Monday- April 6^th:  It’s Monday evening after day one of our second class session. So two Cameroonians, a Nigerian and a white guy walk into a bar…. There’s no punch line, we just walked into a bar. Well, not really a bar but a balcony restaurant overlooking the teeming highway. It’s really an experience to be in Mutengene doing as the locals would do, not ferried around by a guide in an air conditioned vehicle. I bought the group some drinks. Not cold, but room temperature, which means 85 degrees here. I listen hard to their mix of pidgin and English and my ears are finally starting to catch up as is my fake Cameroonian accent. Miraculously it helps them understand me. It’s easy enough to imitate the way someone talks as long as it’s not truly another language. I’m sure I sound like an idiot but it’s fun to try. Even passing at almost highway speeds and with me a story above the street, people in cars and motorcycles pick me out and stare at me like my head is on fire. It’s so funny. I just wave and cope with the fact that they could see me from space probably. I guess they’re honest enough to stare.

The Nigerian in the story is a Malaysian and Kenyan University trained dermatologist. He is in town staying at our training center and working shifts at the local hospital to teach the other docs how to treat the myriad, exotic skin conditions that exist in this country. I have one of those conditions currently. My itchy eyes developed welts and blisters across my eyelids and corners. Dr. John from Nigeria told me I am having an environmental allergic reaction and that he will go to the laboratory and make a cream to fix it. I haven’t seen the cream yet but I have cortisone and Benadryl which is working. I complained to the Welty’s about some small bites I was finding in the morning upon waking. They diagnosed it as bed bugs. Not uncommon here, especially in transitory housing like ours. There isn’t a night these beds aren’t used. They have a full house keeping staff that keeps us comfortable with clean towels, sheets and pesticide. I sprayed everything down, moved rooms then did laundry in scalding hot water followed by ironing. Then I sprayed down the whole closet and new bed with deet. I’m told that will do the trick. So far so good. They don’t have good enough electrical current to operate dryers here so they are non-existent. You have to hang your clothes outside (tricky in rainy season) then iron them. They iron everything- socks, underwear, everything. The ironing kills the fly larvae that are deposited on line-dried materials. The larvae burrow into an unsuspecting wearers skin then have to be extracted later.

 



Common form of mass transit. We taught a session on triage for highway accidents for this reason.



 

4.6% national HIV/Aids rate. Huge public awareness and education has dropped this from over 10% with less transmission to newborns.



Morning arrives too soon as we prepare for the second class to begin. This time we have the assistance of Manjong Denis, a driver who we are proctoring to be a future trainer. It’s good he’s here because it’s hard for the students to understand our dialect and, it turns out, 30 drivers decided to show up instead of the 15 we requested. So Cameroon is the largest American thrift store on the planet. The streets and markets are replete with make-shift booths hocking used slogan T-shirts and interpretations of what we would wear at home. It is so awesome. I laugh out loud every day at some of the stuff I see. I was talking to Gilles, a housekeeper, who was wearing a vintage Public Enemy shirt. I asked if he was a “supporter” of the group and he just laughed uncomfortably while pointing to his black t-shirt repeating “pooblik inime, pooblik inime.” No clue. The best was when Denis arrived big and proud to be a trainer of his peers. He was looking sharp and important in his ironed, bedazzled jeans and a khaki sport jacket opened just to proudly display his black and chrome emblazoned t-shirt proclaiming “World’s Greatest Mom.” I couldn’t suppress laughing out loud then I tried to convince him that I was impressed with his “dress.”

Denis, I'm sure you would be the World's Greatest Mom. Miss you already!

I'm not following the connection?

 



Denis is a natural teacher though he was a bit overzealous, immediately straying off of the subject matter in his PowerPoint and launching into the entire point of the course. I had to interrupt his lecture to reign in his genuine enthusiasm. He did his very best but we ended up two hours behind schedule which compressed day two and allowed less time for hands-on practice. I was guilty of the same disregard of schedule though. 

 



Invite 15, you get 30!



 



Slow down Denis, it's just the intro! A natural born teacher.
 



Old hat for Paul. He has been here two weeks longer than I and taught trauma care to nurses in Bamenda, a town to the northwest. He's also done this twice in Haiti.

 

 



My solution to the question "what if your vehicle doesn't have seatbelts?" I give you, the Cameroonian seatbelt!



 

That evening, Professor Pius Tih Muffih, the director of the entirety of the vast CBC Health Services, arrived at the Welty house to stay and work with them. It’s a big deal that Pius is here. Even the Governor of the Southwestern province we are in comes to pay his respects to Prof Tih, as he is known here. He is the godfather. Dr. John the dermatologist and the head driver, Edwin came with Pius. Paul and I were summoned to meet Prof so we of course hurried to house five. Pius is immediately recognized as a humble man with amazing charisma and oozing leadership. I liked him straight away. He graciously accepted my thanks for his invitation to Cameroon which landed me a Visa in four days flat. Edwin, Dr. John, Denis and I headed to the Baptist hospital in Mutengene to run an errand then found our way to the previously mentioned restaurant. I had a late supper at the compound with Benadryl for dessert.

 



Housekeeper, Gilles, unloading Pius' supply of papas or papaya. He has a Public Enemy t-shirt.
 



Nicoline's (right) cousin, in the yellow, is a tailor. We walked by her shop/house in Mutengene on the way to the hospital and met her and her understudies. Nicoline has her cloth made into dresses by her cousin for 3500 cfa or around $6. If tailors can barter to keep any trimmings of fabric they can make clothes and sell them for extra money.





Baptist Hospital Mutengene. Dr. Ndasi's surgical theatre is in the new building on the right. They see frequent cases of measles encephalitis, polio, malaria, etc. and have public education campaigns on getting children vaccinations. Just think, it's a luxury here. A 4 year old of one of the drivers died today of sudden, unknown causes. He took the child's body and drove 8 hours to Bamenda so his family could mourn and have a burial. I've seen many people who are suffering from polio-related handicaps - something I never thought I would see.

 



Tuesday, April 7^th: We opened class this morning with a prayer as we do every day. The students are again electric about their new skills and anticipation of practicing on each other. Denis is ready to teach bleeding control and shock management wearing his freshly minted McCall Fire Department t-shirt, a downgrade from his mother’s day proclamation. We are told that our class made it on the local news with footage and our unscheduled interview. People in town are expressing interest in attending the class but 30 is double our limit and practical skills lab is impossible with all of Mutengene in the room. We get back on schedule; have some sage words from Dr. Ndasi then proceed with a more well-organized graduation. Because we don’t have thirty 1^st Aid Kits to distribute, the battle began over which driver was the more deserving candidate for the tarp roll and coveted headlamp. We left this to Dr. Ndasi.

 

 

 

Hilda and Nicoline practicing in traditional African "dress." The fabrics here are fun to see.

 





My driver from the airport, Stephen. They were then instructed not to wrap this way.



 

We call this the "ski patrol lift." Having no idea what ski patrol is, I renamed it the basket lift.

 



 



skills practice day 2



 

 

Wednesday, April 8^th: After a rather American breaky of pancakes with maple syrup, papaya and coffee, Paul and I hitch a ride with Edwin to Beau, the gateway town to Mt. Cameroon. We climb 1800 ft in elevation and find the town cool and refreshing with a large and reputable university. The mountain looms over the town and its Palatial President’s “cabin” like an Emperor Penguin protecting its egg on its feet. On the other side of the mountain from this town there are a sparse few mountain elephants and likely a group of gorillas hidden in its impressive bulk. We make a quick drive around the loop road at the highest part of the town to take in the view then head to the hospital to pick up six people, including the Weltys and Pius, from the hospital. They were cleaning house of a few bad staff doctors and nurses extorting patients for money. We made a quick stop at the ecotourism office to get information on guided climbs on the mountain. A day trek to Hut Two is around $40 US. There is a marathon from Beau to the top and back, just over 24 miles with over 9000 ft of elevation gain. It happens the second week of February and costs $16 to enter. Bucket list! A woman won the race something like five years straight and the government built her a new house for her final victory.

 

 

 Upon returning to the complex, Paul and I had lunch with Pius teasing me about my inability to eat “pepe.” We kidnapped Gladys from the kitchen for an hour to hit the big market in Mutengene for some souvenirs. That night we were invited to Dr. Ndasi’s personal residence for dinner. I was expecting to drive into Limbe, the beach town where he was rumored to live, but instead we turned just off the squalor of highway at mile four, a local landmark and roadside marketplace. We opened a gate manually and pulled up to a very humble rental flat with a dirt parking area and found Dr. Ndasi eagerly awaiting our arrival. We were welcomed to his leather couches in a nicely appointed but humble house. His wife, Olivia, sister, Ken, and three boys; Jason, Ethan and Allan were raucously playing and enjoying Pius’ company. African top-40 was playing in the background and a lavish spread was laid out on the table. Rice, bread, ndole with beef hide, fish, chicken, spicy white beans and fresh avocado and tomato salad with dressing were heaped on plates. Henry’s wife and children visited each of us on the couch with a pitcher of water, spray bottle of soap and a bowl. They poured water while we washed and their middle son offered us towels. Such servitude. While eating, Henry refilled our glasses with Coca Cola “for the Americans.” Dessert was the best fruit salad ever made in crystal cocktail goblets. Classy guy that Henry Ndasi.

 

 



The WAY overworked kitchen and housekeeping staff. Left to right: Nicoline (course logistics), Erica (background), Gladys (kitchen supervisor), Annette (who Sailor chatted with on Facetime)



Annette chopping okomobong leaves for ndole.



 

 

Fellow Seahawker



It's a good thing I like fish



Sailor's bracelets were a popular graduation token. Red for unity, yellow for savannahs of the North and Green for the forests of the South.

Beau (pronounced boy-ah) and Mt. Cameroon

I laughed about this one. They have some crazy names for their businesses!

The FBI has dispatched a lot of agents in Cameroon apparently.

The Obama Restaurant with American and Cameroonian flags on the sign.

This is why they don't let people hike or run Mt. Cameroon without a guide. 10 ft. high elephant grass obscures the "trail."







 

Don't let them tell you they're not hot! Pepe in Mutengene market.

Fast and the Furious garage, Cameroonian style. Looks stable enough I guess.

View of Mt. Cameroon on the Limbe road to Dr. Ndasi's.

View from his porch

Washing Professor Tih's hands before our generous dinner with the Ndassis. Ethan (left), Jason and Henry's sister Ken.