Research and Culture

Since I last blogged I have completed all my field research for my project, analyzed all my data, and have begun writing the paper.
    Last Tuesday was probably my favorite day of field research and also, as usual, an incredibly interesting cultural experience. I met up with Loppa, my translator, at 8:30 and quickly learned that all of our planned rendez-vous were cancelled. I was worried. We still had quite a few surveys and interviews to be completed and no one to see! Loppa reassured me that she had an idea. She said that she can feel people’s vibes really well and we were just going to walk around the streets close to my house a look for people who she felt would either be polygamous, know polygamous families, or in some way be open to help us. I was skeptical, but nevertheless, the first man we spoke to pointed us in the direction of a polygamous family about a block away! Okay, I thought, that was lucky, but how do we get in to talk to these people? We aren’t very well just going to walk into a family we do not know’s compound, right? Wrong. We do. Loppa calls out a greeting in Fulfulde and a few children greet us first. In what very little Fulfulde I know, I understand that she asks them to take us to their mother, which they do. We bend down to talk to the women (a sign of respect when talking to elders) and Loppa explains what we are doing. I’m lost with the Fulfulde and am begging for a French translation, but it isn’t needed. I understand that we are more than welcome when we go into the first wive’s house and she feeds us rice, beans and tea. Loppa tells me to get out my notebook. I was shocked at the hospitality! I just kept thinking, this would never happen in America! We ended up talking to two wives, four children and the husband all in one visit.
    Not knowing where to go next, the family pointed us to another family just down the road. One of the sons, in his 30s, walked us there. He also chose that moment to ask me and Loppa to become his second and third wives. When we laughed, he said, in all seriousness, what, you two get along well already, there will be no problems. We thanked him for the offer and quickly went in to the next home-- again, unannounced and guided to our subject by small children.
    For the last two days of my research, this was our routine. I couldn’t help but laugh every time we barged into a new home. Thank goodness for Cameroonian hospitality I told myself.
    Because Loppa had to take a few days off during the week (she was defending her Master’s thesis proposal) I had time to transcribe the final interviews and organize my work. Friday was my last day her, we finished around noon with a total of 43 surveys and 9 interviews completed. Since then I have been working on analyzing, coding, and organizing information. At this moment I have 13 of the 35-45 page page completed, all in French. I hope to have a first draft for Professor Taguem by Saturday.
    Besides working I have been able to run every morning which pleases me. Often I go with Margo, and if we miss a day, when I’m in town later, shop owners ask me why I didn’t “faire du sport” that morning. As you can imagine, there aren’t many 5 foot white girls with braids down to their waist running in Ngaoundéré.
    Actually being known in the town as the runner-girl has its advantages. I have gotten hollered at a lot less. It is really common here for men to yell out “la blanche” or in Fulfulde “Nassarra” both of which mean, white girl, and make extremely loud kissing noises. Children here also yell Nassarra incessantly until you wave. Most frequently we ignore the cat-calls. I try to tune them out. Occasionally I’ll give a slight smile or wave, but I really try not to encourage their behavior. I know they really mean no harm, they are just curious and also boys here are raised to be persistent with women, it is however extremely tiring. Some of the male Peace Corps volunteers tell us that they just yell back “le noir” and the Cameroonian laughs; I don’t try it.
    Also, I don’t think I have yet, and I’d love to paint a picture of how taking a taxi works in Cameroon. Like I’ve maybe mentioned, people in Ngaoundéré take motos much more frequently, but in Yaoundé taxis are the primary source of transportation. So, imagine a line of people waiting on the curb, all with one arm pointing out (the equivalent of a thumb up in the air). A taxi slows down to a crawl as he passes the line of people. As he passes you, you yell out where you want to go and how much you’ll pay. You don’t however have to yell out a price if it’s a normal distance (we’ve never known exactly what this distance is, but within at 10 or 15 drive) because it is assumed that you’ll pay 200 CFA or 40 cents. If you’re traveling a short distance you might yell “100 francs” or if you prefer the driver take you and stop for no one else you say “depot” and pay 1,500 CFA, $3. Anyway, if the driver is heading in the same direction as you shout from the street he beeps his horn, stops and you jump in. The system works out really well, except you can be stuck on that curb for quite awhile if your destination isn’t a popular one.
    Anyway- that’s some of the daily life here. In other news, the mosquitoes have come out with a vengeance recently. I’m covered in bug bites just from sitting in my room or the family room working or reading at night despite wearing spray and promethium soaked shirts. I always sleep in my mosquito tent, but I can’t very well live there. My host mother showed me her technique for getting of the mosquitoes in the living room; she violently whips her head-covering clothe around in the air for a few minutes each night. While I think I’ll stick to my technique, hers was highly entertaining for the whole family to watch. Tonight there were even tons of itsy bitsy spiders that were all over the couch I was sitting on in the living room; I still feel them crawling on me even though I showered. I rather have bugs though; my friend Margo’s room has become home to many mice friends.
    On the bright side- along with my plantain lady, I have made friends with the woman who sell peanuts for 10 cents. I hardly eat any meat here so I have made them my protein source. She’ll give me an extra handful of peanuts once in a while too! So with my peanut lady and my plantain lady combined I can get a pretty sizable snack for 30 cents each day!
    I’m wishing you all a very happy Thanksgiving! There are so many things that I realize each day I am so very thankful for.