In Batouri/Bertoua:
Motorcycles. Yep. That’s right, yours truly rides many, many motorcycles a day. They’re a pretty common form of transportation throughout Africa from what I understand, and as a result, every PCV has a super-stylish helmet to wear (and I accentuate super-stylish, there’s nothing like sticking out with a shiny blue and silver helmet in a community where no one wears helmets.) Some volunteers in remote villages take hour or more long motorcycle rides to reach post—that’s not an option for where I live, but I’m looking forward to visiting friends at their posts and having my first long moto ride. I’ve seen as many as six people crammed onto one moto, and I’ve also seen Moms carrying their babies on motos so that they’re hanging off the moto—terrifying. Within Batouri, all of the moto-drivers are men and most of them are pretty young. Some drivers wear heavy down coats and woolen caps for protection, which is mostly just comical because it’s so hot here; I recently saw a motorman wearing a tee-shirt from Great Lakes Elementary which is not terrifically far from where I grew up, which was cool.
There are a few private cars in town, most of which are owned by either officials within the government or international aid organizations—the aid cars are always giant white SUVs with huge decals on the side proclaiming Red Cross, UNFPA, WFP, UNDP, UNHCR, GIZ…we’ve got many, many development organizations in Batouri, clearly. I’ve ridden in a couple of cars in Batouri and it’s always a surreal experience—comfort, radio, windows, and a seatbelt. Most of the time I’m in the car with my host organization, Esperance, doing site visits with the families they work with in the community, but I’ve been in a couple of government-owned cars and a few privately-owned cars as well. It’s great and fantastic being in cars, even the crappiest amongst them. Still, I would never want to drive in Cameroon: the roads are terrible and Cameroonians are ridiculously aggressive drivers—even when street signs or traffic signs exist, they don’t mean anything, nor do Cameroonian drivers like to stay in the correct lane most of the time.
Leaving Post:
For me to get to either Bertoua or Kentzou (the two cities closest to me
with other volunteers,) I take a bus called the Saviom…all the volunteers call
them Prison Buses because that’s what they look like, as there’s a metal grate
that separates the driver from the rest of the passengers. These exist in my
little section of the East (“Extreme East,” as we’ve taken to describing
ourselves,) as well as parts of the Adamaoua. They’re supposed to fit 28 people
(Five people a row, five rows, plus three passengers in the cabin sitting next
to the driver,) but oftentimes there are people standing up in the back,
holding on to the ladder that leads to the top of the bus where luggage is
stored, or sitting on top of the luggage. Each row is composed of two benches with a fold-down seat in the middle, the fold-down seat in front of the door being the most uncomfortable spot to ride in. The spots in the cabin are reserved
for the Grands (the important people in the community)—male PCVs are almost
always guaranteed a spot in the cabin, but it’s a lot more difficult to secure
a seat there as a woman. The potential benefits of a cabin seat are huge,
though: more leg room, more space on the bench, less dust, etc.
The prison bus into Batouri is an adventure that’s not for the
weak-stomached, lovers of personal space, or impatient. There are usually
various animals being transported either inside the bus or on top of the bus,
which makes the ride really fun: nothing quite like combining the sound of
crying babies, bleating goats, and hens in a small vehicle. The sides of the
bus have a reminder not to vomit, spit, or talk to driver, which is clearly very
confidence-inducing. Luckily, I’ve yet to see anyone vomit on a ride (knock on
wood, inshallah, and on espère.) The bus has no radio, is overcrowded, feels like
it’s a million degrees most of the time, dusty, and often makes a million stops
either for prayer, to pick up more passengers even though the bus is already
full, or to buy various food products (plantains, manioc, grilled beef, milk,
etc.) The roads are unpaved and in need of serious reparation, I often get off
the bus with some pretty impressive bruises. Breakdowns are not uncommon, and
neither are accidents. I’ve had three flat tires and one broken belt in my four
months at post, but another friend who visited had the treat of her bus needing
to get towed in by a logging truck because it broke down so badly 10km from the
bus stop. Normally Cameroonians have an amazing talent to MacGyver solutions to
automotive problems out of the most ridiculous items they find on the side of
the road—they could definitely teach a few tricks to American auto mechanics.
Basically, traveling to leave Batouri makes me feel like I’m an en
brousse BAMF. As much as I complain about the prison buses (which is,
admittedly, a lot) it’s a fantastic bragging point :) I’ve made the 90km trip
in anywhere from 2.75 hours to 4.5 hours, but with rainy season picking up, I’m
expecting the travel to get worse. I’ve also been informed to prepare myself to
do have to get out and push in the mud or to trudge through the mud so that the
bus can more easily navigate.
Other Forms of Transport:
In bigger cities, motorcycles are substituted for taxis. There isn’t anything terrifically exciting or fantastic about these, although drivers do sometimes decorate them with flashing lights, weird paint jobs, furry seats, fake flowers, and weird sayings. We don’t have any in Batouri, but they’re all that you can take in Yaounde (the country capital) because Moto-Taxis are illegal. Given a choice between taking a moto or a taxi, I usually prefer the moto-it’s faster, less crowded, and the likelihood is that it’ll smell less like BO since there’s the wind. Oh the things that inform our preferences….
To get up to the Grand North (Adamaoua, North, Extreme North,) volunteers take a night train that has beds in it. I haven’t taken it yet, although there is a stop in the East at 2am that I could technically use to get to Yaounde, but it’s more expensive. I do plan to take the train at some point, but there’s an alternate route through the East by bus that I want to try out someday, too.
There are US-style Mega-Buses for most trips from a big city to another big city. I took a great one from Yaounde to Bertoua recently that had padded seats, radio, and a tv that played music videos. Most of the time on these big buses there’s some guy (or guys if you’re really unlucky) that stand up and try to sell you some weird kind of medical products. The speech is almost exactly the same every time, and the products are always the same: toothbrushes, toothpaste, ginseng rub to get rid of headaches, some weird pill that’s supposed to clean any liquid and turn it into water, various products to increase male and female potency, something to erase STIs including HIV, etc. Someday I should write down the things they say—I’ve heard weird statements about the Chinese reproducing like rabbits because they’ve unlocked the magic of a special herb, for instance, as well as more anti-feminist comments than I care to remember. I’ve listened to these speeches for as long as two and a half hours, and then had some other idiot get up and give the exact same one; the speeches are basically the Cameroonian version of a bad, late-night infomercial. Plus side: mega-buses usually make some really excellent stops for food—bananas, pineapple, peanuts, mangoes, grilled meat, beignets, etc. These stops are way, way better than American fast-food, and one of those little things that I know I’ll miss when I return.
I think that’s about it transportation-wise. I’m sure there’ll be many, many stories to come in the future, although hopefully soon it’ll be coupled with stories about fantastic new places. In August, I’ll be heading to the beaches of Kribi to help run the National Girl’s Forum—a conference that my program is running for professionals involved in fields that promote women’s empowerment. Kribi is about three days worth of travel from where I live. But, before that, I have at least two more trips back to Yaounde for the Program Advisory Committee and Steering Committee. Needless to say, travel in specific and life in general is always an adventure out here. And, as for all of you, as school is about to let out for the summer and the weather’s getting warm and sunny again, have a happy vacation season, everyone! Miss you all and wishing you my best!
With Love,
In bigger cities, motorcycles are substituted for taxis. There isn’t anything terrifically exciting or fantastic about these, although drivers do sometimes decorate them with flashing lights, weird paint jobs, furry seats, fake flowers, and weird sayings. We don’t have any in Batouri, but they’re all that you can take in Yaounde (the country capital) because Moto-Taxis are illegal. Given a choice between taking a moto or a taxi, I usually prefer the moto-it’s faster, less crowded, and the likelihood is that it’ll smell less like BO since there’s the wind. Oh the things that inform our preferences….
To get up to the Grand North (Adamaoua, North, Extreme North,) volunteers take a night train that has beds in it. I haven’t taken it yet, although there is a stop in the East at 2am that I could technically use to get to Yaounde, but it’s more expensive. I do plan to take the train at some point, but there’s an alternate route through the East by bus that I want to try out someday, too.
There are US-style Mega-Buses for most trips from a big city to another big city. I took a great one from Yaounde to Bertoua recently that had padded seats, radio, and a tv that played music videos. Most of the time on these big buses there’s some guy (or guys if you’re really unlucky) that stand up and try to sell you some weird kind of medical products. The speech is almost exactly the same every time, and the products are always the same: toothbrushes, toothpaste, ginseng rub to get rid of headaches, some weird pill that’s supposed to clean any liquid and turn it into water, various products to increase male and female potency, something to erase STIs including HIV, etc. Someday I should write down the things they say—I’ve heard weird statements about the Chinese reproducing like rabbits because they’ve unlocked the magic of a special herb, for instance, as well as more anti-feminist comments than I care to remember. I’ve listened to these speeches for as long as two and a half hours, and then had some other idiot get up and give the exact same one; the speeches are basically the Cameroonian version of a bad, late-night infomercial. Plus side: mega-buses usually make some really excellent stops for food—bananas, pineapple, peanuts, mangoes, grilled meat, beignets, etc. These stops are way, way better than American fast-food, and one of those little things that I know I’ll miss when I return.
I think that’s about it transportation-wise. I’m sure there’ll be many, many stories to come in the future, although hopefully soon it’ll be coupled with stories about fantastic new places. In August, I’ll be heading to the beaches of Kribi to help run the National Girl’s Forum—a conference that my program is running for professionals involved in fields that promote women’s empowerment. Kribi is about three days worth of travel from where I live. But, before that, I have at least two more trips back to Yaounde for the Program Advisory Committee and Steering Committee. Needless to say, travel in specific and life in general is always an adventure out here. And, as for all of you, as school is about to let out for the summer and the weather’s getting warm and sunny again, have a happy vacation season, everyone! Miss you all and wishing you my best!
With Love,
Steph
No comments:
Post a Comment