Meat Sticks and Madness

This is a photo of me and a guy selling illegal bushmeat
right in front of the bar we were sitting at… down the street from the
centre climatique (where we have school).


Making compost at the Riba center. You cut branches
from leguminous trees and then incorporate… or something like that.


This is where he keeps a lot of his collection… note the
thatch roof. Not the greatest for preservation.



In one of the art storage rooms, whole group. I am
between the doctor and his friend.




Salut!

Last weekend of training, having a great time. Last night we went to a guy’s house to eat dinner… or at least we thought we were going to eat dinner. We met the guy at the Library and I ate few pieces of pork off their steaming communal plate (and was fairly sick the next day). This interaction turned into an invite… and so we went to this doctor’s huge mansion in Bafoussam at L’entrée de la Ville.

It wasn’t a dinner, but he had a few cases of beer and a whoooooole lot of African art. So we had a beer and looked at his art. Unbelievable… storage rooms with just stacks and stacks of collection… wood, brass, sculptures, masks, stinkin’ art made with insect wings, huge snake & alligators skins…. All just collecting dust on the mildew-y floor. Luckily, we have some art enthusiasts (n’est-ce pas?) among us who are going to help the guy get some climate control. The whole house was right out of Great Expectations (check out the picture of Pip… I mean, Matt… smoking on the staircase that led to a big balcony). It was overrun with vines, the walls were crumbling and there were cobwebs all over everything. It was fantastic. It was a great time. Had such a good time, were going back for dinner on Tuesday.

Afterward, we went to find some meat sticks on the side of the road outside of Bafoussam. Ridiculous. Eating goat in a dugout bar, dipping Alex’s pieces in peimont powder and watching him sweat. Laughing as he tilts his water back, trying to ease the numbing fire. Mwhahaha. Was I just holding onto a 150-year-old oil cask kept in the closet of a chief? I think so. Spitting on the side of the road because of the peimont. Get in the cab and go back to Bandjoun, listening to Benny talk about how his mouth is on fire. Can’t get back in my house because everyone is sleeping… wake up my aunt by tapping on the window. “C’est QUI?” “C’est moi! C’est Kelsey.” Laughed myself to sleep… quite an adventure. Quite a night.

Pray that I will pass my language exam and wont have to stay here in Bandjoun. Monday morning! Enjoy the photos.