View of the beach 

Driving in Yaounde Part III: The Road Block

Driving in Yaounde has been an experience so unique for me that I will find it difficult to adequately convey. There are numerous aspects to driving here that simply don’t have a translation into “Driving in the US”.

I mentioned before that when the President or some other dignitary drives through town, the main road get shut down. These road closings are always unannounced and never have a fixed duration. However, they are anticipated by a special police force lining major intersections in the hours preceding the road closure. So, when members of this police force are spotted, word is spread that “the road will be closed”, meaning that at some point during the day, the road may be closed and if you need to go anywhere, it had better be sooner rather than later. There are times when such rumors don’t spread fast enough.

A Sunday evening a few weeks ago was such a time. I was returning home after a long afternoon of tennis when my plans to spend a quiet evening of study ran into a blocked intersection. It just so happens that the main road lies between school and my apartment. Determined to get home, I followed some back roads looking for a way through. Intersections were all blocked, as I knew they would be. Now, there is one point where the main road runs over an overpass and it is technically possible to drive underneath. However, as this is the only crossing point, you can imagine what the traffic is like: pure hell. I had a choice: go through hell or join some friends who were president watching at the Hilton for a beer. I wisely chose the latter course. Not only did I soon find my friends sitting comfortably in the lobby of the Hilton, in a prime spot to watch the passing of Brazil’s president Lula, I was treated to an impromptu drum performance by Gilberto Gil, who was traveling with the Brazil team as Minister of Culture. Studies could wait for another day.

intersection is closed until further notice 

Water/Power Cuts

Part of daily life here is the possibility of electricity and/or water supplies being cut. Cuts happen at random times and have arbitrary durations – anywhere from a minute to a day, typically. At times, in cases of a shortage during the dry season, I am led to believe that this is a systematic procedure, where neighborhoods go out on a rolling basis. More often I would guess the cause is shoddy infrastructure. There are stories of water going out for weeks at a time, but this is fortunately something I haven’t experienced. Those of us with resources provide for alternatives: generators and water tanks. There is a large generator at school, and many homes in my neighborhood have them as well. .

Here at my place, the “teacher apartment building”, we have water storage on top of the building but no generator. The water tank lasts for about a day without being replenished, so often we don’t even notice when the water goes out. It has happened though, that I have come back in the evening after a long game of Ultimate, dirty and drenched in sweat, that there is no water left in the tank and I am forced to access the less than adequate barrel of water that is kept in the laundry room for such emergencies, forcing me to experience what it is like for most people here to bathe. Against power outages, there is no backup, which frequently leaves us in the dark and is really not as big a deal as it might seem. Flashlights and candles do the job just fine.

A view of my apartment when the lights unexpectedly go out. 

Pluto

I was recently asked to dog sit/walk a dog whose owner was off to England for medical treatment. She needed to treat a dislocated shoulder or torn ligament caused by none other than my new charge-to-be, Pluto. Pluto is a very, very big dog who, according to his owner, likes to pull hard on his leash, which, if it happens to break suddenly, may cause the person on the other end of the leash to lose balance and fall and dislocate a shoulder. I was a little hesitant to accept her offer.

I did accept, of course. How can one refuse under such circumstances? I soon discovered that Pluto not only pulls hard when he sees other dogs, he has a very complex (though fortunately mild mannered) psyche, one which does not allow him to relate to strangers (me) easily. He won’t come near me voluntarily. When I picked him up for his first walk, he had to be dragged to the door by the housekeeper. I then had to drag him to my car. Fortunately, he’s one of those car-lovin’ dogs, the kind that will drive with their heads out the window, so there’s never a problem getting him into the car.

In all honesty, I volunteered to help dog sit Pluto in part because I imagined this would be a great motivation for me to get out and get some jogging in a couple of times a week. This wasn’t to be. In addition to Pluto’s immense size he also sports immense girth. Let me put it plainly: Pluto waddles like a giant sausage with long legs. I try to take him for a run and it’s me pulling him along. After two miles, he’s done. I’ve considered pulling him along for a couple more laps around the fitness track, but am haunted by the image of Pluto collapsing on me.

I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining. Pluto has a good, gentle soul. We’re getting used to each other; he no longer runs away when I call him over. And I swear he’s already lost a few pounds.

Pluto, filling up the back seat of my car, feeling uneasy about the workout he's about to endure. 

Views

A couple of weeks ago found me in Douala, where I happened upon this striking view of an overgrown graveyard with luminescent green grass almost obscuring the tombstones. My handheld camera wasn't able to adequately capture scene, so a vague impression will have to do.

Douala Graveyard 

Things Fall Apart (Part I)

Yes, its true. One important way things fall apart has to do with the high level of humidity that we always have. Two mundane examples from my apartment:

I live in a very well-maintained apartment. Even so, it doesn't take long for the humidity to work its magic 

Here I tried to capture the layer of mold that grows on virtually anything that has been left lying around for any length of time. In this case you see my formerly black wallet. 

Lariam Dreams

I am asked periodically whether I am taking a Malaria prophylaxis. The answer is both yes and no.

Marlaria is endemic to Cameroon, with common varieties being of the kind that burrow deep into your liver and stay with you for the rest of your life. Needless to say, the prospect of having a parasite holing up in my vital organs for any length of time wasn’t too appealing, so before I came I went on Mefloquine (also known by its brand name Lariam). Mefloquine has gotten a bad rap for having side effects ranging from violent dreams to psychosis. The other options presented to me were A.) Long term antibiotics – not an option in my book or B.) a new drug (Malarone, I think) said to be effective with fewer side effects, but taken daily at $US 5 a pop, and so not in my budget.

Anyway, I get here and discover that the only foreigners taking prophylaxis are employees, either directly or indirectly of the US government. (and to be fair, those attached to agencies of other governments take it as well.) It seemed that nobody at my school was taking any special precautions. Certainly people who live here for any length of time don’t take any. A popular opinion was: “the prophylaxis is worse than the parasite. Better to get it and treat it.” And there do seem to be drugs that treat malaria effectively, as long as you catch it early. Coartem® was the emergency pack handed to me after I stopped taking Mefloquine. Yes, about a month after coming to Cameroon, I stopped taking prophylaxis.

Then, several things happened. More accurately, one thing happened again and again: one by one, all of my fellow foreign hire teachers got Malaria. Yes, this was inevitable, you say, and perhaps it was, given the odds. I had the chance to experience vicariously what the disease was like. Consensus: “I was ready to die.” One of the teachers had such a bad experience that she went on prophylaxis after she recovered (of course, she’s leaving in a couple of months.) I did notice, however that all of the bad cases of Malaria seemed to come after trips to Kribi, Duala or Limbe, destinations at lower elevations where Malaria is both stronger and more prevalent than up here in Yaounde. So back in November I decided to compromise. Before and after I leave Yaounde for warmer climes, I go back on Mefloquine, as a tourist might. In fact, I’m on it right now, having just returned from a trip to Duala. This strategy seems to have worked for me so far.

Have I enjoyed any psychosis as a side effect of taking Mefloquine? No, I haven’t, at least not that I’m aware of. I have had a couple of strange dreams, though. One I am sure was directly caused by the medicine because it came the night I took my weekly dose and is too unusual. In the spirit of the blog, I relay it to you now, as it was recorded in my journal the next morning.

I wake up in the morning and find a long nail hammered deep into my forehead. I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and slowly pull it out, realizing only as it comes out how improbably long it really is. A little blood comes out of the hole as the nail pops out. I feel no pain whatsoever, only the dull sensation of pressure. I become anxious. How did this nail get into my forehead? Who would want to do this? How was a nail hammered into my head without my waking up? I must have been drugged. How can I sleep again knowing that someone is after me? At this point I wake up, shaken but without nail.