Out of Africa...

Final ruminations from the heart of Africa.

Fourteen weeks seemed like a long summer ahead back in May, one that would certainly be full of new experiences.  I was not disappointed! These weeks certainly have been full, but now my time to return home is here. I want to hug my kids…

These three weeks in Cameroon have gone very fast, probably because doing a review of the books is a lot like ordinary work, and  has been easy to keep my head down and just work.  I have not posted as much, in part because I think few would be that (!) interested in my talking about accounting stuff…

I have not observed that much of life in Cameroon, being in an office all day and living behind walls at an SIL training facility/conference site.  Not a good place for walking either, as the nearest road is very busy and there is not much room on the side for pedestrians.  Not that this stops the Cameroonians... But Cameroon has been a good balance of experiences with my time in Congo.  I was in Congo long enough to touch the culture a bit and start making a few budding friendships with some Congolese. Here in Yaoundé, I have been able to see the more of the business side of life, and that has given me a fuller picture of some aspects of living in Africa.

I estimate that there are around 30 administrative people working at SIL here in Yaoundé, a combination of ex-pats and nationals doing the ordinary work of keeping things going – personnel, IT, finance, maintenance, cleaning and the like. Of those, SIL employ  three men full time just to walk documents around to government offices and to places like the water and electric company to pay bills.  For some things, they go day after day for days just to check and prod the movement of documents from one desk to the next desk to the next desk…  Officials in Cameroon, even those workers doing ordinary things like receiving  payment on water and electric bills, stamp everything, and many papers have 4 or 5 colorful stamps on them, all with impressive looking signatures, penmanship that looks like some of those signatures found on the Declaration of Independence -  fancy writing one does not see anymore.  I was told that SIL had to finally stop using one of their authorized signers because his signature didn’t look right to the officials and they rejected documents that were signed by him. His signature was simply too readable.  I can’t imagine anyone even actually looks at a signature much in America, just as long as a scribble  is there…  Bureaucracy here is a large and lethargic business of its own, and one that defies business sense. This afflicts the business environment in both Cameroon and Congo, a legacy (I think) of French and Belgium, who I understand raised stamps and signatures and documents to an art form.

As an example, I offer a Cameroonian banking moment I witnessed two days ago. This is a cash economy. Everything here is cash, with lots and lots of papers for receipts. Not that those are worth much, for you can get a receipt for anything… But a few things can be paid by check -  a slow move into the modern banking era that has already largely been eclipsed in the West by electronic payments and debit/credit cards. Although not in the way we think of paying bills.  A few businesses will take a business check, but many only accept certified checks for payment.  This is true for paying the monthly electric bill (about $4,000 each month), although other business will take a regular check; but some will only accept cash payments.  (I have never seen the stacks and stacks of money like I have seen in Cameroon.)SIL has to obtain certified checks to make tax payments -  the government will not take cash, which is the typical  payment method for everything,  but will not allow a business or organization to pay with an ordinary check either. The process is for SIL is to obtain a certified check from the bank, and then one of these three men walk down to the government office to present payment along with the bill. The government person there takes the check and the original bill.  One can come back in about a week and pick up the receipted original bill, which is the only recognized proof of payment. (This is pretty much the process for paying anything by check. One can guess why banking is simply not catching on…) Wednesday, SIL’s biller payer person on his daily rounds at various government offices was handed an SIL certified bank check presented back in May (three months ago!), saying it has been rejected by the government.  No reason, it was just rejected. He came back and then the SIL folks – the messenger, the finance manager and the accountant – all took a ‘field trip’ to the bank. After a discussion, they with the bank officer all walked over to the government office a few blocks away to ask why it was rejected. The answer was there is no reason, and we do not have to provide one. A certified bank check for a tax payment rejected…  And it sitting on someone’s desk for months…  Ah, maybe only in Cameroon…

Oh, and by the way, checks paid to SIL as payee and deposited (which admittedly are not many in this economy, but Americans will write them to SIL  to get personal funds sometimes) must have the endorsement of the company’s authorized check signers, in SIL’s case, two executives.  And they check the signatures to make sure!  No such thing as allowing the accounts receivable person to use an endorsement stamp …



Library at  Rainforest International Academy, a 7-12 school and part of SIL

Well, this is enough for you to get a flavor of business in Cameroon.  And the government even likes SIL!   Actually I am in some awe at the work SIL does. A bunch of ‘brainiacs’ (to me at least) trained in linguistics, and other related disciplines I cannot even spell , dedicating their lives to bringing language  and literacy to people who speak heart languages that not many speak.  I read progress reports of translation projects and reading the  project deliverables -  training nationals to teach literacy classes, training nationals in the fundamentals of translation work, producing diarrhea and other health pamphlets, creating story books, and translating scripture so they can hear it within the intimacy of their own language.

I leave Africa far richer than when I came and feel very fortunate for the privilege of being here.  I hope you

Housing, or making do...

 enjoyed coming along with me.  I leave you with a few more random pictures of Africa, ones taken in and around where I am staying in Yaoundé.

 





Street scene

Street scene

 


Not all roads are paved!





 






Yaounde

 

I am already half way through my three week stay in Yaoundé. Time seems to be moving along quicker and quicker.

I arrived here last Sunday afternoon, an uneventful trip (in other words, perfect!), except for sweating out whether the Ministre de Sante official would accept a photocopy of my yellow fever vaccination document as proof of inoculation.  Ben (my son) said he told me I needed to carry the original, and on the flight from Nairobi I surely wish his words had made a bigger impression on me!  I honestly do not remember him saying that, and I found myself not sure they would let me into Cameroon. (I had not been that concerned – after all, I had to submit proof in order to even  get a visa -  until I overheard a woman in Nairobi say they have no heart, and easily turn you away at the airport if you cannot produce it.) The health officer is the first person to greet you when you get off the plane – before customs, before baggage check, before anything. And none of them smile or seem welcoming at all…  But she waived me through after checking my signatures (the vaccination document with my passport); and then I began to relax.  The SIL person was waiting for me outside the gate, holding up a sign with my name on it, and that was all the  welcoming words I needed...

Yaoundé is the capital, and I was told it would feel almost Western in comparison to Congo.  Well, almost… It certainly is more prosperous, but there is plenty of poverty, and the contrast between rich and poor seems greater, although not too many rich and very many poor.  But a few more folks in the middle I think, although my project here (a review of the accounting books) keeps me in an office all day and on a compound of sorts, interacting mostly with ex-pats, so I have not really done that much walking around.

Initially it seemed like I had been dropped into a modern place – cars, cars, many cars; car horns, car horns, many many car horns – even car alarms! I could hardly take in the bustle and activity at first. But the people are not as friendly, no one saying Bonjour as they pass by in the lyrical manor of the Congolese; they  just walk on and don’t take any notice of a ‘blanco’ walking by.  (Which is actually sort of nice.) The city is built on gently hilly terrain, picturesque when you look out over the city, as you can see by this picture taken from the SIL grounds. All the homes of any substance have walls and gates around them,

just like in Bunia, but it seems more open. I have seen Mercedes and other more upscale cars, something I never saw in Bunia, and they are not as beat up, probably because the roads are better. Main roads are paved, so not the clouds of dust either, which does make life more pleasant.  Street lights on main thoroughfares, we passed a bakery, and people were largely in Western dress, unheard of in Bunia.  (But hey, this was a French colony and the French do like their pâtisseries…)  I almost wondered if I was still in Africa.  Not that Yaoundé is probably that unusual - it speaks more to what Bunia does not

View looking out from the entrance of SIL

Nelson, Noah and Reda Anderton

have at all. They even have a grocery store not too far away from the SIL grounds, and I walked up there on my first Saturday here, and spent a pleasant hour walking the aisles to see an amazing array of products for sale. It was about the size of a very small Manhattan supermarket, but it still amazed me.  Still it was Africa, with so many different kinds of rice and tomato paste and mayonnaise for sale. But there was also chocolate on display, something I had not seen in 11 weeks.



Bob and Joan Lokker

I must be getting tired, for I kept forgetting to take my camera when I went anywhere this first week, so I have few pictures of Yaounde to post.  I went to a French church on Sunday, one I was told had a great choir, but I admit to feeling some disappointment.  The music was just fine, but after Congo, I am not sure any church singing  I hear will ever come close to the harmony and rhythm, enthusiasm and joy of Congolese singing. Last week, a missionary group here in Cameroon was holding their annual meeting at the place I am staying, and I was able to connect with two families I know.  Reda Anderton, a doctor, and her kids, who have stayed in my home in the States, and the Lokkers, the host family my son Ben stayed with for four months three years ago while he was in Cameroon. A small world, to meet these folks here in Cameroon.  I spent a wonderful first week here, connecting with them and exchanging news.

One more picture to share. One thing that is so striking about Africa is how little is wasted. Everything is used again and again until it just gives out. I was a bit startled in the grocery store, for example, to see used  liquor bottles (I mean bottles that at once held Johnnie Walker Red and Johnnie Walker Black Label) and used plastic water bottles, filled with shelled,  roasted peanuts for sale. (They eat a lot of peanuts here; peanuts are for sale everywhere.) So I thought with this picture you might better understand what I mean by recycle, and at the same time enjoy seeing this swing – made from an old truck tire.

PS. Yaoundé is 5 degrees above the equator, and about 2,000 feet above sea level. It is the coldest anyone around here much remembers, perhaps God's special gift to me.  It is in the low 70's each day - hard to believe that I went to Africa for the summer and missed almost all of the heat and humidity I would have surely experienced in the northern climes of New Jersey...

Out of Congo, into more of Africa

Wow, it has been awhile since I posted anything! I have been busy, so sorry. And I was also locked out of my Google account for the last five days. Somehow, Google had trouble believing that I could be in yet another country, now Cameroon, after Congo and Uganda. I guess all that travel for someone who has rarely left the east coast in the past few years was simply not activity to be trusted. Yes, one can reset accounts, but my American phone does not work in Africa, and I could not convince them it was me, no matter how much information I supplied. My daughter came to my rescue and reset my account in NJ for me. Somehow Google did not have any trouble believing it was me, signing in an hour later from Cameroon.

Getting my assignment wrapped up in Bunia felt like a lot of moving parts, nothing staying still, but nothing getting finished either. The last week was hectic, getting everything documented and in order so I could leave. I kept being invited to, and dropped in on by people I came to know who wanted  to say goodbye. The African culture highly values both hospitality and visitors; it was actually a bit uncomfortable how much they fussed over my leaving.  Americans are friendly, but more on the surface. It is deeper with Africans, although I also know that building a network of relationships is how they get by in their culture, one that is more focused on having resources for survival than accumulating wealth. 

 

Obedi, Jacques, and Kivera

I never got around to writing a blog on the school, but I want to include a picture of Obedi, Jacques, and Kivera (cashier), a picture of the entire accounting function (excluding only the small cashier window) -  which is about as bare bones as you can get - and also a picture of one of the Shalom buildings.  It was built by the Belgiums, and served as the club house back when the property was a country (golf) club during colonial times.  Most of the other buildings are not so grand, and this one looks better on the outside. It serves as a guesthouse for visiting professors, classrooms and the residence of Martin, the German IT guy.

 

Accounting office

Universite Shalom de Bunia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was invited (again) to Dr. Kirvere’s house for dinner just before I left. (He is the father of my translator and the rector of the nursing school in Bunia.) I sat transfixed as he talked about his feelings and experience of fleeing for his life when the Hema/Lendu conflict erupted in Nyakunde nearly ten years ago. Over 1,500 people were slaughtered; the modern 400 bed acute care hospital at which he worked and which had a reputation for serving all who came, regardless of ability to pay (a rarity),  was completely

Rose Kirvere 

destroyed, as was the entire town. He said that he still struggles with the trauma of that time in his head - citing his inability to purchase a refrigerator, a symbol of his fear of losing everything again.  I include a picture of his wife’s braided hair. I saw so many beautiful and elaborate hair braidings during my time in Bunia, but the Congolese do not like you to take pictures of them. But I felt comfortable enough to ask her, and she readily posed. Her hairdo is quite amazing, yes?

 

So what is most impressed upon my memory when I think back of my time in Bunia? 

·         The Congolese are so gentle, they speak so softly; I struggle to reconcile that with the savage tribal slaughter that has been a part of Congo’s story for the past twenty years.

·         The Congolese are very kind and welcoming. Here is a picture of the young men who came to visit and pray with me the night before I left. They stayed for over an hour and prayed

 

Moses, Emanuel, {X}, Prosper & Jonathan

over every part of the rest of my trip from finishing packing until I arrive back in the US. They told me how much they would miss me and wished I could stay longer, that they appreciated getting to know me and felt honored that I talked to them and allowed them to know me.  I know I would not have taken the time, or been as welcoming,  if they had been the visitor coming into my life in America. I was deeply touched.

·         The Congolese do not complain so much. I think a part of that is frankly a lack of hope, but I think they have also seen so much suffering, and are appreciative for just being alive and having today.  They have a joyfulness and a thankfulness about them that is attractive.

But then I was on to Uganda, for a 36 hour respite at a tourist guesthouse before flying on to Yaoundé. After 11 weeks in Bunia, the guesthouse looked like a spa to my eyes…  It was nice, comfortable, and I took a really, really long shower.  Good food too, my first taste of goat, which I found very tasty, carnivore that I am.  Here is a picture of the guesthouse, and the road leading to it. Lots of pretty flowers, and interesting flora and fauna. Contrast that to a typical street scene in Bunia.


Airport Guesthouse

Flowers!

Fauna!



Bunia street

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And English, English spoken everywhere.  Lovely accented African English, and I could understand everything that was said. Of course African English can sometimes appear a bit humorous to an American English speaker. I took a picture of this sign, and wondered if they meant to advertise that the restaurant was ugly inside, or just nice and cozy.

After passing through Nairobi airport (thankfully before the fire destroyed the international arrivals terminal), I am now here in Yaoundé, working my way through a very long review guide document.  But I will save Yaoundé for my next blog, now that I am back in my (writing ) groove.