Leki and Cozai: The North
November 5, 2008
Kim and I traveled to the North of Cameroon. On a bus we shoved ourselves into a back seat [side note: we were less tight because the people up north are skinny not like the "fat mommies" down south where 5 people on a bus bench is no easy feat] with our knees digging into the seat where we noticed grafitti. Grafitti is rare here mostly because people don’t have Sharpi markers and aren’t going to pay for spray paint. But they can carve into fake leather! Yeehaw! So I took the name placard of “Leki” and Kim was “Cozai” for the rest of the trip.
One of my favorite things about the north is the music. Down south we get TONS of pelvic-thrusting Macossa but the north has more… mousy-sounding music. And I love it. I can’t really tell the difference between Fulfulde (a language) music and Hausa (a tribe) music but I like them both.
We stumbled upon (this is how most of my encounters happen) a voodoo market. Perhaps volunteers in the north would actually call this more of a traditional supply area… but for my purposes, it will be a locality of sorcery. It was a few stands by the road where I COULD have purchased:
1. Variety of crazy seeds
2. Piles of dried herbs
3. Porcupine needles
4. Goat/sheep horns
5. Metal needles
6. Dried bird feet (about a foot and a half long)
7. Dried small animal skins
8. Dried mouse
9. Dried chameleon head
Although not as intense as Mexico City’s black magic market, it was a nice little trip into the fantastic.
General Observations about Northern Cameroon (if you know the north, this isn’t exciting)
* As my first trip into a desert climate, I was shocked as we took motos in and out of the shade – like furnaces being turned on and off. And the sweat just evaporating off your body, which leads me to…
* The lack of smells. I’m a smell-oriented person and the south is full of distinct smells: the night blossoms that waft throughout the university at night, sweaty men in taxis, and palm oil. But the north is so dry that even the piles of dried flesh (either meat or leather) don’t really have an odor… but bring that leather back down south and the humidity sets right in.
* The change in landscape. (Really, Jess?) But really, as Kim and I took the train up, we kept anxiously looking out the window (pretty much from the moment we got on – “Shouldn’t it be different and magical already? Why is it still jungle?”) to see the mountains appear and the land go dry. Eventually scrubby brush started to appear and things went brown.
* The language differences. I forgot what it was like to constantly be surrounded by a language that you can’t understand a bit of. I met a lot of people that couldn’t speak French, English, or Pidgin to me beyond maybe basic bargaining. It’s all Fulfulde or dialects.
* Lack of bargaining! What!!? Cameroon is MADE for discussing prices. But northerns make fun of me, calling me Chinese (who are apparently solid business folks) or Bamileke, a tribe from the West province who understand the need to bargain. Frustrating. Simply frustrating.
