Christmas at Mbingo
Christmas in Mbingo – here are the pictures to tell about it. On Christmas Eve, as we were driving back the few kilometers from the Bango church about 6pm, the harmattan dust was very thick over the hills. And Christmas morning, the wind blew hard, and the dust grew even thicker. A very typical dry season day for West Africa. The valley below us just disappeared, and even the escarpment which is only a kilometer or so away was very hazy. The stars were dim through the dust for a couple of nights. But last night there was wind again, and this time the dust cleared a bit – and today was much clearer – unlike farther north (like in Niger) where the thick haze lasted for days on end, like thick fog. Daytime temperature now is perhaps 25 degrees – nights about 15.
Six of us had dinner on the 25th at my neighbours – a potluck feast. In the evening, all the expats – 23 of us, which includes kids home from school (in Yaounde, and a couple in US), and a family of 4 from Congo, vacationing in the guest house here – got together for dessert and visiting and carol singing.
On Boxing Day, I went on a little trek back over the hills to try to find the compounds of some Fulani people who come intermittently to the hospital for care – and after about 90 minutes of walking, I fortuitously came upon the compound of the little girl I knew best. There were four generations living there – the child I know (Mamatsu), who has sickle cell anemia and the osteomyelitis that so often accompanies that – her mother Fatimatsu (the father is working elsewhere) and her siblings, Issa who is father to Fatimatsu, and Issa’s mother, Big Mommie – who in fact is very little, and old, with only one eye. As well, there is Issa’s wife, and also his younger sister. Plus lots of kids – and where they fit in, I didn’t figure out. They were very welcoming, and I sat for a while and tried to talk in pidgen. Big Mommie only talked in Fulfulde, the Fulani language. In the end I think she was asking for money, but it is nice sometimes to not really know (or try too hard to know) what is being said! They sent me off with 4 eggs from the hut that housed the chickens – and I made my way back through the stream, past their cattle, and back down through the more familiar neighbourhood of Mbingo 2 on my way home. A good adventure; it is nice to have a break from school and to have time for this sort of thing.
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