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.