We’d been invited to a three day celebration in a nearby village, Njirong, who were celebrating the loss of their late Fon, although he was “lost” years ago. We had to buy 20 litres of palm wine and 2 crates of beer for the party, of which, again, we unfortunately got to drink very little of. With our drinks filling every spare space in the car, we trundled off to Njirong. We were going to travel in convoy, and the other car was a pickup truck, with a few blokes surfing the road in the back. I couldn’t resist, so hopped out the car to join them. Tom joined me part way through after my rave reviews. It was incredible, standing up in the back of the truck (holding on tightly mind you), surfing the road and taking in the wonderful views of the tea plantations. The fresh tea leaves on the top of the plants cast a wonderful shade of lime green on the valley sides, should make an incredible photo.
On the road to the celebrations, the so-called “Ju-jus” (pronounced jew-jews”), were dancing and frolicking around on the road. They were men, dressed up in incredibly daunting, evil-looking costumes. They were faceless, with bags over their faces, who would whip the ground aggressively at random intervals, and between whippings, wold hold the whipping sticks over their shoulders like Dick Whittington’s lunch. They also shouted and screamed and jumped up and down. Difficult beings to describe. Anyway, later on, Tom and I were watching a dancing/singing/whipping performance by them, and one of them approached me (no face, so a little unnerving), dancing in front of me. For quite a while, I didn’t notice (but Tom saw, from afar) that he was violently shaking his fake phallus in my direction. All on video, absolutely hilarious.
That day, much time was spent chilling inside, sheltering from the rain that was absolutely pouring. The noise it makes on the tin roof is absolutely brain shattering. The sound really gets inside your head, and you can’t hear anything else, or talk to anyone. So everyone sits, not talking, dumb from the rain.
As we sat there, heart racing from the ju-ju performance, rain beating against my brain, a little wet, the next thing to happen came as quite a surprise. Tom and I sat, back to the window, while a ju-ju performance occurred outside. Next thing we know, one of their bloody whipping sticks breaks the glass behind me, sending shattered panes of glass in collision with the back of my next. The noise of the breaking glass, and the feeling of it on my next sent me flying, clasping my neck, fearing the worst. Fortunately, it was all good, and I moved to a different seat. The seat had a huge hole in it, so I complained and some other poor soul had to sit there. Well, after my morning I felt I deserved it.
Next thing we know, we’re outside watching (cowering away from) celebratory gun shot firing. They were randomly firing into the air, a little too far from the vertical for my liking. Tinnitus set in.
We were fed the most wonderful beef, with Fuh-fuh (like savoury flour jelly stuff) and huckleberry (like cabbage), and afterwards we were led outside. To our surprise, we were to be given a second title, an honoury title of a red feather, which was traditionally given to warriors for their courage. I was named as vice-prime minister, so I can rule in the absence of a leader. Tom was head administrator of land allocation, or something like that. It was all a little confusing. But what it meant was that we had to go back to the village at a later date, which was 1 hour away, bearing unbearably ubiquitous palm wine. Happy days.
After driving back to Ndu, Tom was fined a bottle of wine for removing his cap. To be honest, I don’t blame him, they’re terribly uncomfortable. They sit, very tight against the scalp, squeezing your hair against your head, and resulting in poor eyebrow manoeuvrability. Bad times.
The next day, we finished our research in Jirt, and then on Saturday we started in Ntundip. Nothing too interesting to report there, only that we’ve hit nearly 700 data points. That afternoon, we returned to Njirong to thank them for our red feathers. Also, Claris received a rare title as part of our research team. It is not ofen women receive such titles. While I was there, I took this photo of crazy-star-trek-forehead-man. Quite a good shot.
Photo later, sorry.
Monday, 28 July 2008
Wednesday, 23 July 2008
George Collins: Prince of Jiggers
A running total of 418 data points, and over 800 hands and feet inspected, I have begun having nightmares about feet. Feet, feet, feet and more feet. Although we finish our research early afternoon, the data entry is usually left until after lunch, cribbage and other distractions, so we finish it just before sleepy time. Entering data is tedious, monotonous, robotic and automatic. If we’re lucky, some drying paint outside catches our interest before we continue with the task in hand. Tom’s fastest time is 19.24 seconds for one questionnaire, although I believe the speed that the data is read out deserves the most credit.
We finished our data collection at Mbipgo (the village full of horrible, cold hearted (headed) bullies), and moved to our next village, “Fuh”, to notify them of our arrival and meet the Fon, and elders (notables). Every time we visit the Fon, Collins forks out for 10 litres of palm wine. The volume seems a little exaggerated, and although it only costs £1, I not only dislike the drink, others seem to drink volumes of the white, translucent liquid, without ever receiving thanks. In fact, thanks for my generosity are rare. I guess this is the culture, but to my moderately selfish self, it’s a little culture shocking.
As we left the Fon’s palace, the rain poured and we were met by an almighty bang, which we soon realised was a lightening strike, a little too close for comfort. Tom and I absolutely jumped out of our skin, leapt across the compound as if it had hit us! As I stood there, counting the seconds between the light and thunder, it must have hit nearby, within 100m radius. Furthermore, the Fon later told us that this was a “test”, and that we passed!? I’d be interested to know how one fails this test based on our performance!
The next day we started unbearably early, and cramming 4 people in the back seat on appalling roads, hitting my scar on the roof every 5 seconds, I could have gone without. We had to be finished by 12 because this was the day of our knighthood! Tom and I were to be made Princes of the village! The ceremony began with a formal introduction of the schedule (much like at the party I talked about earlier, the one with the cool music), followed by Genesis introducing me, me introducing the team and the project, the MC introducing the Fon and the Fon introducing a notable, and the notable introducing the notables. After this bombshell of introductions, we were led out to the “Heart of the Palace”, where the past Fons were buried, and we were told about the history of the village “Fuh”, of which we were about to become notables. We were both given traditional gowns; my glasses were elegantly scraped to the tip of my nose as the tight collar came over my face. Unfortunately, all on video.
Next, Tom and I were given our traditional caps, mine resembling a monochromatic porcupine, which I believe makes me superior to Tom’s “Spike-free” cap. A notable stood up and handed me a certificate, which stated that I was now a first class citizen of the Wikah people, and my new name was “Shey M’Bwang”, meaning Prince of Jiggers. I could barely contain myself. Tom was called “Shey M’Kuuh”, meaning Prince of Feet, or “Foot Prince”.
Anyway, our research in Fuh continued, and after a days work the next day Tom and I had a day of. It was market day, and I knew exactly what I wanted. An oversized Tom Cruise hologram belt buckle. What do you know? They had it! Splendid. Unfortunately, it makes sitting rather uncomfortable, but the pain is worth it.
The market never ceases to amaze me, in particular the brand names that are applied to fake apparel. One of the classics is a fluorescent training jacket, with “Adidas” written on in permanent market. “That’s legit”, says the trader. Another time, an appalling beige jacket, had the washing information label sewed onto the lapel. Ironically, it said “wash inside-out”! Tom and I both bought ridiculous hats from the market, mine a ghastly fluorescent yellow “nike” hat, and Tom bought a pink and green balaclava. It has a hole just big enough to fit Tom’s ratty little munchkin features.
On an aside, our cook, Pascalene, is a fantastic cook. But a few days ago I thought I’d suggest different foods she might try for us. I said the following:
a) The sardine meatballs she made were unpleasant
b) Would she be able to make us a traditional Cameroonian pudding (as in dessert, which I explained to her). She seemingly understood.)
What was served up for dinner the next day? A savoury sardine pudding. Tasty.
Eat that Collins. Once again, that’ll learn you.
Another rather amusing occurrence. As Tom and I nervously awaited our knighting, our colleague Claris, feeling a little famished, started eating the wall! A little taken aback, but willing to try, Tom and I didn’t want to feel left out. Unfortunately, we were disappointed, and it did, literally, taste like you’d expect. Dry, and like mud. Yum.
Our research in Fuh had finished, and we moved onto Mbah, which was a small village to which we’d dedicated only one day of data collection. Saying that, we’d thought it’d be quite a long day. Anyway, as per usual, we met the fon with his compulsory gift of ubiquitous palm wine, and chilled out in his palace for a good hour or so. This palm wine was a few days old, meaning it had fermented a little more than we were used to. So, after an hour, out came the red wine, a gift from the fon to us. We couldn’t refuse (no really, we couldn’t) and after a glass of two we felt really excited about feet inspection...Fortunately, we were still fit to gather reliable data, but we had a good nap in the afternoon!
I thought I was seeing things when I saw that someone had six toes, but no! See the photos...
A couple of local songs that are really getting us going:
Magic System - Tabedo
Baltimal - Tarzan Boy
(spellings unknown)
Sorry about the lack of photos, but here is a link to the public facebook album!
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=25075&l=a6ef8&id=511649878
A running total of 418 data points, and over 800 hands and feet inspected, I have begun having nightmares about feet. Feet, feet, feet and more feet. Although we finish our research early afternoon, the data entry is usually left until after lunch, cribbage and other distractions, so we finish it just before sleepy time. Entering data is tedious, monotonous, robotic and automatic. If we’re lucky, some drying paint outside catches our interest before we continue with the task in hand. Tom’s fastest time is 19.24 seconds for one questionnaire, although I believe the speed that the data is read out deserves the most credit.
We finished our data collection at Mbipgo (the village full of horrible, cold hearted (headed) bullies), and moved to our next village, “Fuh”, to notify them of our arrival and meet the Fon, and elders (notables). Every time we visit the Fon, Collins forks out for 10 litres of palm wine. The volume seems a little exaggerated, and although it only costs £1, I not only dislike the drink, others seem to drink volumes of the white, translucent liquid, without ever receiving thanks. In fact, thanks for my generosity are rare. I guess this is the culture, but to my moderately selfish self, it’s a little culture shocking.
As we left the Fon’s palace, the rain poured and we were met by an almighty bang, which we soon realised was a lightening strike, a little too close for comfort. Tom and I absolutely jumped out of our skin, leapt across the compound as if it had hit us! As I stood there, counting the seconds between the light and thunder, it must have hit nearby, within 100m radius. Furthermore, the Fon later told us that this was a “test”, and that we passed!? I’d be interested to know how one fails this test based on our performance!
The next day we started unbearably early, and cramming 4 people in the back seat on appalling roads, hitting my scar on the roof every 5 seconds, I could have gone without. We had to be finished by 12 because this was the day of our knighthood! Tom and I were to be made Princes of the village! The ceremony began with a formal introduction of the schedule (much like at the party I talked about earlier, the one with the cool music), followed by Genesis introducing me, me introducing the team and the project, the MC introducing the Fon and the Fon introducing a notable, and the notable introducing the notables. After this bombshell of introductions, we were led out to the “Heart of the Palace”, where the past Fons were buried, and we were told about the history of the village “Fuh”, of which we were about to become notables. We were both given traditional gowns; my glasses were elegantly scraped to the tip of my nose as the tight collar came over my face. Unfortunately, all on video.
Next, Tom and I were given our traditional caps, mine resembling a monochromatic porcupine, which I believe makes me superior to Tom’s “Spike-free” cap. A notable stood up and handed me a certificate, which stated that I was now a first class citizen of the Wikah people, and my new name was “Shey M’Bwang”, meaning Prince of Jiggers. I could barely contain myself. Tom was called “Shey M’Kuuh”, meaning Prince of Feet, or “Foot Prince”.
Anyway, our research in Fuh continued, and after a days work the next day Tom and I had a day of. It was market day, and I knew exactly what I wanted. An oversized Tom Cruise hologram belt buckle. What do you know? They had it! Splendid. Unfortunately, it makes sitting rather uncomfortable, but the pain is worth it.
The market never ceases to amaze me, in particular the brand names that are applied to fake apparel. One of the classics is a fluorescent training jacket, with “Adidas” written on in permanent market. “That’s legit”, says the trader. Another time, an appalling beige jacket, had the washing information label sewed onto the lapel. Ironically, it said “wash inside-out”! Tom and I both bought ridiculous hats from the market, mine a ghastly fluorescent yellow “nike” hat, and Tom bought a pink and green balaclava. It has a hole just big enough to fit Tom’s ratty little munchkin features.
On an aside, our cook, Pascalene, is a fantastic cook. But a few days ago I thought I’d suggest different foods she might try for us. I said the following:
a) The sardine meatballs she made were unpleasant
b) Would she be able to make us a traditional Cameroonian pudding (as in dessert, which I explained to her). She seemingly understood.)
What was served up for dinner the next day? A savoury sardine pudding. Tasty.
Eat that Collins. Once again, that’ll learn you.
Another rather amusing occurrence. As Tom and I nervously awaited our knighting, our colleague Claris, feeling a little famished, started eating the wall! A little taken aback, but willing to try, Tom and I didn’t want to feel left out. Unfortunately, we were disappointed, and it did, literally, taste like you’d expect. Dry, and like mud. Yum.
Our research in Fuh had finished, and we moved onto Mbah, which was a small village to which we’d dedicated only one day of data collection. Saying that, we’d thought it’d be quite a long day. Anyway, as per usual, we met the fon with his compulsory gift of ubiquitous palm wine, and chilled out in his palace for a good hour or so. This palm wine was a few days old, meaning it had fermented a little more than we were used to. So, after an hour, out came the red wine, a gift from the fon to us. We couldn’t refuse (no really, we couldn’t) and after a glass of two we felt really excited about feet inspection...Fortunately, we were still fit to gather reliable data, but we had a good nap in the afternoon!
I thought I was seeing things when I saw that someone had six toes, but no! See the photos...
A couple of local songs that are really getting us going:
Magic System - Tabedo
Baltimal - Tarzan Boy
(spellings unknown)
Sorry about the lack of photos, but here is a link to the public facebook album!
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=25075&l=a6ef8&id=511649878
Thursday, 17 July 2008
The night after my last post, we'd been "cordially" invited to Valery's 20th birthday celebration. The invite was hilarious. Within it were contained the lyrics to Happy Birthday! You have to see it, but there was a strict programme, starting at 6.
Tom and I foolishly arrived at 7. The room was completely empty, and we were showed to our vacant V.I.P chairs. We sensitively turned them down to sit outside.
The programme started with the "Welcoming of the celebrant", followed by the introduction of the V.I.Ps, us, as well as close family and friends. Following this was the "popping of the champagne" and the playing of "cool music". Cool music was mentioned 4 times on the invite!
Tom was asked to pop open the champagne, and I caught the fizz with a nearby glass and handed it to the celebrant. This went down very well with the locals! We were handed a copy of the celebrant's speech, which included classic phrases like "There are no fruits without the roots" and others gems straight from the phrase book.
The day after Tom was a little sick, so our day was suspended, but so far our days have been quite long and our data has been flowing. We are getting more efficient at feet inspection. Now that Claris has gone home for a few days to Buea, Tom and I are simultaneously inspecting feet while the others work on filling in the questionnaires.
Now that Isaac has gone back to Yaounde, we have been joined by two Cameroonian Medics from the University of Yaounde. They are both called Leo and are both 3rd year Medics. Good guys, that really get down to work, so they're a real asset to the team.
We've now got about 170 questionnaires filled in, with a prevalence a little over 50%. We have completed one village, Njimnkang, and are now nearly finished on Mbipgo.
Mbipgo has been an interesting village. The first compound we visited was full of annoying little children that took the mick out of how we spoke the language. Terribly rude. All we could think of to get them back was to steal their hat and hang it on a high washing line. Hmph. That'll learn them.
We started our second day in Mbipgo away from our abhorrent friends, but soon visited them towards the end of a long day. We were going to sit in on a meeting of all the big shots in the vollage. The fon's palace was full to the brim, and we all shared (my) ubiquitous palm wine. I gave a little speech thanking them for their cooperation, photos were taken and good times were had. But all in Limbum, so we had little idea what was going on. We were given a chicken to say thank you, which I think is tonight's dinner! Splendid!
Today we met an albino! Leo told us that they used to be buried alive with deceased fon, to keep him company, and to make sure all was well. Astonishingly, this was only ceased in the 80s!
I will message soon, but for the mean time, here is one photo! This is Tom and I with the Fon at Njimnkang!
http://photos-878.ll.facebook.com/photos-ll-sf2p/v309/5/47/511649878/n511649878_574312_9180.jpg
Tom and I foolishly arrived at 7. The room was completely empty, and we were showed to our vacant V.I.P chairs. We sensitively turned them down to sit outside.
The programme started with the "Welcoming of the celebrant", followed by the introduction of the V.I.Ps, us, as well as close family and friends. Following this was the "popping of the champagne" and the playing of "cool music". Cool music was mentioned 4 times on the invite!
Tom was asked to pop open the champagne, and I caught the fizz with a nearby glass and handed it to the celebrant. This went down very well with the locals! We were handed a copy of the celebrant's speech, which included classic phrases like "There are no fruits without the roots" and others gems straight from the phrase book.
The day after Tom was a little sick, so our day was suspended, but so far our days have been quite long and our data has been flowing. We are getting more efficient at feet inspection. Now that Claris has gone home for a few days to Buea, Tom and I are simultaneously inspecting feet while the others work on filling in the questionnaires.
Now that Isaac has gone back to Yaounde, we have been joined by two Cameroonian Medics from the University of Yaounde. They are both called Leo and are both 3rd year Medics. Good guys, that really get down to work, so they're a real asset to the team.
We've now got about 170 questionnaires filled in, with a prevalence a little over 50%. We have completed one village, Njimnkang, and are now nearly finished on Mbipgo.
Mbipgo has been an interesting village. The first compound we visited was full of annoying little children that took the mick out of how we spoke the language. Terribly rude. All we could think of to get them back was to steal their hat and hang it on a high washing line. Hmph. That'll learn them.
We started our second day in Mbipgo away from our abhorrent friends, but soon visited them towards the end of a long day. We were going to sit in on a meeting of all the big shots in the vollage. The fon's palace was full to the brim, and we all shared (my) ubiquitous palm wine. I gave a little speech thanking them for their cooperation, photos were taken and good times were had. But all in Limbum, so we had little idea what was going on. We were given a chicken to say thank you, which I think is tonight's dinner! Splendid!
Today we met an albino! Leo told us that they used to be buried alive with deceased fon, to keep him company, and to make sure all was well. Astonishingly, this was only ceased in the 80s!
I will message soon, but for the mean time, here is one photo! This is Tom and I with the Fon at Njimnkang!
http://photos-878.ll.facebook.com/photos-ll-sf2p/v309/5/47/511649878/n511649878_574312_9180.jpg
Saturday, 12 July 2008
Just Ndu It!
Hello there, all you anglophonians. Unfortunately photos are a complete no-go, so for those wishing to see more infected phalanges, all I can bring is disappointment.
After the last post, Tom and I went straight to our first football training. I forced Tom to go skins because I was worried that there is, indeed, no second first impressions, and that if I was to remove my top I might be banished from the village. We gladly jogged on (I was wearing my anti-ergonomic FILA pumps, so tom had a distinctly unfair advantage in his astros) onto the pitch. We were in training, so were playing in goals the size of a pigs testicle. As you will agree, these are fairly hard to score in, however Tom and I both came close. I went for an epic header, 3 yds (in a full-size goal, 300m) away and hit the bar. Tom came close with a great volley from 10yds, which hit the post. We were taken aback when the players repeatedly kicked the ball back to the keeper from a corner, instead of passing to a topless, fat, un-marked white man in front of an open (croquet sized) goal.
The next day, we began our research, our first victims were the residents of "Njimkang", and village of 3500; currently with a prevalence of 30% tungiasis. However, after only 30 or so questionnaires, the sample is small and insignificant. We aim to inspect and questions about 10% of them, to gauge a rough idea of the prevalence, risk factors and misconceptions they have about the jigger flea.
Wherever we go, people look. That is, more than the usual. When I am with Tom, they look less. That'll be his repulsive features and apalling chat. Some smile and some stare. Others, it seems, simply laugh at us, which is a little off putting seeing as we're here to help them and they're ripping the pith. For the time being, at least, they can be forgiven.
Our first day in Njimkang was that of beautiful sunshine, a little unexpected, and my ugly friend struggled out with appalingly red features. No jigger fleas, fortunately. We strolled in with our fleeces, umbrellas, raincoats and walking boots to realise this was one of two days of ripe sunshine that was to follow. Needless to says, we needed the intermittent, dribble of a shower we had afterwards.
Our research is going well, we have 1000 questionnaires which we are making our way through. The problem is that Tom and I cannot speak Limbum, the native language. So our days are spent overseeing and generally ensuring all is well and good, intead of filling in the questionnaires.
We're learning the important phrases, they are generally related to the "then and now", such and food, drink and toilets. Soon enough we'll be taking a full medical history and discussing their future plans and the imminent visit to England and our house. All 3500 of them!
Our driver Genesis (nick name pronounced "Jenny-shake") is driving us to and from the villages every day, as well as the bar, market and football pitch. He calls me (more than repeatedly, and never fails to find it ecstatically amzusing) George of the Jungle, and Tom is, apparently 'Ku-kum', which we think means, 'horny', or 'likes women...?.
Tom enjoys taking photos of crying children for some reason.
The heading is a pun on "Just do it", not "undo it", please don't get the wrong idea of our trip.
Must go, more later.
After the last post, Tom and I went straight to our first football training. I forced Tom to go skins because I was worried that there is, indeed, no second first impressions, and that if I was to remove my top I might be banished from the village. We gladly jogged on (I was wearing my anti-ergonomic FILA pumps, so tom had a distinctly unfair advantage in his astros) onto the pitch. We were in training, so were playing in goals the size of a pigs testicle. As you will agree, these are fairly hard to score in, however Tom and I both came close. I went for an epic header, 3 yds (in a full-size goal, 300m) away and hit the bar. Tom came close with a great volley from 10yds, which hit the post. We were taken aback when the players repeatedly kicked the ball back to the keeper from a corner, instead of passing to a topless, fat, un-marked white man in front of an open (croquet sized) goal.
The next day, we began our research, our first victims were the residents of "Njimkang", and village of 3500; currently with a prevalence of 30% tungiasis. However, after only 30 or so questionnaires, the sample is small and insignificant. We aim to inspect and questions about 10% of them, to gauge a rough idea of the prevalence, risk factors and misconceptions they have about the jigger flea.
Wherever we go, people look. That is, more than the usual. When I am with Tom, they look less. That'll be his repulsive features and apalling chat. Some smile and some stare. Others, it seems, simply laugh at us, which is a little off putting seeing as we're here to help them and they're ripping the pith. For the time being, at least, they can be forgiven.
Our first day in Njimkang was that of beautiful sunshine, a little unexpected, and my ugly friend struggled out with appalingly red features. No jigger fleas, fortunately. We strolled in with our fleeces, umbrellas, raincoats and walking boots to realise this was one of two days of ripe sunshine that was to follow. Needless to says, we needed the intermittent, dribble of a shower we had afterwards.
Our research is going well, we have 1000 questionnaires which we are making our way through. The problem is that Tom and I cannot speak Limbum, the native language. So our days are spent overseeing and generally ensuring all is well and good, intead of filling in the questionnaires.
We're learning the important phrases, they are generally related to the "then and now", such and food, drink and toilets. Soon enough we'll be taking a full medical history and discussing their future plans and the imminent visit to England and our house. All 3500 of them!
Our driver Genesis (nick name pronounced "Jenny-shake") is driving us to and from the villages every day, as well as the bar, market and football pitch. He calls me (more than repeatedly, and never fails to find it ecstatically amzusing) George of the Jungle, and Tom is, apparently 'Ku-kum', which we think means, 'horny', or 'likes women...?.
Tom enjoys taking photos of crying children for some reason.
The heading is a pun on "Just do it", not "undo it", please don't get the wrong idea of our trip.
Must go, more later.
Thursday, 10 July 2008
Happy Days!
Much to say, and too little time!
After my ridiculously expensive transit flight through Lagos, I arrived in Douala and eventually met up with Tom, Claris and Isaac, who felt it more important to chill in the bar than meet me! No worries. Tom had been waiting 5 hours for me in the airport, during which (in classic t-mac style) he had made some friends, although he didn't realise they would come with a $20 dollar fee! This was what they called "Customs duty". Lesson learnt.
On our trip to Bamenda, with our driver "Napolean" we stopped off in almost every village for a beer (650ml of 7.5% Guinness...happy days) it turns out Isaac somewhat likes his drink (understatement much). So, on what Tom and I saw as a bit of a detox...
We stayed one night in Bamenda, where we had some fantastic food, including "huckleberry", plantain and a pepper sauce deadlier than a blood thirsty black mamba in a inexpensive gun shop.
The road from Bamenda was ridiculously bumpy, and the roof of the car worryingly close to my repaired head wound, which will only ever reach 80% of its original tensile strength. We arrived in Ndu late at night, and Isaac insisted that we have a beer at the "Soul City" bar. We quickly set up a tab.
Our house was incredible, we had a cook, nightwatchman and two dogs called Tom and George. We had a study, kitchen, bathroom, living room and 3 bedrooms...all for 150 smackers per month. Take that, student accommodation.
Isaac and Claris are wonderful people, with a fantastic sense of humour and both very intelligent, down to earth and productive. We could not have hoped for better company, both in the academic project work and as house mates.
We visited our first village yesterday where we will be carrying out our research into the jigger flea. We spoke to the chief (fon) of the village, and all his secretaries and helpers. We shared palm wine (10p per litre) and I introduced the project, and thanked him and his villagers for their cooperation. We tested a few of our pilot questionnaires and also augered a few of our first jiggers! Jiggers that Isaac insisted we take home and dissect...with two pen knives, a head torch and a magnifying glass....all done on a CD case. We saw the contained eggs.
Our meeting with the Fon was so surreal, Tom and I were not allowed to cross our legs, drink with the left hand (only the fon can do this) or speak out of turn. All to pay respect to the chief.
We met the man who has the terrible jigger attacks in his feet shown in the previous post!
That is all for now I am afraid, I hope to upload some photos in Ndu later this week. Research begins tomorrow! Exciting times!
After my ridiculously expensive transit flight through Lagos, I arrived in Douala and eventually met up with Tom, Claris and Isaac, who felt it more important to chill in the bar than meet me! No worries. Tom had been waiting 5 hours for me in the airport, during which (in classic t-mac style) he had made some friends, although he didn't realise they would come with a $20 dollar fee! This was what they called "Customs duty". Lesson learnt.
On our trip to Bamenda, with our driver "Napolean" we stopped off in almost every village for a beer (650ml of 7.5% Guinness...happy days) it turns out Isaac somewhat likes his drink (understatement much). So, on what Tom and I saw as a bit of a detox...
We stayed one night in Bamenda, where we had some fantastic food, including "huckleberry", plantain and a pepper sauce deadlier than a blood thirsty black mamba in a inexpensive gun shop.
The road from Bamenda was ridiculously bumpy, and the roof of the car worryingly close to my repaired head wound, which will only ever reach 80% of its original tensile strength. We arrived in Ndu late at night, and Isaac insisted that we have a beer at the "Soul City" bar. We quickly set up a tab.
Our house was incredible, we had a cook, nightwatchman and two dogs called Tom and George. We had a study, kitchen, bathroom, living room and 3 bedrooms...all for 150 smackers per month. Take that, student accommodation.
Isaac and Claris are wonderful people, with a fantastic sense of humour and both very intelligent, down to earth and productive. We could not have hoped for better company, both in the academic project work and as house mates.
We visited our first village yesterday where we will be carrying out our research into the jigger flea. We spoke to the chief (fon) of the village, and all his secretaries and helpers. We shared palm wine (10p per litre) and I introduced the project, and thanked him and his villagers for their cooperation. We tested a few of our pilot questionnaires and also augered a few of our first jiggers! Jiggers that Isaac insisted we take home and dissect...with two pen knives, a head torch and a magnifying glass....all done on a CD case. We saw the contained eggs.
Our meeting with the Fon was so surreal, Tom and I were not allowed to cross our legs, drink with the left hand (only the fon can do this) or speak out of turn. All to pay respect to the chief.
We met the man who has the terrible jigger attacks in his feet shown in the previous post!
That is all for now I am afraid, I hope to upload some photos in Ndu later this week. Research begins tomorrow! Exciting times!
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