but seek ways to understand the what, why and how.
The students spent a couple of days getting oriented here in Douala and then moved out to Mangamba, Raphael's home village. Ruth and Raphael have a second home there. They figured out who was going to room with whom and how to install their mosquito nets. The coolest thing was that Ruth had planned a surprise. In the afternoon a group of children and several men arrived in their back yard and began drumming and dancing. They were really good. Raphael later said he was very impressed that the children had learned traditional dancing. It reminded me of Native American dancing in Arizona, but the beat is very different. Later more grown men came, and a couple of women. They got all the students dancing. There was lots and lots of laughter and exchange of appreciation. I hope I can figure out how to post a snippet of the dancing!
We got back to Douala rather late. The election in Sudan on whether to separate the North and South is all next week. That is very much on our minds and in our prayers.
The students spent a couple of days getting oriented here in Douala and then moved out to Mangamba, Raphael's home village. Ruth and Raphael have a second home there. They figured out who was going to room with whom and how to install their mosquito nets. The coolest thing was that Ruth had planned a surprise. In the afternoon a group of children and several men arrived in their back yard and began drumming and dancing. They were really good. Raphael later said he was very impressed that the children had learned traditional dancing. It reminded me of Native American dancing in Arizona, but the beat is very different. Later more grown men came, and a couple of women. They got all the students dancing. There was lots and lots of laughter and exchange of appreciation. I hope I can figure out how to post a snippet of the dancing!
We got back to Douala rather late. The election in Sudan on whether to separate the North and South is all next week. That is very much on our minds and in our prayers.
Monday, January 2
Well, darn, we slept in again. The shutters on our windows make it impossible for us to know when daylight has arrived. We had hoped the tailor would come today, but she did not. Barb and Joe and Sam and I went to the new grocery store around the corner, a real treat for us westerners. There were unusual foods of course, but a “real” meat section, refrigerated section, etc. And lots of miscellaneous merchandise upstairs.
In the afternoon, Raphael and Ruth and Barbara went out to Mangamba to take the mattresses for the students’ beds and to think about arrangements out there. I worked on the knitting machine some more. A delicious peppery beef soup for dinner.
We are getting to bed about 10. The plan is to go walking in the morning with Raphael at about 6:30 before it gets too hot. He has a plan about a good place to take us so we can really stretch out our legs.
In the afternoon, Raphael and Ruth and Barbara went out to Mangamba to take the mattresses for the students’ beds and to think about arrangements out there. I worked on the knitting machine some more. A delicious peppery beef soup for dinner.
We are getting to bed about 10. The plan is to go walking in the morning with Raphael at about 6:30 before it gets too hot. He has a plan about a good place to take us so we can really stretch out our legs.
Sunday, Jan 2
We went to church a bit before 10 a.m. It was to start at 10 but couldn’t because the earlier Douala-speaking service got out later than scheduled. Ruth was in her Christian Women’s Union dress and processed in with her women’s group to form one of the choirs at the front of the church. Raphael was sitting up front somewhere with the other trustees. We got a good seat right in front of a fan. The service lasted nearly three hours. There were announcements and welcomes. They asked all the guests to stand up and introduce themselves. Sam had been asked to say a few words on behalf of all of us and he did a very nice job of it. The pastor didn’t get everything translated, but our pleasure at being there was communicated. The sermon was only about 20 minutes long, but there was lots of singing. One of the guest singers from the entertainment the night before was there and led the congregation in some “happy clappy” kind of Christian songs. Like in the U.S. there seems to be discomfort between those who advocate for more praise music and those who prefer classical Christian worship. And communion in a church of nearly 800 people takes a long time. We all enjoyed it immensely.
Relaxing Sunday afternoon. Joe and Barb and David and Sam and I played UNO. We got to bed at a time more to our liking, around 9 p.m.
Relaxing Sunday afternoon. Joe and Barb and David and Sam and I played UNO. We got to bed at a time more to our liking, around 9 p.m.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Jan 1, 2011 - Saturday -- New Year's Day
We all slept late. Breakfast at 11. Lunch at 3. Dinner at 10 p.m. We are definitely on French time! The lunch was magnificent. Foie gras. Chicken. Pork. Tons of vegetables. Fine wine. Lots of conversation split between French and English. Ruth and David kindly translated what was going on from time to time. The Ivory Coast continues to be a point of conversation and concern.
December 31, 2010 - Friday, New Year's Eve Day
Friday, December 31
New Year’s Eve day. We had a relaxing day. David Groff, one of the Linfield group leaders, arrived. Church started at about 10 p.m. Lots of great singing. After midnight we went outside for hours of entertainment. Lots of youth and children singing, and a couple of professionals. A skit. Food. The most fun was when a group of women went at the jitterbug with great enthusiasm. It will be a kick to tease people back home about the Africans we saw dancing in the night. We went home at about 3 a.m.!!!
New Year’s Eve day. We had a relaxing day. David Groff, one of the Linfield group leaders, arrived. Church started at about 10 p.m. Lots of great singing. After midnight we went outside for hours of entertainment. Lots of youth and children singing, and a couple of professionals. A skit. Food. The most fun was when a group of women went at the jitterbug with great enthusiasm. It will be a kick to tease people back home about the Africans we saw dancing in the night. We went home at about 3 a.m.!!!
December 30, 2010 - Thursday
12/30/2010 - Thursday
Sam and I both awoke about 6 a.m. Good! We’re getting back on schedule. Breakfast was not ready on the veranda, though, so we went back to sleep. We awoke again at about 9 and joined Barb and Joe for breakfast overlooking the wharf again. Then we packed our things and got a taxi to move to Ruth’s. Actually, we had to take two trips because we had too many suitcases for the taxi.
Eloi served us a wonderful brunch of papaya and crepes and coffee. In the afternoon Josephine and Djiva, two of the women who work with Women, Environment, and Health (WEH) came by and we had a grand reunion. Ruth set us to learning how to use a knitting machine she had picked up in the U.S. She’d like me to teach some women how to use it for making baby blankets for sale. It was fun working collaboratively through the language barrier to assemble and learn to work the machine.
In the late afternoon Mark, an old friend of Raphael’s from his childhood, came to also be a house guest for a few days. He speaks some English, which is helpful. At dinner the French speakers got into a discussion about the situation in the Ivory Coast. Ruth and Raphael and the house guest and Ruth’s sister really went at it! It seems that here the style of debate is to talk all at once, with great enthusiasm, louder and louder. It was really quite hilarious to behold. Earlier in the afternoon, Ruth and Raphael went out to get a promised new puppy from a litter of 11 Rottweiler pups. They brought home a precious male. I think they will train him well and he will be a nice Rottweiler. They are still working at coming up with a name for him, in consultation with their adult children around the world.
When dinner was over I said, “Je pense que le temps pour le lit est arrivee.” (I think the time for the bed has arrived.) That was funny – and fun.
Sam and I both awoke about 6 a.m. Good! We’re getting back on schedule. Breakfast was not ready on the veranda, though, so we went back to sleep. We awoke again at about 9 and joined Barb and Joe for breakfast overlooking the wharf again. Then we packed our things and got a taxi to move to Ruth’s. Actually, we had to take two trips because we had too many suitcases for the taxi.
Eloi served us a wonderful brunch of papaya and crepes and coffee. In the afternoon Josephine and Djiva, two of the women who work with Women, Environment, and Health (WEH) came by and we had a grand reunion. Ruth set us to learning how to use a knitting machine she had picked up in the U.S. She’d like me to teach some women how to use it for making baby blankets for sale. It was fun working collaboratively through the language barrier to assemble and learn to work the machine.
In the late afternoon Mark, an old friend of Raphael’s from his childhood, came to also be a house guest for a few days. He speaks some English, which is helpful. At dinner the French speakers got into a discussion about the situation in the Ivory Coast. Ruth and Raphael and the house guest and Ruth’s sister really went at it! It seems that here the style of debate is to talk all at once, with great enthusiasm, louder and louder. It was really quite hilarious to behold. Earlier in the afternoon, Ruth and Raphael went out to get a promised new puppy from a litter of 11 Rottweiler pups. They brought home a precious male. I think they will train him well and he will be a nice Rottweiler. They are still working at coming up with a name for him, in consultation with their adult children around the world.
When dinner was over I said, “Je pense que le temps pour le lit est arrivee.” (I think the time for the bed has arrived.) That was funny – and fun.
December 29, 2010 - Wednesday
12/29/2010 - Wednesday
The next “morning” we awoke at about 1 p.m. All of us slept long and hard. We ate a leisurely brunch on one of the hotel’s verandas. There was a breeze off the wharf so we were very comfortable. After the long, relaxing time there we walked up the street to see the city. We promised Ruth we would be careful, stay together, and watch for pick-pocketers. The street was as I’d remembered from last time. Traffic is all helter-skelter. Cars are parked on and across every curb and sidewalk they can find, and there are many obstacles everywhere. Sidewalks are intermittent and rubble and trash collect here and there. Generally the businesses are very small with tightly focused merchandise, but we came upon one large shop that you might say is a department store. It is the first such store I’ve seen. There was something for every room in the house, including appliance and furniture sections. The prices in kitchenware varied widely from a beautiful pewter creamer for about $60 to very inexpensive “dollar store” sorts of things probably made in China or Korea. I have been reading about business and retail in Africa, so this was very interesting to me. At about 5:30 we took a taxi to Ruth’s for dinner and returned to the hotel in time to be in bed by 10.
The next “morning” we awoke at about 1 p.m. All of us slept long and hard. We ate a leisurely brunch on one of the hotel’s verandas. There was a breeze off the wharf so we were very comfortable. After the long, relaxing time there we walked up the street to see the city. We promised Ruth we would be careful, stay together, and watch for pick-pocketers. The street was as I’d remembered from last time. Traffic is all helter-skelter. Cars are parked on and across every curb and sidewalk they can find, and there are many obstacles everywhere. Sidewalks are intermittent and rubble and trash collect here and there. Generally the businesses are very small with tightly focused merchandise, but we came upon one large shop that you might say is a department store. It is the first such store I’ve seen. There was something for every room in the house, including appliance and furniture sections. The prices in kitchenware varied widely from a beautiful pewter creamer for about $60 to very inexpensive “dollar store” sorts of things probably made in China or Korea. I have been reading about business and retail in Africa, so this was very interesting to me. At about 5:30 we took a taxi to Ruth’s for dinner and returned to the hotel in time to be in bed by 10.
December 28, 2010
12/28/2010 - Tuesday
We are in Cameroon. Our 4-legged flight was quite uneventful. There was, of course, all the stress of baggage check-in (the four of us had eight large suitcases in addition to our carry-ons). We had to go through security-check several times, and our departure from Zurich was delayed an hour. But these are "uneventful" things.
From Zurich to Douala my seat mate was a lovely young Cameroonian woman coming home to visit for a few weeks. She just finished college in Iowa and is taking a job as a corporate internal auditor in Omaha. We discussed everything under the sun including development issues, her Islam heritage, etc. etc. I'd love to stay in touch with her! (Hello, Fatima, if you are reading this.)
The "event" of our trip was our experience at the Douala airport. Ruth had told us that she would not be returning until two days after we arrived, so we had made arrangements to stay at Foyer du Marin, a hotel of the Seaman’s Mission, for two nights. Ruth had said that she would try to arrange for a driver to pick us up, but we also had phone numbers for Foyer taxis in case we needed them. After we had had our passports and yellow fever cards checked we moved on to the large baggage claim room. We didn’t find anybody looking for us, so we went into “Plan B” mode. I knew I needed to change some money to CFAs in order to call and pay a taxi. The whole situation was complicated by the fact that we brought eight huge suitcases and all our carry-ons. And then Barbara couldn’t find one of her suitcases. So as she went searching for it along all the baggage carousels in this tightly packed room of travellers, I went looking to figure out how to accomplish my tasks. I could find neither a phone nor a money exchange. Then, at the far side of the room, I saw an office of tourism. Here was someone to help me! It took awhile, but she got us and all our luggage out past the customs officials without having to have our bags searched and without having to pay “duty” according to those official’s whims. In the middle of all that, Ruth appeared. She had come home in time to meet us. She negotiated a reasonable fee for the tourism lady and her associates and all their trouble. In so doing, she was establishing important ongoing relationships at the airport. There was a scramble to get all our luggage loaded and to get out of there before officials got overly curious about all our bags. Finally we were back at Ruth’s marvelous home, greeted by Raphael and the house staff whom we were so happy to see again. After a fine, late dinner we were taken to our hotel. All four of us slept for 12 hours!
We are in Cameroon. Our 4-legged flight was quite uneventful. There was, of course, all the stress of baggage check-in (the four of us had eight large suitcases in addition to our carry-ons). We had to go through security-check several times, and our departure from Zurich was delayed an hour. But these are "uneventful" things.
From Zurich to Douala my seat mate was a lovely young Cameroonian woman coming home to visit for a few weeks. She just finished college in Iowa and is taking a job as a corporate internal auditor in Omaha. We discussed everything under the sun including development issues, her Islam heritage, etc. etc. I'd love to stay in touch with her! (Hello, Fatima, if you are reading this.)
The "event" of our trip was our experience at the Douala airport. Ruth had told us that she would not be returning until two days after we arrived, so we had made arrangements to stay at Foyer du Marin, a hotel of the Seaman’s Mission, for two nights. Ruth had said that she would try to arrange for a driver to pick us up, but we also had phone numbers for Foyer taxis in case we needed them. After we had had our passports and yellow fever cards checked we moved on to the large baggage claim room. We didn’t find anybody looking for us, so we went into “Plan B” mode. I knew I needed to change some money to CFAs in order to call and pay a taxi. The whole situation was complicated by the fact that we brought eight huge suitcases and all our carry-ons. And then Barbara couldn’t find one of her suitcases. So as she went searching for it along all the baggage carousels in this tightly packed room of travellers, I went looking to figure out how to accomplish my tasks. I could find neither a phone nor a money exchange. Then, at the far side of the room, I saw an office of tourism. Here was someone to help me! It took awhile, but she got us and all our luggage out past the customs officials without having to have our bags searched and without having to pay “duty” according to those official’s whims. In the middle of all that, Ruth appeared. She had come home in time to meet us. She negotiated a reasonable fee for the tourism lady and her associates and all their trouble. In so doing, she was establishing important ongoing relationships at the airport. There was a scramble to get all our luggage loaded and to get out of there before officials got overly curious about all our bags. Finally we were back at Ruth’s marvelous home, greeted by Raphael and the house staff whom we were so happy to see again. After a fine, late dinner we were taken to our hotel. All four of us slept for 12 hours!
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