So swearing-in went great, all 37 of us made it this far, wahoo! And my bubu was finished in time, although I did have to spend an hour with the tailor making last minute adjustments. Guess my French wasn't at intermediate high three weeks ago when I dropped it off. But in the end, it turned out great. My pidgin teacher came up to me before the ceremony and said, “You are killing it!” This was quite high praise from a man who is always impeccably dressed. The Cameroonian style hat I had made to go with the whole ensemble was the finishing touch. Oh yea, and of course I had a ridiculous mustache just to make it clear just how serious I was taking the whole thing. Later that evening we had a bonfire with all the newly sworn-in volunteers and some of our trainers joined in for the festivities. It was a great evening, and good to be able to say goodbye to everyone. The next morning we all woke up at dawn and prepared to head out. There was 11 of us going to the Northwest region so we all rode in one van together. It was sad knowing that we won’t see most of the others until in-service training, which will be in three months, so I guess relatively soon.
So goodbye Ebolowa and hello Bamenda. Many of us stayed a few nights in the volunteer common house. We all need to start buying things to furnish our new homes. The main items would be beds, tables, chairs, dressers, kitchen accessories, etc. So naturally I looked for none of this and spent all my time in market searching for a guitar. After a lot of walking, asking questions, and pantomiming playing a guitar, I finally found a man who told me he knew just the place. He immediately abandoned his shop so he could show me the way. We zig-zagged through the market for about another seven minutes, crossed a few streets and then found the shop he had spoken of. Almost instantly an electric guitar was placed in my hands. Drats! This was not what I was looking for. I was hoping to purchase an acoustic guitar and began wondering how I could explain what the difference was. I told the shop owner that I wanted, “ A not electric guitar.” She seemed confused initially, and then left the shop entirely. Perhaps it simply wasn't meant to be. I began thinking about buying the electric guitar. But then I’d need to buy an amp. And then I’d need to plug that in and hope the electricity was working. Yea, that didn't sound like a good option. And fortunately it was an option I would not need to pursue as the shop owner returned with an acoustic guitar. It was clearly not of the best quality but I was just looking for something I could play. However, it was yet to be determined if this would even function as a guitar. I began the long and arduous task of attempting to tune this guitar. As I began tightening strings I quickly began to doubt that this instrument would be able to serve as anything other than a glorified drum. As the wooden neck creaked under the tension of the strings I began to wonder if it would be the strings or the neck that would break first. Somewhat concerned about this I asked if there were any other guitars of better quality. The shop owner left once again while I continued to carefully tune the first guitar. By the time she returned I had the guitar I was working on somewhat tuned and now had some level of confidence in what was being sold to me. However, I noticed the newest guitar looked of reasonably improved quality. I began tuning this one and noticed that it was indeed much better. I asked for the price, “150 thousand.” “And for the first one?” “The same.” Indeed, I was going to need to employ some bargaining tactics for this one. In typical haggling fashion learned in Bali I told her I could pay 25 thousand and that was being generous. She laughed at that notion and began talking in French to another woman in the shop, telling her I was insane to think I could buy a guitar for that price. I began my rebuttal in French to make it clear that I had understood what she just said and began explaining that this was the worst guitar I had ever seen in my life as I pointed out that it had been made in China. This strikes a cord with Cameroonians, and I can understand why. After being here for only a few months it seems that anything manufactured in a Chinese factory that is not acceptable for standard distribution is sent to an African country such as Cameroon. Everything from markers to flip flops seem to barely last beyond the first use. I remember looking for basketball shoes my first week in Ebolowa and finding a few great looking pairs for very cheap. However, after trying them on I realized that the soles were simply made of hard plastic and would not be useful at all as shoes. So after noting the guitar’s Chinese origins the woman seemed much more willing to negotiate. I told her the most I could pay was 40 thousand but would need to run some other errands first and left. I stopped at the bank to finish opening my account which I had started earlier that day. I asked the man I was working at how much he thought a guitar should cost. He said he didn't know, but maybe around 35 thousand. So when I went back I told the shop owner I was ready to pay the 30 thousand we had agreed to. She told me we that was incorrect, we had agreed to 50 thousand. I see, so we were both playing the same game. We quickly came to terms at 40 thousand (a little over $80) and I was the proud owner of a brand new, terribly constructed guitar. Ahhhh, market life in Bamenda, I can’t wait to revisit you.
Not sure when my next post will be with my internet outlook being bleak. But for now, as always, cheers!
