I done chop Christmas for dey.

This was our last stop on Christmas night. Shey Dennis bought us a good amount of beer. It was cold and dark and people were dancing with this aluminum casted Jesus.




This was the second or third finisher in the Nseh footrace. The hill was very slippery with dry grass... I fell repeatedly. Some of the runners don't have shoes. It's almost a marathon... with this mountain as the finish.




This is one of many children that painted themselves and put together ragamuffin flags and cheered for every runner that topped the mountain. It made me want to run up a mountain.




Sort of reminded me of Mad Max or Lord of the Flies. They made fun of me while i slipped down the hill in my skirt and flip flops.




Reese was a bit unhappy with these new jujus. He said they just didn't seem angry enough. They wiggled their hips a lot. I liked them.





This was a juju that apparently had to crawl from the palace (far). Old Pas pretend to kill it.




A member of the palace approached Reese with a spear and me with a cutlass during their dance. You have to dance. The Nsehites went wild with my around the world cutlass swing.





They wrapped the Fon's new Rav4 in banana leaves and then shot guns over it. When I finance my first car back in the states, I hope the dealership will do the same... especially since I am Mother of the People of Bafut.



translation... I ate the Christmas there. People like to ask how you ate Christmas.

Had a fun(ny) Christmas with Reese in his village of Nseh. We celebrated the "EX MAAS" by making pumpkin bread and egg strata in the morning, then walking up and down the village. You couldn't walk 20 yards without someone demanding you come in and eat and take a beer. Full is the word I would use to explain the day. Someone gave Reese some yams and I got an orange pop from his toothy neighbor, Mr. Wome Wilfred. I was really hoping the lights in Reese's house would be magically turned on on Christmas morning... but it really would have had to been magical. The wires aren't attached yet.

The 26th ("Madame? How do you see the 26th???") was the Nseh Annual Festival. Lots of sitting and eating fried things (no scotch eggs, much to my dismay) and watching dances and jujus and a football match and more eating and lots of Fon talking. It was really nice (only dat cold be too much for dey). They gave the Fon a car, I danced ridiculously with a cutlass and there was a 30 kilometer foot race that was quite amazing. The annual meeting of Nseh's development committee the next day was a little long winded, but it was worth it to see 400 people fight over fufu corn, njama njama and palm wine upon its completion.

Christmas Blog

Reese at his late friend Francis' house. They raided the grandfathers bucket-o-guavas when we got up to greet Francis' widow.





Reese's friend Eugene had us over to his house for fufu corn and njama njama, and then for a cup of corn beer. Very nice guy... laughs like Darth Vader, but he's very small.





Ridiculous shot of some of the guys that are supposed to "protect me" in the newest Black Vampire film. The guy on the far left is particularly ridiculous... our Producer, Emmanuel. He likes to give hugs.





Shooting Reese and his film girlfriend in my living room. Reese's lines include, "I love you too too much." She ate all my olives and spit the pits on the floor.





Filming at the funeral parlor... Reese's friend Nukwa, Me and Matt... I picked out Matt's sweater.





Matt takes a break from lying in his coffin to smoke a cigarette. In a bit of a drunken scene later on, he pulled the fake nails off in a rage. It was quite a night.







The Fon of Bafut doesn't eat with others... only drinks.










They sold these shirts on the day of the annual dance. We all bought them... Reese put his on first, officially. Bu i'm sure he wanted to match. That is one profoundly happy birthday boy.






Cute. At the Abin Festival.









We speculated this was some sort of iceskater princess juju. He wandered around between the dancers holding his briefcase? I don't know.







These old men were approaching the Fon with their small band of fifes and drums. They later approached us and drunkenly demnanded monetary dash. Alas, white men who live behind the palace don't carry cash.







Reese and Ally pause in the inner palace doorway. This was the beginning of a two-hour wait for a plate of rice. We got to hang out with two swiss ladies eager to know why we were still sitting and waiting.




Well, Christmas is upon us in Cameroon. It has been quite a different season this time around. I’m not watching people blow up and exposing myself to HIV, for instance. I’m also not alone in an un-electrified three-room house, sans plumbing and in the hills. I have a refrigerator… and am therefore able to make, chill and eat cookie dough containing enormous amounts of butter.

Lots has happened and not happened all at once. I hurt my leg, and went on a lot of antibiotics. Having no stomach bacteria for around two weeks (I believe) made me susceptible to the evil protozoa and tiny wiggly things that originate in African’s caca and make Americans miserably sick (of course both doctors I saw believe that I have normal digestion… I would like to see their poo. I take that back.). I think I just got over that. So, there has been a lot of lying in bed, moaning and begging people to fetch me things. When you’re sick, people like to bring you the local food… even though the spicy yellow soup that accompanies pounded cocoyams is exactly what the protozoas want.

Physical ailments aside, things have been fun. I spent about two weeks in the Banso/Donga-Mantung areas, breathing in the crisp night air and experiencing the excitement of civil unrest. Ally’s town (under 10 kilometers on back roads from Reese’s house in Nseh) was under control of the Army because crazed Cameroon Tea Estate workers had blocked all roads to Ndu. They were demanding that their back pay be… well, paid. Both the army and the crazed laborers are bad things, three people were shot (one died) and Reese and I had reconnaissance and rescue all planned out. I trekked to Ally’s a few days later when a ride home fell through, and everything seemed just fine… mostly just talk (it also gave her a reason to spend a few nights with missionaries and enjoy their American amenities… leather couches, satellite TV, hot water, nice mattresses).

After returning to Nseh I was able to sit-in (sitting was about it… it was the beginning of my gastronomic impiety) on the cane rat training Reese had planned with my counterpart, Walters (Walters is the guy that slapped me on the butt and asked if I would be his forth wife). The villagers were truly excited and it seemed that after the initial planning, Reese had to do nothing but sit back, drink some corn beer and watch it all unfold. They built cages and discussed rat genitalia… soon there’ll be a booming rat market in Nseh (our late program director, George Yebit, would often tell villagers that their rat business will really take root when Americans catch wind of the delicacy that is cane rat… Oh, George). I’m planning similar trainings in my own area.

On the 15th we began to film for Black Vampire 2. Reese comes back as a “power drunk white,” as the script says. I am a nervous, unconfident half-vampire… they wont let me shoot any guns. Matt plays himself (only his name is Martin). He’s moody and drunk. It’s all very inappropriate. Very fun… until they come to my house and stay until past 11pm. Fifteen or so Cameroonians dressed like mobsters and whores, 500-watt stage lights setting my dinner table on fire and innumerable shots of muscles in tight black t-shirts and guys gets to be a little too meaningless in the late hours.

We had a party to celebrate Reese’s birthday on the 16th, inviting some of our Cameroonian friends from town and Matt. I held down two chickens and felt their lives fade in my hands as Reese sawed into their necks… first time that’s happened.

Then came the Abin festival. I’m not sure exactly what the Abin festival means or is… it is also called the “Bafut Annual Dance.” Pretty much the day went as follows… Get dressed up, eat, drink, guns, guns, drink, guns, drink, drink, guns, dance in a huge circle, drink, eat, drink, go home. Maybe throw a few more guns in there and you’ll have it. To personalize, add bake a cake and wear paper pirate hats to celebrate a birthday.

I don’t even know if this sounds like I’ve been doing anything at all. And in actuality, I spend a lot of time reading National Geographics that the post office mistakenly gave to me thinking I was a different volunteer, trying to bake bread and phone texting my friends in the NW province. It’s a nice time. Hope everyone stays healthy (not with dysentery) and safe for the Holidays. Eat a lot of sour cream for me… and cheese in general. Merry Christmas from Bafut!