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Yes, Julius and Shella DID get married, on December 12. And everything went very well, and Julius really enjoyed the day, despite all the anxieties associated with the planning and especially the financing of the celebration.
The bride was to come to my house to be dressed, since her own home is several miles up the road. It was my last Saturday in Mbingo, so I wanted to follow the pattern that had become quite established – of Fervent and Godlove arriving to help make, and then eat, pancakes, and then help me make more pancakes and coffee for Pa Gideon when he arrived for work. The boys, after eating their pancakes, got very busy sweeping the veranda and the walk and stairs, so everything would be lovely for the bride. And Gideon had done a lot of work on Wednesday, cutting the grass (with his cutlass), and trimming the flowers and the lantana hedge, so the compound made a lovely setting for photos. The children and I decided to put a sign on the front door – “Today is a wonderful day” – with balloons attached. Godlove liked the sign so much that he did not let me take it down for several days after!
The bride and groom arrived – but the dress had not - it had barely left Bamenda. In fact it did not arrive until an hour before she was to be at the church. Meanwhile, the borrowed car was being decorated in front of the house, and many, many people, all unknown to me, were arriving in my house. I was glad I was already dressed in my wedding clothes! Finally about 10:45am , the bride came out and a few photos were hurriedly taken – and she was whisked off for the church. But the attendants and some friends were still only half ready – I got quite brutal about pushing them out the door, so we could start the 10 minute walk to the church, and not be toooo late!
The bride entered the church in fact 45 minutes late, which is pretty normal. At 11:15 when I finally got to the church, there were people outside, but nobody inside at all. But finally we all filed in, and the proceedings began. Cameroonian weddings that I’ve attended have never been short – there is lots of singing, a sermon of at least ½ hour, various greetings, and at last the actual marriage itself. Then the part that we would consider the “reception program” is held right in the church – signing the register, messages from the family representatives, and cutting the cake. Finally there is the delightful singing – dancing celebration of gift giving, in which all the guests dance up to the front to embrace the bride and groom and leave their gift. It is just SO much fun, and it was a special treat for me that I actually got to dance at Julius's wedding. Finally the service is over – and then there are the many photos to be taken outside – and then the food. The eating hall was filled by the time I got there, so I just greeted people, and thought it best to head for home. Godlove and Treasure’s parents had gone to Bamenda, to attend another staff wedding at which they were singing in the MBH choir; so the children ended up coming to the wedding with me. Treasure had already had a nap with her head in my lap – but they were truly ready to go home too. But it HAD been a wonderful day.
For our class, there had been, as Grace put it, “many successes”. Stephen and Goodness had their lovely little son, who is doing just fine. Julius finally got to marry his Shella. And Christian and Evert who are working for these months of their internship up at Banso, were able to come down for the day, so we were all together one more time. On Saturday evening, they came to my house for a great visit – they are doing very well with their anaesthesia, and it was just wonderful to see them and visit with them one more time. I felt like a mother who is able to have all her children home for Christmas.
The 13 days between the end of the PACU class, and my departure from Mbingo, were packed full. The house of course had to be all packed up, and many personal items given away to appropriate people. But I used some of the time for visits I’d not had time for before – with a few close friends, like Stephen and Goodness and baby Percy – and Comfort who has been so ill with recent kidney failure – and with our pastor – and with Swiss friends who recently came to work at Mbingo. I spent a few hours at the primary school, talking to the children and taking photos and video of their assembly and of them in their classrooms.
I managed a few early morning treks up the hills to see the sun rise from my favourite viewpoints – and longed to be able to hike more. We presented the PACU nurses with their official diplomas in chapel one morning. And many people came through my house, especially the children. One day Madam from Coffee arrived with Fatimatu, Salamatu’s older sister, who was very ill with fever and back pain, but had managed to walk the couple of miles down from Coffee. She went to see the doctor, and was given medicine for malaria, but it was still early in the afternoon, with a very hot sun, so she asked to sleep at my place. I put her on my bed, while Madam, after going to the market, came and lay down on the sofa. Meantime, various people came in and out, and I kept on trying to pack. Life in the African village. One afternoon, Salamatu came from school early and spent most of the afternoon with me as I packed. She is 10 and quite helpful, and it was good time together. "Auntie, I don't want you to go!" Philemon said the same thing, although my departure was greatly cushioned by the fact that his Mom arrived home from nursing school for her 2 week Christmas break. When I asked Fervent what he would do when I left, he said "We'll cry!" but then added "and we'll break down your door and take all your cho-co-late cake!" Richard came for the last time to cook, so the last cho-co-late cake had been made and eaten, I'm afraid!
The last few days before departure are stressful. On Sunday, I had to “greet” – or say my goodbyes – to Mbingo church where I’ve attended the whole time I was in Cameroon. On Wednesday, I got fufu for the OR gang, and went to eat with them. The ladies in the group took me and dressed me up in a beautiful embroidered outfit, the classical clothes of NW Region. I didn’t prepare any talk for the OR men – they have been like brothers, and I knew I could not say anything without bursting into tears – and in the end, I did not go to say goodbye – and they did not come to say goodbye to me either. We always use the Kom expression for “see you tomorrow” and I told them that that was all we were going to say.
Wednesday night I was invited to Mama Godlove’s house (Lillian and Joshua's) for supper – a lovely meal of rice and fufu and njamma njamma and chicken and fish. They had had a big wide African gown made for me – of the same fabric as Goddie’s shirt, and Treasure’s dress. They have been such dear friends, as were all the neighbours in Middle Quarter.
On Thursday, I had to say goodbye to the entire staff in the morning chapel service, and later in the morning, the administration put on a little program for me, when once again, I was dressed up in another beautiful outfit, and various people said kind things, and I had to speak again – and then we all ate – rice, and puff puffs, and fish and eggs. The rest of the day was full of people. After school, I had I think 12 children come into the house, all wanting to draw. I sent some of the younger Middle Quarter ones home for a nap, to come later. My 2 verandas have many marks from indelible marking pens – but I guess it is a sign of a house where children had a good time! And then adults came, and sat and talked, and when those left, others came, and so it went until 10pm when I finally fell into bed.
Those were the events – but there were the in-between moments too of savouring some of the familiar things – the sound of the birds and the crickets in early morning and evening – the glorious sunsets and sunrises of dry season (when the dust makes the whole sky turn pink) – the Southern Cross hanging in the south, the upside-down Big Dipper to the north over Mbingo Hill, and Orion making his arc straight up in the sky – the wonderful view of the hills from my house, and on the farthest hill, the one big tree that always caught the eye – people moving up and down the highway carrying their loads on their heads. – the feel of the air, that never gets too cold, and is always humid, even in dry season.
Friday morning I left by car for Douala – and 48 hours later, I arrived ihere. It is like I have changed planets. I have a home in Mbingo, and one here – each one seems completely normal to me – but surely they do not both exist on the same earth…….
The PACU course is completed, with an exam on Friday, and the essential fufu and njamma njamma in OR. It was not the ultimate in classes – my being sick for most of it did nothing to make it dynamic, and probably another go at it would get the material refined and better explained for nurses without a lot of science background. But for now, we are done, the gang start work on their own tomorrow in recovery room and with the sick patients on the ward – and I am free to hike, visit, clean out my house, and do whatever other things must be done before I leave Mbingo. It all seems a bit unreal, but maybe with a few days to unwind, things will come more into focus.
Yesterday I asked Fervent what they would do when I was not here (he was on his 2nd visit of the day for cake), and he said they would break into my house and take all my cho-co-late cake. I guess they think Pa Richard (who cooks for me) will just keep coming to supply their substantial requirements for chocolate cake and lemon bread – and maybe pancakes as well. The last couple of Saturdays, the boys have arrived very early (yesterday was late, at 6:35!!) and have “helped” me make pancakes which they devour with great enthusiasm. Pa Gideon arrives for work in the garden about 7:15, and especially now that the mornings are cold until the sun gets over Mbingo hill, I make him coffee, so he also had pancakes. Sometimes I feel like Christine’s snack bar, but it is also fun. The kids will have a bit of an adjustment though when I do leave. Godlove has found out how to phone me (we have phones that are just an intercom system around the hospital compound), and does so almost every evening. Tonight I was telling him I did not need to go to work in the morning and he could not understand why. “I’m finished work” I told him, “and I have to get ready to go to Canada”. “Aaaaashhhhhhh” was all I heard at the other end of the line. I guess that is roughly interpreted as “how can you possibly do this to me auntie…..”
Stephen (my anesthesia student) and his wife Goodness had their first child on Nov 26, so I went to visit them yesterday. Percy was only 2400gm but has a large appetite for a small boy and is growing fast – he had changed quite a bit from when I saw him in hospital. We had a lovely visit, and in true African fashion, I was treated with great hospitality in the tiny apartment which was the only place they could find to live.
This afternoon, a young Swiss couple who have come for a year took me along with them to hike, back in the Fulani valley behind Fungeh knob. It is truly dry season, so with the sun high, it feels very hot. The hike takes almost 3 hours but with good company, the kilometers flew by. I had not been back there since May, because of the rains, and it was great to see that area again. It is very therapeutic to get away from the hospital compound and back into the hills – it is one of the greatest advantages of living at Mbingo and one I will really miss.
Next Saturday, my last one here, is Julius’s wedding to Shella. The bride and her friends will come to my house to dress, so I will be in the thick of things and am very much looking forward to it. Gideon is going to do big work on my compound on Wednesday, so the grass and bushes and flowers are all just perfect for the wedding photo background….. You’ll see it next week!
Today was a great day! My Fulani friends up at Coffee have been inviting me for a long time to visit their compound – especially 10 year old Salamatu who is my main contact with the family. Yesterday and today were the Muslim “Feast of the Ram” so a time of celebration, and a few weeks ago, Salamatu began to suggest this would be the time to visit. My plan was to go up early this morning, just stay long enough to greet, and come home before noon and the hottest part of the day. I did go early to market, and left here at 8:15am. Thankfully, for the past 2 weeks, the shingles has finally subsided – my face still hurts, but the terrible malaise and fatigue have mostly passed – and I guess today was a test of that. It takes me about an hour to get to Coffee – the first ½ hour is quite a stiff climb up to the escarpment above Mbingo. At Coffee I found much preparation – everyone but Madam, Salamatu’s stepmother, was heading to “Big Compound” for the feast. Did I want to accompany them? It was only a short distance…..
So off we went, the women and children (the men had already gone on their horses…). The Fulani women are very attractive, and quite elegant for any occasion. There they all were, in their best attire, and fancy flip-flop type sandals, several carrying food or small children, just moving right along over the rough path going back to Back Valley – and me slogging along, wearing my tough-looking sports sandals, carrying just a light pack, but still having to really work to keep up. In fact we went another hour, but it was worth it. I have been over that path, which leads to Back Valley, several times now, but had not expected to get back there again before leaving. It is just beautiful country, and it was a treat to see it again.
“Big Compound” is just that – big, with many buildings, a huge fenced garden, and many horses and goats and cows all around. It was the childhood home of the man who lives at Coffee, and is now inhabited by his brother. The father is dead, but Big Mommy still lives there. Since almost all the Fulani men have several wives, it was beyond me what women and what children belonged to whom or where – but certainly there were many people around, most of whom I was taken to greet. They are extremely hospitable, in good African fashion, and I was treated very kindly. Their houses are probably mud brick, but plastered with cement, and are lovely and cool. Most have linoleum on the floor of the one large main room that contains several beds which are used for seating. The ceiling is cane slates, with calabashes and other odds and ends hanging. Clothes are hung up on the walls – as well as many pictures, calendars, and what-nots including political posters. Every house had a large set of shelves holding many metal pots and dishes. Everyone was dressed very well, including the children who were all happy, healthy-looking little folks. I had worn my long African skirt and top, and taken along the “wrapper” which is a length of the same cloth, 2 meters long, that is often wrapped as a 2nd skirt over the first. The Fulani women though often use it as a shawl, often over the head – and I was very grateful that I could do the same thing, and look like them. As well, the wrapper over the head and arms works really well as a protector from the sun, and kept me from any burning, despite being out so long in the heat of the day.
The goats had already been killed (thank goodness) and the women were cutting up the meat. Some must have already been in the pot, because before long I was brought rice and meat which was very tasty – and Fulani tea which is mostly milk, with a touch of tea in it, and sugar. After the trek, I was thirsty and hungry, and it all tasted great and renewed my strength for the walk back! Salamatu and I were able to get away after many goodbye greetings, and made good time back to Coffee. Madam’s goat had run away that morning – realizing its peril – but by the time we returned, the poor goat had not only been recaught, but dispatched and cooked – and fufu was being stirred in the pot in the cookhouse, and njamma njamma was ready – so I ate again. Plus more Fulani tea. It was all very good. And so I headed home about 2pm – carrying gifts of meat from both compounds. A wonderful day!
The other event of the last 3 weeks was the arrival of the grasshoppers! I guess they really are locusts – big green slow-moving creatures that hatch out in the bush and are attracted to light – so Bamenda I guess just swarms with them – and so did the hospital compound with its abundance of light. There is a yardlight just down from my house which was a big gathering spot – for grasshoppers, but also for kids – of all ages. The locusts blew in on Monday of last week – and that night, there was yelling and chasing about for the entire night. Tuesday the hospital got wiser and turned off a lot of lights fairly early – as they did Wednesday and Thursday too. It reduced the activity a bit, but the noise and yelling still went on until midnight each night. There was quite a bit of damage to plants too, as people with eyes only on a grasshopper ran anywhere at all. On Tuesday, I was walking home and could see several kids with bamboo poles about 8 feet long, beating on my house walls and zinc roofing. I suppose they were trying to knock down a few grasshoppers – but I was VERY upset and did manage to grab one child who was too engrossed to see me coming – and I’m sure she thought I was going to kill her before she escaped. After that, nobody else tried beating the house! The grasshoppers are fried in peanut oil and are said to be absolutely delicious – I passed – but I did get some great video of Gideon and Goddie and Treasure downing them, complete with the satisfying crunch as they are chewed! Sometimes the season lasts a couple of weeks – this year it was short and intense I guess.
Workwise, we just have one more week of the class – just review, and a final test on Friday. I’m ready to be finished – but despite my lack of energy and enthusiasm due to being sick most of the course, I do think it was something well worth doing. The five nurses seem quite excited by the things they have learned – they now understand a lot more about why they do certain things, and are finding other nurses on the ward are happy to learn from them. And without them working in recovery room, the workdays in the OR would just never get finished
And I just have 3 weeks left – actually a little less. There is a lot to do – and a lot of people to say goodbye to. I look forward to seeing family and friends and my other home again, but it is also hard to believe I will not be seeing Mbingo and my friends here any more, especially the children…. This morning, like most Saturday mornings, Goddie and Fervent were here by 6:30. They came in and “helped” me make pancakes, and then devoured their own, complete with syrup. There are not likely to be small voices calling “Auntie, auntie” at the window in my other home! Especially at 6:30am.
Today I was cleaning out my kitchen cupboards, to see what I need to use up in the remaining 6 weeks at Mbingo, when Fervent arrived at the door. I told him to scoot, because I was busy with work, getting ready for going to Canada. About half an hour later, Godlove came tearing across the compound, shouting “Auntie, auntie, Fervent says we’re going to Canada – when does the plane arrive?” I guess they were expecting it on the airstrip any moment, and Goddie was already packing up for the journey. This was one of many visits from children today. The first was from Goddie who at 6am, just as I opened my eyes, began to shout “Auntie, auntie” at my window. Who is going to do that in Canada? Maybe I should take them with me.
The last 5 weeks have been a sort of nightmarish, never-ending story of shingles. Life has consisted of pushing myself through class each morning, staying in recovery room with the students as long as I can manage (trying for noon at least), and a great deal of sleep. Today I did have a bit more energy and actually got a few things done. There’s a vaccine against shingles – for any of you of my vintage, I can’t recommend it too highly!!! It would be WELL worth getting.
The students are doing pretty well, despite the lack of attention from their teacher. They do well in recovery room and are a huge help to the anaesthetists who really could not get through the day’s work without the speeding up that recovery brings. As well, most patients are going back to the wards stable, and with good pain control, so this course has been well worthwhile.
Rains are becoming less, in both frequency and in amount. I had forgotten, but as dry season comes, the haze over the hills increases – to my disappointment. The lovely clear views of the hills that we quite often had during rainy season are no more. Last rain should be about November 15. Already the sun is very hot at midday – but the evenings and mornings are cool. The locals are complaining of cold, and wearing jackets and sweaters more.
Two weekends ago, I went with Dorcas to her farm, where she had allowed me to help her plant the corn. That was 2 months earlier - and now the corn is well above our heads. Her farm is on a very steep slope, but the soil must be fertile as both the corn and the beans planted amongst it look very good. She is happy.
Today I had the energy to visit Bruno, a longtime hospital employee who among other jobs, prepares the coffee. He has been around the whole compound, picking the coffee beans off the bushes that grow here and there. Down at the hospital farm buildings, he has a large concrete pad where the coffee is drying in the sun. Then it has to be shelled, roasted, and ground – all of which I saw this morning. Then it is carried across the highway to the provision store – where I was able to buy another ½ kg this morning. I love the Cameroonian coffee and will miss it.
Sonel, the national electrical company, did not supply NW Region for over 3 weeks, because a new transformer was being installed. For my students, all of whom live “in the bush” – i.e. off the hospital compound – this was a real frustration because there was no light for them to read in the evenings. During last week Sonel began to function again, but in its usual erratic way. For 3 nights this week, there was not enough power reaching my house to fire up the fluorescent bulbs. They would either do nothing at all, or flicker endlessly in a manner that made me feel like I was about to have a seizure. It was probably good that I felt so sickly, as about the only thing to do was go to bed – my eyes are long past the age when they can read by candlelight . Last night, thankfully, after a weak start, the lights did come on – and tonight seems to be ok too. Running the 2 generators here for over 3 weeks will have cost the hospital a huge amount, as well as being so much work for the electrical techs – but it was sure nice for us living here to have such consistently good electricity.
Have been off work for the past week, which has been largely a blur of sleep and getting up to take large anti-viral pills every four hours. From Oct 5 on, I did not feel good and had an odd headache – unusual I realized because it was only on the left side of my head. On Saturday, I began to break out with the rash of shingles on my forehead, and from Sunday until really yesterday, Thursday, I have felt quite miserable. Tonight though seems a bit closer to normal, so I hope the progress continues. Thank goodness for the antiviral being readily available here (because of all the AIDS patients, I’m sure) and that I realized early what I had and got on the drug – the rash subsided without ever blistering, and my eye was never troubled. But with sleeping 18 hours a day, I did not accomplish a whole lot.
There are signs that dry season is coming – more wind, and we have gone a couple of days in a row without rain during this past week. The week before, it poured buckets every single day, and we only saw the sun parts of two days. My garden looks good – great cabbages coming along – and I am eating my own beans now. It’s great.
One of the previously trained nurse anaesthetists from here is now in medical school in Ghana – Ernest. Ernest had been reading this blog, unknown to me, and saw the photo of three of my current students, and realized they were his good friends. So he phoned Faith, from Ghana, to greet them all (he and Faith had been ward auxiliaries here together a number of years back). I thought it was such a neat story. Greetings, Ernest, when you read this! And know that you are held in very high esteem back home here in Mbingo.
The OR has been extremely busy – complex cases, long hours. My anaesthesia students / interns are really struggling with the amount of labour being demanded of them, and I can understand. The OR would not run without them though. The number of surgical residents continues to increase every year, without a parallel increase in OR staff, or ward staff – and it does not work very well.
The recovery area though is helping a lot. Patients are moved out of OR a lot faster, and then are properly recovered, and given pain medication adequately, so they go to the ward usually quite comfortable. I am very happy with my RR students, but also with the general team attitude between them and the anaesthetists. I cannot say enough good things about these people – they are team players, cooperative, collegial, with real commitment to good patient care. It is such a pleasure to work with them. I forget how the saying goes, but it essentially that in any business, what matters is “who gets on the bus” – and we definitely are blessed with the right people on the anaesthesia / recovery room bus at MBH.
A week ago, last Friday, we had a very heavy day. Sometime well after 2pm (the official end of shift), I sent my RR students home, and stayed to recover a little boy who had had a big abdominal surgery. He took forever to waken, so while I was sitting there, David who was on call for the night wheeled a small howling boy in for me to “babysit”. It turned out I knew this little fellow, Bryan, from recovering him a few days before, after surgery for severe Hirshsprung’s disease (absence of nerves in the colon which therefore does not function properly). Now he was having obstruction again, and was hot and very sick – and very unhappy to be taken from his mother. I remembered him from the first time for his beautiful smile – and indeed, once I got him comforted, and more comfortable with a little morphine, the smile returned. Then he began to take quite an interest in the other little boy. Bryan is 6, the other child, Bolshi was 8. Unfortunately Bryan is francophone only – and I Anglophone only – so our communication was charades, but it was a pity because he obviously a very bright observant little boy who was making many comments about things. He was fascinated by the NG tube that was draining Bolshi’s stomach – and not frightened as you might expect. And then he reached out to touch Bolshi. I pushed their stretchers together, and Bryan reached over and took Bolshi’s hand to greet him, as any good Cameroonian should do. It was incredibly sweet to watch. In a bit, Bolshi did finally surface, and was able to realize that another child was there, greeting him, and to respond, before I sent him to the ward. The next day when I went to see how Bryan had fared with his surgery, he gave me his beautiful smile, and pointed a few beds down the ward to where Bolshi was. I now have not seen them all this past week, but think I will feel good enough to go over tomorrow. I just hope they have both done well.
Goddie’s little brother did arrive – his name is Rooney and he is just a beautiful baby. I am so thankful he arrived while I was still here, so I have been able to see the newest small Middle Quarter neighbour.
Time is flying, and I am way behind with news from here. We are already at the end of week 3 of the PACU nurse course – ¼ of the way through. My 5 students are experienced nurses, even though a couple of them have had only 3 months of formal nursing training. They are hard-workers (one of the main criteria for choosing them), and committed to their job, and they are a pleasure to teach. I find I’m having to translate all the physiology into very practical terms, rather than present it academically – but that is not a bad exercise for me either, and really rather fun, especially when I see comprehension come across their faces as they realize the “why” of something they have been doing for years. Interestingly though, they are being given a very bad time by other nurses on the ward, who are jealous because this group are being given more training. I am inclined to go and tell the persecutors that their behaviour is precisely the reason they were not chosen for the training! But so far I am just teaching the class for an hour each morning, and then taking either 2 or 3 of them at a time into OR to work in the recovery area, while the others go to work on surgery ward.
The nursing supervisor has been very helpful in already ordering work to start on a few renovations to an area of 4 beds on surgery ward which will become our “high dependency unit” for the sickest pre- and post-op patients. I hope I get to see it functioning before I leave, but if not, at least it will be underway, and the anaesthetists can take over its supervision.
The beginning of week 2, we had a graphic example of why a recovery area is needed. A woman who had had a hysterectomy, done as usual under spinal anaesthesia, dropped her blood pressure about 15 minutes after coming to us in recovery area. Her spinal was still very high, so at first I assumed that was the cause, but when she did not respond to the usual treatments, I called the surgical resident. Fortunately he is our best, and listens, and with a little prodding from me and from the head anaesthetist, he took the patient back into OR and found 2000ml blood in her abdomen, from an artery that had come unsutured. In the four weeks between the end of the anaesthesia course, and the beginning of the PACU course, there was no functioning recovery room because of inadequate anaesthesia staff; this woman would have been sent directly from OR to the ward, and almost surely would have died, because nobody on the ward would have recognized her distress until she was almost dead. It certainly impressed my students that their role was critical (I was impressed too). We have also had 2 young children die in the past month during the night after their surgery – why, nobody knows, only that they were “found dead”. Clearly the HDU is also badly needed, with better staffing and more knowledge and more monitoring, to prevent these needless deaths.
There has been an influenza epidemic here at Mbingo the last few weeks. I was flattened last week for a few days, which I guess is one reason there has been no blog. Several of my friends had been sick, and all said they had malaria, and had taken the appropriate treatment. When I began to have chills and the aches, I wondered if I was going to have my first dose of malaria after 4 years in Africa – but soon realized that the respiratory symptoms were a true influenza. Some of the surgeons were talking about this, and said that in fact flu feels for all the world like malaria, with which of course every African is only too familiar – the headache, joint pains, fever and chills, GI upset, general malaise – they call malaria the great imitator. The drugs to treat it are apparently diabolical too – usually people say the treatment is even worse than the disease. How bizarre it is, that billions have been spent on HIV in Africa, and hardly anything on malaria, which is the biggest killer of any disease worldwide.
There was a wedding in church 2 Sundays ago. The bridal party came in at the beginning of the service, then the church service carried on as usual, but with an interlude in the middle for the saying of the vows. At the end there were the usual wedding things – speeches, presentation of the cake with all its symbolic colours (green for growth, purple for nobility, gold for eternity, white for purity, etc) and the shared “first chop” as the couple fed cake to each other, and finally the celebratory gift-giving as everyone sang and danced in a long line to the front of the church. And then of course there was FOOD. Weddings here are really fun, a truly joyous time in what is otherwise a pretty humdrum life.
School is finally starting to settle in, I think. My vegetable lady has still been in Mbingo market, but said she was starting work at her school this week. A few kids are coming to me with school work. Felix is a boy in class 6, the son of a single mom who I suspect cannot read herself – he needs lots of help with reading, way more than I have time, or skill, for. Salamatu, my little Fulani friend, is also in desperate need of reading help – she really has hardly a sniff even about sounds of the letters and she is already in class 4. Much of this is because she speaks no English at home and receives no help. And Norrin and Becky who live behind me in Middle Quarter started coming this week for help with English; they are in form 1 (like grade 7 at home), and actually seem to be doing well. They are attending the government secondary school that is 2 km from here, and it is interesting hearing how things are done there. I helped them last May with spelling and English and they seem to have made progress since then and seem much more grown up, even though they are only 11. They were laughing at my accent – they have been taught with a good British accent, and even when I try to use a Cameroonian accent, they think I sound really funny – which I do. They are fun to be with – the other kids are hard work!
Stephen’s wife who attended teacher training school last year did not get a job at Mbingo 1 as she had hoped. So yesterday she went down the road to the small government school in Muguh, and was given the 14 students in class 3 and the 14 in class 4 – for which she will be paid 15,000cfa (about $35) a month!! She is happy though, as this helps her keep up her newly learned skills, and will give her an in at getting a government job next year.
Goddie has developed a fixed idea that he wants to be a whiteman. He and Fervant and I skyped Auntie Jan on Saturday, and his greeting to her was “Auntie Jan, I want to be a whiteman so I can come to Canada and help you!” We are trying hard to convince him that we like him very much just as he is and that he most definitely does not need to become a white man to come to Canada – but so far, we don’t seem to be convincing him. His new baby brother or sister is due to arrive any day now, so maybe that will distract him from the whiteman idea!
School began this week – and suddenly the neighbourhood was a lot quieter, just like everywhere in the world. I spent all week working seriously on the next class – for recovery room / high dependency area nurses – which is starting tomorrow morning.
Monday morning last week was about as dismal as it could be – just pouring rain. I felt so sorry for the kids, walking miles in some cases to get to school. It was altogether a very wet week – no sun at all until Saturday. On Friday afternoon, we had almost 5 cm of rain in just over an hour. It was just as the kids were heading home from school, so 5 took shelter on my veranda, where I planned to leave them…..but then the wind started and the rain began to travel horizontally – so in they all came, along with one adult who was also stranded on my veranda. After a while, two more small heads appeared at the window – two drenched small boys also came in. They were all kids I know well – so I got out the “twister” game and it turned out to be quite a hit, and filled in the hour until the rain was gentle enough that I felt not too mean in throwing them out to make their way home. That evening, about suppertime, the rain hit again, this time with even worse wind. Rain on the zinc roof makes a horrendous noise, and with the wind too, it sounded like the storm was going to come right through the roof. By morning the total in the rain gauge was 11 cm!! Thank goodness this soil seems incapable of being saturated with water – or we would all drown. September is the month of really heavy rains storms – less total rainfall than July or August (when we get about 30 inches a month), but it comes in bigger cloudbursts – so it is the month of landslides. I can believe it after Friday night.
The way the school system functions here is quite something for a westerner. Last Saturday in market, my vegetable lady Esther was still waiting to hear if she had obtained a government teaching job (she trained 3 or 4 years ago, and has been applying ever since for a job). This Saturday, Esther was not in market – another woman had her stall (and less nice vegetables, alas!) – and she tells me that Esther was assigned to a school, far away. You can only imagine how prepared those teachers are to start teaching! The government way of doing things has a major effect on a privately run school like Mbingo 1 as well. Many teachers seem to apply for the government jobs, because of better pay (although reliability of payment is rather questionable). We have 9 teachers here, and this year, 5 of them got government postings – this news came on Tuesday, the day after classes began. I met the headmaster that day, and he was very disturbed, and said his head was just hurting, trying to plan what to do for all the youngsters who were already coming. But today I saw him, and they have other applications, and he thinks they will be able to have a good group of teachers in place shortly. He himself had written the government entrance exam for nursing assistant training (even in government schools, teachers are paid badly compared to nurses), and he passed. But he also had his name in for a government teaching job, and he got that too. The nursing training costs almost $1000 Canadian for the year – an astronomical sum for anyone here – so he has decided to go with the government teaching job. And thankfully, it looks like he will be assigned to Fungeh school, which is just a 20 minute walk from Mbingo, so he will be living here and can advise the teachers at Mbingo 1 school, and, he said, maybe even help with some afternoon classes for the final year (grade 6) students. Sounds about as good a situation as we could have hoped for. But still – what a difference from home, where my teaching friends have been setting up their classrooms and making teaching plans for the past month!
Yesterday my Fulani friends appeared. I had arranged for Salamatu to come to Mbingo 1 school this year, and wondered where she was. It is Ramadan though, so that may be a factor - but she and her small brother Osmanu are going to be starting in class tomorrow. They stayed here while their mother went to market - we played the Memory game, and considering Osmanu knows very little English, they did pretty well. Kids here have no games of the sort we have - so it takes them a while to catch on - but once they do, they LOVE to play, and it is lots of fun to get them going and then watch them. Some of the older kids want help with school work now. There are not enough hours in the day - or energy in the body, alas!
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