Home Photos

The front side of my house. The building to the left is an apartment my family rents out.

Iness, Sabrina, friend, Christiana running up the road near our house.

My Doctorate

If I wrote a story about a single different thing that happened to me every day here, I would have a doctorate thesis waiting for me at the end of my stay.

I could write about peoples’ mannerisms; the way people cluck their tongues at something unbelievable, their exclamation of “ah-ka” for the same reason, or how people push out their lips as they talk to point at the object they are discussing.

I could write about music; how no one is ashamed to sing aloud even when they can’t hit a note, the fact that everyone in my family listens to the American music on my ipod while belting out nonexistent words to the tune of the song, or the 7:30 AM start of school with the students singing.

I could write about the dust and dirt; despite the daily rain everything is covered in a red film by the end of the day, the roads that have become obstacle courses, or that no matter who you are it is impossible to stay clean.

I could write about the educational system; how hard it is to come up with effective ways to teach when both the teacher and the student do not have adequate supplies, the method of speaking and having students finish the word as recognition of their comprehension, my consternation at the teachers’ negative reaction when I forbade corporal punishment at any level, or the reality that teaching is considered a “last resort” profession.

I could write about the importance of having a diverse network of friends; the fact that you will be crushed if you can’t find a government official to help you, or the brotherhood that somehow will arise between good people despite the squeezing hand of those in power.

I could write about the Cameroonian image of foreigners; the sad truth that Cameroonians give white people far greater privileges than their Cameroonian compatriots, how Americans are still considered the highest on the ladder of success and respect, or the universal money sign and single status that is printed on our skin.

I could write about the multitudes of ethnicities and sub-ethnicities; in any number of places people can immediately identify others of the same background, how anyone belonging to the same ethnicity is considered brother, sister, mother, father, or that even though there is no reigning majority a hierarchy has arisen between groups allowing for prejudices to fester.

I could write about the food; Cameroonian ability to prepare a few key ingredients like plantains and cassava in such diverse ways that meals rarely feel repetitive, the grilled fish you can buy on the side of the street for $1.00, the fresh fruit found in my backyard that has amazing natural flavor, the natural remedies my maman has for all number of ails and diseases, the avocado sandwiches I eat on weekend mornings, or the 5¢ bananas.

All of these would make great chapters. My reality incorporates these segments into my life every day. What is incredible is how many chapters are still missing, the topics yet to be discovered. I really should be writing down more of my experiences; however if I did, I wouldn’t have time to be living it.

Attitude reflects leadership, Captain

One month in and I’m starting to feel settled into a routine. Roads are becoming more familiar, prices are starting to be fixed in my head, and my schedule is slowly having a rhythm. I have made many hard decisions, have relied on many different people, and am still surprised by all of the situations that I am faced with. Despite all that I have ahead of me I can look back at this past month and see many tangible results of my work.

Now that I have been here a while, I feel like I can start to formulate generalizations about Cameroonian culture. Something that has drastically struck me is the corruption. Before going to Cameroon I was warned that the President (Paul Biya) is one of the most corrupt in the world. Unsure of what this statement was based on, and cognizant that this is often the reality in Africa, I didn’t think this would affect me in any great measure. How wrong was I…

As corny as it may seem, to take the line “attitude reflects leadership, Captain,” from the movie Remember the Titans, captures the sentiments of many Cameroonians. As leader of the country for over 30 years, President Biya’s actions have impregnated in the general public that corruption is the norm and is passably acceptable. It is common knowledge that every government run facility functions mainly on bribes and favoritism. I somewhat expected this, but what has surprised me is the extent of general public who also participate in this behavior. I could name at least five situations that I have either witnessed or heard secondhand that involve blatant bribing and/or cheating. In the interest of space I will recount two experiences I have had: one involving a government official and one involving a teacher at my school.

The first week of class was unusual by Noula school standards because we received three Ministry of Education officials of different ranking in the course of two days. On Tuesday I was caught unawares when the regional Ministry of Education inspector came to call (this is the second from the top to the entire ministry). David was out running errands and Papa Jean our bookkeeper was gone, so I was left to receive the inspector on my own. Thankfully our Pedagogic Advisor was there to help me answer some of the questions they asked of me.

In explaining what was happening at our school that week it was clear that the inspector was not pleased at all with our week of revision before placing students with their teacher for the year. Our problem, we explained, was that we couldn’t set kids in their classes yet because we didn’t know how many would be in each grade, thereby determining if we needed to pair any grades together and thus eliminate a teacher. Still unconvinced she moved on to our administration. Becoming incensed at the fact that David, the director had no formal training in the educational field, the inspector repeated that we had better get him to leave the school otherwise she hinted we could get shut down. While trying my best to reason with this woman, our Pedagogic Advisor interrupted me to ask me into the side room. He explained that the only way to calm her down was to pass off 5,000 CFA, with the explanation of “gas money for the travel.” Too overcome by this reality and unsure how to handle this type of bribery, I asked the Advisor to do it. The scene unfolded as he predicted; upon receiving the money the inspector stopped raising her voice, she left all of her complaints aside, became somewhat pleasant, and decided she could leave. I showed her out the door with her saying, “you should look into finding a new director, I’m not sure the present man is appropriate.” Situation immensely diffused? I think so.

A few days after the scene of the bribe the school fell victim to a teacher trying to take advantage of our orphan reduction policy. This woman, the most senior at our school and making significantly more than everyone else, came to David and I with a new family. She was a friend of theirs and the man was recently widowed, meaning one of his kids under our policy was applicable for a 1/3^rd tuition reduction. The teacher told us that even this was too little, “this man is having a really hard time, I don’t think he can pay so much for all of his kids to come to school here.” She then went on to insinuate that if we didn’t give him a bigger reduction he had threatened to go to another school. We explained that he himself would need to come talk to us further if we were to go beyond our typical policy. The teacher kept saying “no, no, he has to work.” Trying all manner of guilting, anger, and demand for compassion, we gave the teacher our final number and said to send this father to talk to us. She responded like an spiteful child saying, “fine, I’ll tell him you won’t be flexible and we’ll see if he even decides to bring his children here.”

After this exchange David went and spoke with the kids of the parent in question (they were already attending school, just without having been registered). He found out that their father had never once suggested that the kids go anywhere else except Noula and that he also was of a means to not need extenuating tuition reductions. As David repeated this back to me, he also reported that he had seen that our teacher had had registration money in her hand while talking to us, further proving that this father had sent her to register the kids regardless.

The next day the teacher returned and said that the number we had given was too high, the father had said he needed 10,000 CFA less (approx ~$25). When I stood firm on my decision, reiterating that things could change if he himself came, she broke down and said, “fine, just register the kids already.” The sum she gave me on this family’s behalf was almost the entire total of the registration and tuition fees for all of the children! The ability to give a large sum of money at one time is pretty rare and again spoke to the fact that the teacher was hoping to take the money saved from the extra reduction and pocket it for her own.

This example of corruption outside of the government greatly disturbed me. Not only was this our own teacher (someone who we are soon to fire anyways), but she had been with our school for 8 years! While this is only one person, other stories of Cameroonian friends’ acquaintances have illustrated similar mentalities. I will never say that most Cameroonians are corrupt, however the frequency of these occurrences and the conclusive statement being that “this is what Cameroonians are like,” has made me acutely aware of what happens when a government breaks down and starts a chain of actions repeated and tolerated by its people.

Noula School photos

Some of the adorable nursery school kids. Don't know their names. Don't really need to with their disarming smiles.

School line-up, 7:30 AM bright and early. Kids are lined up by class/grade.

Family Hardships – Part 1

Throughout these past few weeks of registering students I have had to work with parents to figure out how they are going to pay the tuition for their children. I have gotten multiple emotions when dealing with the initial registration: shock, anger, cunning, aggression, despair, resignation, and defeat.

Today I met with a woman who came in to settle up her remaining account from last year, and to register her kids for this year. As we looked at what she owed and added it to this coming year’s total, the cloud of unbelief settled upon her. The sum was staggering; her husband has no job and lies to her about where he spends their money (e.g. when he is supposed to pay for the school), and as mother and housekeeper she has no stable income either. As she looked at me she asked if there was anything we could do to help her. I responded by asking her how much she was able to put forth. Bowing her head, she told me half of the total (including what she owed). Going through my mind I was thinking of how much of a cut the school would have to absorb. When I suggested a total that better accounted for the money she still owed, her shoulders sagged and her eyes started to fill with tears. There was no money. With such a case, I knew that the school would take the loss. As she handed over the little she had to start off the year, it was clear that she had scrounged, giving everything in small crumpled bills.

What is unfortunate is that this woman was not an unusual case. Her story especially touched me for some reason, but I am faced with decisions every day on how much of a reduction I should give to families. This is what pulls me to my interest in educational development: the importance of giving everyone a chance at a good education. It is clear that this mother knew how vital it is for a student to learn, and that if left to the public sector, her children would be lost to the masses. Why should her children not be given a chance? In Yaoundé (and probably most other urban areas), public primary schools usually average about 90 kids a classroom. In this setting, I can’t imagine children under the age of 10 being able to develop, flourish, and create a solid foundation for their future support of their growing country.

Not only is this school about providing opportunities for children, but it is also a mechanism for encouraging women and mothers to take a greater interest in education. While I may not be “business savvy” in my recruitment and registration methods, our school is providing an essential service to the community. We are looking towards preparing the future generation of leaders, workers, and citizens. Idealistic as it may be, David is constantly talking about how the good formation of students now will allow Cameroon to develop in the future. As Americans, we don’t usually think of our education as an investment in our country; it is an investment in oneself. While this too plays a role in Cameroonian parental motives, there is also an undertone of acknowledgement of the betterment of their larger world and nation.

These possibilities drive me to keep working. It gives me the hope that someone will recognize this goal in our school and help us to continue providing more opportunities.

First Day of School

“La rentree” as it is called in French, I experienced my first “first day of school” not as a student, but from the other side, as an administrator. What a different way of running things here. The first day found me receiving parents who were still registering their children, bargaining for computers, giving an interview for the radio, and managing the food vendors for the school. I couldn’t believe the entire day was packed with the parents who waited until the day of to put their kids in school (and apparently it is like this all week).

School starts at 7:15 AM, but most students didn’t get in until 8-9. Everyone was gathered in the courtyard in front of the classrooms and separated into “levels,” a grouping system Cameroon uses for classes. One of the teachers had the students march in place while singing some common song. Then as he whistled at everyone, they all filed into their respective classrooms. Slightly militant, but the kids seemed to be having fun.

The teachers who remained from last year then took over the level they had taught and held typical “first day” lessons, complete with revision of last year’s material.

Last week was the first day of school for the teachers (like in the US). Whoever showed up on the first of September was given his/her job back. Everyone else was assumed to have moved on to other things. The second or third was the day that everyone who had applied for a job showed up. After waiting about 2 hours (for our Pedagogic Advisor) all the prospective and old teachers took a “test.” Each person was required to write two essays, one commenting on a quote, and one describing how to handle a classroom. These then became a large basis for deciding what level each teacher would be teaching.

According to everyone, this entire week will be the same as today. No real schedule, no real classes. As of yet, no schedule has been set and no teacher knows what class he/she is teaching. After Friday we review the number of students we have for each grade. We then decide how many teachers we need (dragging along the applicants until this weekend), and what class they will take. Imagine my surprise to hear that teachers can’t prepare lesson plans until the weekend after school starts!

As for me, I won’t start teaching my computer classes (part-time) until next week. Good thing, since A) we only have one working computer (my old laptop) and B) the teacher’s books the government says I am supposed to use have not yet been printed…

Thus went my day. Everyday something new.

Photos of my family and School!

MY FAMILY!!!!

Me, Sorel, Daryl, Maman Solange, David, Arnold

Candice, baby Aharian, Christiana, Iness, Sabina

The Noula School - Where I work.