Bamboo Bungalow

So with construction crews finally out, (for the most part), I began the task of moving in. I said my goodbyes to Kumbo and headed back to Enyoh, in a small two door car, with eight people packed into it. Fortunately the car was only going to Bamenda where I would then find another car going to Batibo. Without this intermission I think I would have lost circulation to every part of my body due to how tightly they pack everyone into cars here. During my brief stop in Bamenda I purchased a mattress, which the driver of the car heading to Batibo somehow shoved into the trunk along with everyone else's luggage. Of course it was not able to close at this point, but while living here you learn to just hope for the best while expecting the worst. So I expected that my mattress would likely end up on the side of the road along with everyone else's luggage. However when we got to Batibo everyone was pleasantly surprised to see that miraculously nothing had fallen out. I then found a bike that would take me up to Enyoh with my queen size mattress strapped on the back. Yes, it looks just as ridiculous as it sounds. It was also raining just to make the journey slightly more challenging. After everything was strapped in tight with bungee cords we were on our way.
Upon arriving to Enyoh in one piece my landlord gave me the tour of my new home and showed me that he had indeed acquired a bed frame for me along with a table and two chairs. After having my first nights sleep harassed by moths and other flying plagues I got to work early the next day. I purchased materials to make screens for all my windows, a broom, and essentially a large squeegee to wash my floors. Construction crews had been there just the day before and the mud they had tracked through the house was still everywhere. I began my mission to keep what's outside out! Within no time I had the tile floor in my parlor sparkling. Unfortunately the concrete floors in my bedroom, guestroom, and kitchen didn't glisten quite the same. I saved cleaning the bathroom for another day. Although it had been finished, it had to be redone due to leaking pipes so there would be a plumper working on it for the next few days, leaving muddy footprints in his wake. After the initial cleaning I was very hungry and realized I needed to get my kitchen set up. I walked into the room designated for food preparation. There was a floor, walls, a window, and a ceiling; I couldn't imagine anything better.
So my house was essentially a blank slate for me to do exactly what I wanted with. Many volunteers move into homes that previous volunteers have lived in. This makes the initial transition immensely easier and cheaper. However, in another life I fancy myself as an interior decorator so having the opportunity to make this home my own was something I embraced. At this point my bedroom has been completed. Most notably, the bamboo desk, and dresser are prized possessions of mine. Plastic flooring that looks like black and white tiles is definitely a step up from the constantly damp concrete floor. And with the majority of my clothes hanging freely on a wooden clothing rack the threat of mold growing on them, a result of the incredibly damp climate, is somewhat reduced. My parlor has come together very nicely as well. Coffee table and chairs made from bamboo in one corner and a wooden dining room table and chairs in the other. Now it may seem somewhat frivolous of me to be furnishing my home almost entirely of bamboo furniture. However, as it turns out, it's by far the cheapest option. After asking around one day at market I came across a man who was an expert in bamboo. So once a week I have been asking him to make one or two items for me. I have to say everything to a friend I met who runs a local shop at the weekly market who then translates my request into the local dialect. I am never sure if what I'm asking for has been understood, and everytime I pick up what has been made it is much different than what I was expecting. However, it always comes out great, so at this point I just give a general idea of what I want and leave the rest to the artistic vision of the bamboo artisan. And anything that ends up not being fit for the house will work perfect as patio furniture.
Now bringing all this from the market to my home is just as difficult as bringing the mattress was, if not more. The method of choice is me being sandwiched between whatever furniture I am transporting that day and the driver. The coffee table with chairs was quite a squeeze rivaled only by my last purchase, the dresser. During my last trip it started pouring rain on the ride back. We drove through two rivers that had flooded the road and we had to pull over halfway to let the rain somewhat subside. But at this point, my home has come quite a ways. The guest room might as well be a dungeon, but I don't anticipate having too many guests any time soon. After everything I've done to make this home my own it is good to know I'll be able to enjoy for the next two years.

Cloud City

Well  moving into my new home was certainly an interesting experience. My community host drove me from Bamenda to Enyoh and on the way let me know that my house had just been completed and that they had put in a bed, table, and a few chairs to help me begin the task of furnishing the place. We get there in the pouring rain and I finally see where I will be living for the next two years. It was a good thing I'd already been in Cameroon for a few months because at this point nothing surprises me. Whenever things went wrong during training we quickly reminded each other to never ask questions because there would never be a sensible answer. So when my host said the house was finished and ready to be moved into what he meant to say was that there were no doors, both the inside and outside needed to be painted, and the bathroom was mostly an idea at this point. Perfect! But all was well, my village is very close to Bessi Awum, where I had my site visit. I stayed with the volunteer there for a few days and then went to a village called Kumbo a few hours away to see some of my other friends. Kumbo turned out to be awesome and I plan on visiting again soon. So even though I had to wait over a week before moving into my home I was able to make the best of the situation and had a great time staying with friends of mine and seeing other villages.

But back to Enyoh. The village is very rural and is only accessible by car when the roads are in good condition, which is seldom. The main way to get to this village is by motorcycle taxi. This is the most common means of transportation in Cameroon and I had used it here and there during training in Ebolowa. However, in Ebolowa I used any other means of transportation first because riding on the back of a motorcycle in a busy city didn't seem like the most prudent thing to do. However, out here where an asphalt road is something only spoken of in myth and folklore I feel much more comfortable. The drivers know these dirt roads like the back of their hand and there are only ever a handful of vehicles along this route. So to get to my new home I negotiate a reasonable price with the moto drivers in Batibo. 500 francs for a 20 minute ride (1$), sounds reasonable enough. We bump along the dirt road which has been heavily eroded by daily rainfall. We cross over two large streams and go up and down a few very steep hills. Then we cross into Enyoh. We begin to climb higher and higher. Suddenly everything we have just traversed over is in plain sight. Batibo is now just a mere speck out in the distance. We cruise along this ridge and it is reminiscent of my commute in San Diego along La Jolla Scenic Drive. We climb over the final peak, where a small catholic church is located. We then descend slightly into a village square and just after this I arrive at my home. It's strange to think that I will know this home better than any other I have had since leaving my parents home for college. The longest I have lived in one place since then has been eleven months. So the thought of being settled in one place for two years is something very new to me, and something puts me at ease.

I spent my first few days in Enyoh walking around, eating food prepared by women who sold it at their doorsteps, and having a few drinks with the locals. The first bar I went to was interesting to say the least. It was a cold cloudy day. Much colder than I ever thought possible for Africa. Was I even close to the equator? However, the Northwest region has a climate very different from what one would expect for Cameroon. I ordered "export" the local brew also called "33" or "trente trois." Most of the people here were drinking palm wine. This is very common in the villages of Cameroon. The locals go into the bush and tap wine from palm trees that naturally ferments during the day. It is very inexpensive and is commonly referred to as "white stuff", aptly named for its color. People quickly began asking me the usual questions of who I was, what I was doing here, and if I would marry their daughter. I explained that I was from the US, that I would be a teacher at they local government high school, and that of course, I would marry all there daughters. Polygamy is a wonderful thing! Our conversation carried on for some time with much welcoming of me to the village and many other seemingly odd questions, but ones that I was very accustomed to by this point. As it became colder I began to see clouds rolling in through the windows straight into the small, one room, mud brick bar. Everything and everyone were quickly covered in a white mist. There is no way a picture could've captured this moment. I simply say back, listened to people speaking pidgin along with the local dialect, and did my best to take it all in. Like many places I have been in Cameroon, there often seems to be a lack of distinction between the natural world and that built by humans. The way these clouds rolled into this bar could not have exemplified this point any better. The people here live directly in and with their surroundings. It is truly a beautiful thing to observe. As I got up and began walking home it was not exactly clear when I had left the premises of the bar. Being engulfed by a cloud made it impossible to be aware of anything other than your immediate surroundings. I have never been to Scotland, but I imagine walking through the highland is something like this. It is an eerie feeling, to be so high up and to be able to see so much around you on a clear day, but then to have your entire line of sight obscured at a moments notice. The dry season will come soon and I will have a 360 degree view as far as the eye can see. But I know when it comes a part of me will be anxious for the rainy season to return. During these moments worries and cares disappear, shrouded by clouds, and the only thing left to focus on is the small reality around you which has not yet been covered by the overwhelming haze.