Away from Africa

Razia Said: Save Madagascar's natural bounty!

2012-01-22T18:52:00.001-05:00

Follow-up on the October 2011 blog post about Razia Said:

Ranomafana rainforest (photo from Razia's Facebook album)

Since the concert in Madagascar this past summer, Razia Said has continued her efforts to end the plundering of natural resources in Madagascar. The truth is that natural resources are being stripped in many parts of the world. Deforestation has already happened in the United States. However, the effects in an island such as Madagascar are devastating.

A wonderful video is available on YouTube: Something is Moving in the Forest, including scenes from the Mifohaza Masoala concert. The next scheduled concert is in October 2012.

Razia Said singing in New York City (photo by Diane Chehab)

Razia Said's Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/raziasaid.official

Website: www.raziasaid.com

All for Africa NYC Marathon dinner event

2011-11-03T19:44:00.002-04:00

Diane selling raffle tickets

Through a post by David Kuranga in the LinkedIn group VC4Africa.biz, I heard about a dinner/fundraiser for All For Africa (AFA), with a group of AFA runners scheduled to participate in the ING New York City Marathon on November 6.

Murray and Sandra, running on Nov. 6

I met Diane L. MacDonald, Director of Operations, and Jon Keim, AFA. Diane explained AFA’s mission to the attendees: to collaborate with the private sector to create sustainable businesses, especially in agriculture.

It was impossible to meet everybody, as the small room at Nomad Restaurant was very crowded. My table, however, was quite representative, with a mix of national origins and ethnicities, among which: Benoit Reinards, a Belgian; Murray McGregor, on his 22^nd marathon, who flew in from South Africa; Sandra Vu, a graduate student at NYU, whose parents immigrated from Vietnam; and Benjamin Afrifa, who hails originally from Ghana. All four are planning to run in the marathon.

Nomad Restaurant décor

At other tables, I met people from Ivory Coast, an actor named Gbenga Akinnagbe (of “the Wire” fame), and a few more.

Good luck to the runners, it’s for a worthy cause!

This is the team list link. There's still time to make a pledge!

Razia Said, musician and activist from Madagascar

2011-10-02T16:27:00.003-04:00

Razia Said

Razia Said's CD, Zebu Nation was created to raise awareness and benefit the preservation of the rainforest in her native Madagascar, specifically the region to the northeast known as MaMaBay (area comprised of the Masaola and Makira forests, and the Antogil Bay). This region is protected through a WCS (Wildlife Conservation Society) initiative, and several WCS team members were at the launch, including Lisa Gaylord, Country Director for WCS/Madagascar, who oversees WCS’s program activities in MaMaBay.

New Yorkers and visitors to New York may know the incredible Madagascar! exhibit at the Bronx Zoo, inaugurated in 2008, in the former Lion House. The exhibit features an incredible mix of Madagascar endemic flora and fauna such as the ring-tailed lemur, radiated tortoise, giant crocodile and a unique mammal, the fossa. Madagascar is one of the most ecologically diverse places on earth, and some animals can only be found there. Lemurs, for example, are primates found only on Madagascar and the Comoro Islands off the coast of East Africa. Unfortunately, over the years, deforestation has been intense and WCS is trying to preserve at least some of what is left.

Zebu Nation CD cover

Razia Said was born in Madagascar; she left at the age of 11, and attended school in Gabon (West Africa) and France. She started singing at the age of three. However, before becoming a full-time musician, Razia obtained a doctorate in Pharmacology, and worked in fashion. modeling, and acting, in France, Italy, Spain and Indonesia. Her first recorded songs were in an R&B/Jazz/Pop style, in English. During a family visit to her family in Madagascar, in the MaMaBay region, she met with members of Njava, a locally renowned band, and embarked on the path of using her native rhythms and instruments, and singing in her native language. While recording in the island, she noted the environmental damage occurring in Madagascar, because of climate change and the "slash and burn" style of agriculture. One of the songs in Zebu Nation, "OMama" is in tribute to her grandmother. In Razia's words: "The whole world needs to know and help;it's a common cause to the planet considering Madagascar represents 1% of the world's biodiversity."

Currently, Razia is once again in Madagascar as one of the organizers of a concert promoting a message against illegal logging. Ebony and rosewood are the most popular species that are stolen.

Razia currently lives with her spouse, Jamie Ambler, in Harlem, New York City.

Notes: Listen to songs and see photos of Razia in Madagascar, along with Malagasy musicians, at www.raziasaid.com. You can hear a sample of Yo Yo Yo here.

Razia Said is on Facebook.

Other members of the WCS team present at the launch were Edith McBean, WCS Board Member, Helen Crowley, former WCS/Madagascar Country Director, and Caleb McClennen.

Contemporary African Art Gallery, New York

2011-09-25T15:49:00.001-04:00

The words "modern" and "African art" are rarely used together. African art as usually identified as traditional art: sculpted masks, statues, in the same style they were done for hundreds of years.

One of the galleries attempting to change this is the Contemporary African Art Gallery in Manhattan, New York City. Founder Bill Karg is an architect, and he lived and worked for over five years in Africa, working on low-income self-built housing, as a consultant for various organizations, such as USAID, the United Nations, the World Bank, and various African governments.

El Anatsui wall hanging

While he was in Africa, he started collecting the work of contemporary local artists, and in doing so, met them and learned about their work. He realized that many were well-known, well-collected, and often shown in Europe but were virtually unknown in the United States. Karg felt that this situation needed to change, and this was the main motivation for the creation of a gallery specialized in the work of contemporary African artists.

Karg and his spouse purchased a house large enough to house a gallery on 108th Street in Manhattan. The Kargs moved to their new home and had the inaugural exhibit 2 weeks after the 1987 stock market crash. The first type of art shown was 3-dimensional art: sculpture. The gallery collection expanded from there to include all fine art forms, including installation work. Karg has been careful to only show what is generally recognized as "fine art" as opposed to "curio art." This sometimes posed difficulty, as the art is generally more abstract and less evidently about Africa. The requirements to which Karg carefully adheres to be able to say with confidence that the artists and the work are African are the following:

- The artist has to have been born in Africa

- The artist’s work has to be inspired by Africa; this is usually determined after conversations with the artist.

- Karg must like the work!

Viye Diba: Kangaroo in Suspension

These requirements have been met in all shows.

Who are the clientele? Their numbers have consistently grown from a small base of people who had a connection with Africa, having worked, lived, or traveled to the continent; to a far broader base, including museums: the gallery has sold to nine different museums and many of them are repeat collectors.

Collectors within and outside, but especially outside New York, have found the gallery through its website. This has been especially true for European collectors. The website started out as a sampler of the work shown in the gallery. Three years ago, Karg invested in having all work, including his own extensive personal collection, professionally photographed, with links to all countries represented, all artists and all of their work. Some sold items may also be listed, albeit without the identity of the buyer. Collectors are now found in the United Kingdom, France (former colonial powers whose people are often knowledgeable about the artists from their former territories), and Denmark and the Netherlands.

The Gallery currently represents over 30 artists from Senegal, Ghana, Nigeria, Ivory Coast, Kenya, Ethiopia, Sudan (Khartoum happens to boast an excellent arts school at the university), Zimbabwe, Namibia, Mozambique, and South Africa.

For Karg, another important motivation is to show a positive and creative aspect of the African continent, aspects rarely discussed in the United States.

The question often asked is: are these artists "African artists," or “contemporary international artists”? The issue for Karg is that if these artists were placed on an already very long list of international contemporary artists,Africa would once again be marginalized. However, if shown as African artists or as coming from a specific country, the gallery can bring credit where credit is due, to a region and to the artist; thus the identity of the gallery as an African contemporary art gallery.

Gallery interior view

Galleries such as the Contemporary African Art Gallery are ground-breaking insofar as for many people, even people who know Africa, "contemporary" and "African" do not go together. Many would prefer to continue exploiting often fake "antiques," while Western designers and artists continue taking inspiration from Africa for modern design, art, music and fashion. It is good news that this gallery is expanding its audience, year by year.

Note: this blog post was originally published in SoSauce.com. More photos can be seen at http://www.sosauce.com/album/9942/contemporary-african-art-gallery/

Watching football on TV - what would Cameroonians eat?

2011-08-02T21:14:00.000-04:00

For a football-watching party, Cameroonian-style, the foods that would be offered are:

- boiled peanuts
- grilled peanuts

-grilled corn on the cob

- grilled or boiled “prunes” - these are fruits that are savory rather than sweet, and as far as I know do not exist anywhere else than in tropical Africa. They do not travel well. You can now find them, for a high price, in Parisian African markets, but not in the United States, as far as I know.

- fried plantain slices, and/or plantain chips

- fried fish and/or spicy grilled fish

- fried chicken feet

- skewered beef, spiced with hot ground pepper (called “soya”)

- Corn flour and banana fritters

And of course: Maggi™ along with (very) hot sauce made from Scotch bonnet peppers.

Photos of some of these foods can be seen at MyWeku.com.

Vickie Frémont, New York - Update

2011-07-31T20:44:00.002-04:00

Since the October 2010 post about Vickie Frémont, jewelry designer and recycling artist of Cameroonian descent, much has happened. The blog post caught the attention of Columbia's Alliance Française, which took interest in her recycling work, as a sustainability conference was being hosted in Bogota; she has been invited for a residency in Peru in the fall. In the meantime, she exhibited at several fairs, including the Bastille Festival in New York City in July.
In the meantime, here are a few photos of her jewelry, modeled by Myriam Maxo, a designer herself, of Caribbean descent.

Fundraiser and art show at Casa Frela, NYC

2011-05-21T21:01:00.000-04:00

Genita Ingram
greeting a guest

My friend Genita Ingram, PR professional extraordinaire, invited me to a fundraiser for Project Enterprise on Tuesday, May 17, at Casa Frela, an art gallery in New York City, at 47 West 119th Street.
It was a very nice event to raise funds for a nonprofit that provides entrepreneurs in under-served areas with loans ranging from $1,000 to $5,000.
The art at Casa Frela was a mix of pieces by contemporary African-American artists and traditional art and artifacts from the African continent, and the gallery is housed in a beautiful historical Harlem brownstone. I recognized several items from the Bamiléké area of Cameroon, as well as many Nigerian and Ethipian pieces.
Soothing music was provided by a young Gambian Cora player, Malang Jobarteh. The gallery owner is Lawrence Rodriguez, himself the product of two cultures, Mexican and Native American.

Contemporary art

Amber beads in a wooden bowl

Malang Jobarteh
Playing Cora

Entrance to Casa Frela Gallery

Baa, baa, black sheep...

2011-04-04T19:37:00.002-04:00

Sheep, gentle and meek not only in reputation!
(Link to Cameroon sheep photo here)

Barely a few months into my life in Cameroon, we went on a road trip to West Cameroon to see a business connection.
Nkongsamba is one of the Littoral Province's larger towns, a commercial hub, about two hours' drive on the way to West Cameroon, from Douala, where we lived.There we stopped for lunch at a local small hotel. I ordered roast chicken which seemed safe and familiar.
When the chicken was served, I tried to dig in--unsuccessfully. The chicken was as tough as leather. Little did I understand the reality of "poulet bicyclette" (bicycle chicken), i.e. chickens that were never fed anything, and had to fend for themselves, often pecking on dirt and running around all day, till they approach Lance Armstrong's musculature. I had to wait a couple of years till my American friend started a chicken farm to have tender chicken. That was that for lunch on that day!
We continued our journey to look for our contact, for whom we had no exact address, as these are rather rare in Cameroon, especially outside of major cities. When we reached his village we asked about his whereabouts, but were given the runaround. Everyone feigned ignorance. We finally found him, but it wasn't easy. Since the days of the struggle for independence, people, especially in West Cameroon which bore the brunt of the colonial power's harsh push-back, are loathe to give up anyone's location.*
Finally, we went to visit a small farm. At the end of our tour, as a gesture of courtesy to a "new wife," I was offered a sheep to take home. However, as the sheep was being dragged to our car, it looked so unhappy and scared that I started crying. The farm owners promised to keep the sheep at the farm, alive and happy, while probably thinking to themselves, "What a crazy foreign woman!" And when I returned home, my father-in-law was none too happy to hear that I had turned down a free sheep!

*Even further: real names were not used, and at one point children didn't even know their father's real name. For example, if a person's name was Joseph Happi, he'd just be called "Mister Joseph" which would become "Massa Yo," and his children would know him just as Massa Yo. Nowadays, I assume that this era is over, and everyone knows their neighbors' and relatives' name.

Link to the photo of a Cameroon sheep, less woolly than our North American counterpart.

Bibi Seck, Industrial Designer in New York City

2011-02-27T11:58:00.000-05:00

Ayse, Bibi, and daughters

Bibi Seck is an industrial and product designer of Senegalese and Martiniquais descent, introduced from afar by Fatimata Ly, a Senegalese ceramics designer I wrote about last year. As a matter of fact, I had been hearing about him and his spouse, Ayse Birsel, for a while already: the New York African design community is not that large, and especially an African married to a fellow Middle Easterner (Turks are Middle Easterners as well as Europeans, with literally a foot in both worlds; and of course we had the Ottoman Empire for six centuries!).

Moroso-M'Afrique collection

Bibi’s stools, made in Senegal, of recycled plastic, are currently exhibited at the Museum of Art and Design’s Global Africa show.

I interviewed him last week to find out what his path had been to this point. Bibi was raised between Europe and Senegal.He had planned on studying architecture at first, but then found his true vocation in Industrial Design at the Ecole Supérieure de Design Industriel. After graduating, he spent many years as automobile designer for Renault, in France. During a trip to New York, he met Ayse, and after a few years he moved to New York to found a family, and the firm Birsel + Seck.

A few years ago Birsel + Seck was approached by an Italian firm, Moroso, to create designs for an upcoming show in Milan, M’Afrique which took place at the Moroso showroom. Bibi designed 9 items. The Bayekou chair was just featured in the New York Times Home section.

Moroso-M'Afrique Collection

At the Biennale of Dakar, he met an entrepreneur who dealt in recycling plastic for industrial use, and they formed a joint venture to make furniture from recycled plastic in Senegal.

The factory in Dakar-making the stools

Most recently, in 2011, the Museum of Modern Art PS1 in Long Island City, NY, inaugurated new cafeteria stools. This was the result of a not-for-profit fundraising effort, spearheaded by Herman Miller Furniture. The true adventure was in getting the furniture in time to New York from Dakar! Below are a few photos of the manufacturing process in Dakar (taken with Bibi's phone camera, so they are a little fuzzy), and the finished product in use at PS1.

Finished stools in use at PS1

Detail of stool

Double table at PS1

Cassava, a multi-function edible root; making Gari

2011-01-17T15:40:00.001-05:00

Cassava is known in French as Manioc, and here in the United States often as Yuca or Yucca. It seems it originated in South America, but it is widely grown in equatorial Africa. In Cameroon it is a staple, and the most common and popular use is Gari, a sort of coarse tapioca; mixed with water, sugar and peanuts to make a filling snack or meal.
A field was planted by a friend in Abo, Littoral region, two years ago, and finally the cassava roots were harvested in November/December 2010 (a warm and dry time of the year). Our very trusted friend Guérin supervised and participated in the harvest and the making of Gari from beginning to end, and sent us photographs of the process.

Cassava in the field

Cassava and bags transported to the main road

(left to right) Piling cassava roots at loading area; filling the truck; unloading

Peeling the roots; the drying area; putting the peeled roots into bags

Grinding; sifting/soaking; drying

Drying in the sun; finished Gari; bagging for the market

After the bags of finished Gari were filled, they were sold at the market in Sousa, about an hour away from Douala. This tiny venture created a few temporary jobs, at least!

Sousa Food Market

Uncooked Miondo

Other uses for the Cassava root are miondo, a perennial Duala favorite, written about in an earlier post about Cameroonian food.
Our Latin/Caribbean-American community here in the United States enjoys Yuca fries, and Cassava bread is made in the Dominican Republic. Leaves are used in stews similarly to spinach. More is found about other countries' uses on the Wikipedia page.

Cooked Miondo

Vickie Frémont, New York - Africa: artist and designer

2010-10-24T20:34:00.011-04:00

Vickie Frémont

Vickie Frémont has been designing and creating since she was 8 years old, drawing and painting without having ever been taught. At the age of 12 she began to sew, making dolls for her little sister. She was rather shy and spent most of her time as a child alone, reading, writing or knitting, beading… Vickie was born in Cameroon, but left at an early age. With her parents, she lived in Morocco, and many years in the Ivory Coast and in France. She obtained a Bachelor’s degree, in France, and planned to teach Spanish. She also studied anthropology and economics. However, at one point she was working in the neighborhood of the

Necklaces

Beaux Arts (fine arts) school and started studying Arts techniques, realizing that there was her calling.
She operated a knit textile company for several years, employing 10 people, creating knit designs for such well-known brands as Georges Picaud, Anny Blatt, Pingouin, Phildar, Sonia Rykiel, Torrente, Dorothée Bis, Daniel Hetcher and Issey Miyake. She created and sold jewelry in her shop located in the fashionable Marais neighborhood (Paris).
Ten years ago, at a crossroad in her life, she made the momentous decision to move to New York City to further her dream of being engaged in art on a full-time basis. Her first position in the United States was as store manager and buyer for the Museum for African Art, which was at the time located in Soho.

Basket made with bottle caps

Puppets of Cameroon

Currently, she designs and makes jewelry and other items, which were also sold at the Soho Museum Store, and can be currently found at the Brooklyn Museum store. She focuses on what she loves: jewelry, bracelets, necklaces, earrings with recycled materials but also with beads, African materials, stones, brass beads etc..; sculptures, puppets, baskets that include beads, textiles, and different kinds of recycled materials such as hangers, cardboard, plastic baskets (for example, strawberry containers). She works with anything that’s easy to carry, to cut or to adjust, clean materials, such as toilet paper rolls that she uses to create dolls or jewelry. Since her position at the Museum for African Art, she has participated in many cultural programs. She participated at Beads, Body and Soul, a Yoruba-theme exhibition; the Hair exhibition; the Baoulé pottery exhibit... In honor of the fiftieth anniversary of Cameroon’s independence, she created a series of puppets representing the ten main regions of Cameroon. She has been featured in the media: in Amina, the most popular African women’s magazine; in television documentaries; the well-known singer, Kaïssa, wears her jewelry.

Amina Magazine, Cameroon edition

Kaïssa wearing Vickie's beaded bracelet
(photo: Maciek Schejbal)

Her life philosophy is that beauty can be found everywhere. It is a challenge to give a new life to what people call trash. As an educator, she thinks that the progressive transformation of objects is like a miracle, a “re-creation”. She also notices that the activity, for many people helps to restore self-esteem, as it opens a door into the unlimited world of creativity.

Her guiding emotion? “To keep a part of my childhood, and to center myself.”

Young student with doll

Vickie provides educational programs: The Recycling Art Program. As a young girl, Vickie did not own manufactured toys, but she was happy with her own “made by myself” toys, made with all kinds of materials (stones, wooden sticks, scraps of fabric). She says: “Creating something from ‘nothing’, art from what many would consider trash, is not only a worthwhile undertaking but one that brings personal and mutual pleasure and understanding.”

The program can be adapted for primary school children, high school and college students, teachers, parents, and seniors, people working in stressful occupations. It can be considered a distraction or a recreational activity, but also as training for work with young people. It has been of particular interest to those involved in the fields of education and health.

Her website is http://vickiefremont.com/ and she can be reached by e-mail. She is available to give workshops. More photos are on the SoSauce site: http://www.sosauce.com/album/10882/vickie-fr%C3%A9mont/

Traditional and Contemporary Dress from Africa

2010-08-28T19:56:00.001-04:00

In May, there was a photo of South African President Zuma wearing leopard skin at a wedding. The photo prompted a discussion on whether Africans should show the rest of the world themselves in traditional dress, or wearing European clothes in order to "blend in" with the rest of the world, as many Westerners have an unfavorable idea of African tradition.
In my view, this would be an error. The problems in Africa do not have anything to do with their traditional ways of dressing. As a matter of fact, some of the leaders one only sees wearing suits and ties are in fact the worst and the most corrupt.

Photo courtesy Sakina M'sa

To be frank, some ways of dressing may not be the most practical for going to the office; and I have nothing against anyone wearing the latest designs, especially as nowadays there are also many designers of African descent, albeit more in the realm of women's clothing than men's attire. To cite a few: Alphadi, Sakina M'sa, Lola Faturoti (if you are an African designer and you'd like to be added to this list, please send a note!). That's without counting the African diaspora, now all over the world: a few talented African-American designers are Eric Gaskins, Patrick Robinson, Edward Wilkerson...
However, traditional dress also has its place and time, and it would be a shame to lose it. There are so many styles all over the African continent that I can only show a few, from my own photos, from Cameroon.

Bamenda ceremonial robe

The following shows a ceremonial outfit from Bamenda, Northwest Cameroon (near Nigeria). On top is the cap that is worn with it, and a couple of necklaces (from other regions).
There are many varieties on this theme, all beautifully done.

Here our cousin is wearing an African-style outfit as office wear: it works in a city such as Douala, without a winter and no commuting by subway!

Duala men wearing the ceremonial Sandja Ngondo

The "official" Duala traditional clothing (since colonial days) is more adapted to ceremonial outings than for work, whether for men or women.

Knotted headscarf

Malian cap

Women's head scarves are often knotted in elaborate ways. Men of course also have their head coverings, such as a variety of skull caps, and the European hat.

Duala women wear the kaba since the arrival of Christian missionaries. Missionaries in Hawaii created a similar garment for local women, as the original garments offended their religion--I found out about this when reading Mitchener's opus "Hawaii".

Duala women in a procession in matching kabas

At a funeral or another ceremonial occasion, Duala women of a specific group (neighborhood, political party, family group) will wear kabas in the same fabric.

My online friend Boukary Konaté, whose efforts to teach the use of the Internet in Mali was described in this entry, sent a few images of traditional and contemporary outfits in Mali. Note the indigo dye in the lady's outfit, typical of West Africa. Mali is especially well-known for its expertise in indigo dye.

Mali man in a traditional outfit

Mali young lady wearing indigo-dye outfit

Mali young man wearing "Western" clothing

Africa is a large continent, and I'll attempt to collect more images of the ways people clothe themselves, whether in traditional or contemporary style. Stay posted!

Jerry Vogel, Africa Veteran Extraordinaire

2010-07-25T12:16:00.002-04:00

Jerry Vogel was getting ready to leave for

Mali

, to take a group of students from all over the

United States

on a tour. He’s been traveling throughout Sub-Saharan Africa since the 1960s. Having arrived for the first time in

Cameroon

fifteen years later, I was eager to hear of his impressions from those post-independence years.

Above: to the right, a Cameroonian Calebasse

Jerry Vogel is a born and bred New Yorker: helived in the Bronx, until he left for Hamilton College.He received a Fulbright Scholarship to study for a year in

France

.After completing graduate studies in English Literature, he taught at Georgetown Universityfor five years, when he applied for a teaching position at the university in Abidjan,

Ivory Coast

. At that point he knew nothing about Africa.

In 1966,

Ivory Coast

had been officially independent from

France

for four years. However, it seemed to be independent in name only, and may havebeen one of the rare countries whose French population grew after independence,instead of shrinking. There were French barbers, taxi drivers, check-out ladiesin supermarkets. At the university, Jerry Vogel was the only non-Frenchprofessor, and was barred from teaching American literature except in theevening, when no official classes were held. Later he was “permitted” to teach“the Victorian Novel” and conversational English, which was in itself anovelty: English was taught like Latin, with dissertations and writtentranslations. The University did not provide him and his spouse, Susan Vogel,with housing; finally, the Department of Education (which had no relationshipwith the university) gave him the use of an apartment otherwise inhabited byhigh school teachers, and he found some furniture at the American Embassywarehouse! After much wrangling, the French added a small supplement tothe income he was receiving from the

U.S.

government.

During his stay in Abidjan,Vogel was able to perfect his knowledge of the French language, and when hereturned to the

United States

in late 1965, he tried to find employment that would be related to Africa. He joined Operation Crossroads Africa in 1966, which was founded by James Robinson and based in New York.The organization received contracts from the American government to bringAfricans to the

United States

for short-term stays in training programs, the “International Visitors’Program.” Vogel would travel to Africa in interview and select applicants.

The region he started out in was Central Africa:he went to

Cameroon

Central African Republic

, (formerly Belgian)

Congo

Nigeria

Chad

...In

Cameroon

, in 1966, he stayed in Bafoussam (French-speaking West Cameroon)and Buea, in the English-speaking area. When James Robinson passed away in1972, Vogel became the Executive Director of Crossroads Africa. Vogel added a programwhich brought volunteers to Africa from the

United States

. He remained at the organization until 1984; there was no endowment andeven though the finances showed a surplus, it was stressful to constantly besearching for funds.

Vogel had already started a program incollaboration with the Parsons School of Design in 1983, bringing groups ofstudents to Africa. In the 1990s the program was transferred to Drew University inNew Jersey, where it remains to this day. In 1984, after leaving CrossroadsAfrica, he also launched a business making household and clothing items in

Ivory Coast

with local fabrics, selling in the

United States

through a trade show in NY.

In the meantime, his wife, Susan Vogel, foundedthe Museum for African Art on 84th Street inManhattan. When the Museum moved to a larger location in Soho and opened a museum shop,Vogel was charged with purchasing merchandise, until 2005, when the Museummoved to temporary quarters in Long Island City, Queens, NY.Since the creation of the Museum, he has at various periods managed the store,curated at the museum, acted as Deputy Director. Currently he only works therefor two days a week, coordination relations with collectors and art dealers,tours to Africa, and translating French documents as “Special Advisor to thePresident,” who is now Elsie McNabe-Thompson.

Talented artistic Cameroonian friends

2010-05-16T17:18:00.003-04:00

When we were living in Cameroon, we often worked with people from the family circle and the neighborhood, but at other times, we also had the pleasure of collaborating with talented people we met by coincidence.

As architects, we worked on a variety of projects. One of them was the renovation of a university restaurant in West Cameroon, in the Grassland region.

The original building was from the Soviet-era, in a rather "squarish" architectural style. My spouse was able to "Africanize" it by adding mosaic panels on the exterior walls.

As for the inside, there were large empty walls, so we suggested that a modern artist come and decorate them with frescoes. We thought of Koko Komegne, whom we had met a short time before; he assured us that large-scale frescoes would not pose a problem.

As it turned out--we didn't know this before Koko won the bid--Koko is from the same area the building was located in, so he was especially invested in doing something memorable. And a wonderful job he did--several large-scale frescoes were completed in just 2 weeks! He used his favorite theme: music and jazz.

After that job, which he successfully completed in a short time, Koko started calling me "Maman" (Mom). This may seem strange to a Westerner, but in Cameroon, it was meant as a sign of affection.

I acquired a couple of Koko's paintings myself; his work is joyful, and I still have them.

The second artist we worked with is Tjap Oum. At first, his business, as he was a trained building technician, was a small contracting company; he borrowed a small space from our office, and we saw each other every day. However, he had a very interesting voice, in a bit of a Louis Armstrong style. After a couple of years, he launched a singing career, under the name of Tjap's, which went well--he has become a household name in Cameroon. He is currently residing in France, at last news. He usually sings in his native language, Bassa. I found this song online: "Tamboura." It seems to be rather recent--his voice has somewhat changed in all these years, it is hoarser. This is a photo of one of his older CDs, Kunde.

N.B. On another musical note: down memory lane: the 2010 World Soccer Cup song (Shakira) samples Zangelewa, which was incredibly popular about 20 years ago!

2011: Unfortunately, in the meantime, Tjap has passed away, far too young.

Uncle Dibounjé, family celebrity

2010-05-01T18:37:00.006-04:00

Uncle Dibounjé was one of the first non-immediate family members my spouse introduced me to upon my first visit to Douala. Uncle Dibounjé was otherwise known as Chief Dibounjé Cain Toukourou, the traditional chief of Bonendalé, a village about 20 km away from Douala over a bumpy road, crossing the bridge towards West Cameroon.
My spouse's relationship to him was through his paternal grandmother. Not exactly close blood ties, but my spouse and Uncle Dibounjé had been close on an intellectual level for many years. At the time, his grandchildren were all very young, but now we are in constant contact with his eldest grandson, who lives in France. When I asked him whether I could write about his grandfather, and use the photo I had available, he answered: "Why are you asking me? Do whatever you want: he's your family too."
Uncle Dibounjé was a local celebrity. In fact, he was one the the subjects of a book written by a French Jesuit priest, Père Eric de Rosny, who still lives in Cameroon. Uncle Dibounjé was said to possess great spiritual powers. Some went as far as to say he was a "sorcerer," which he refuted because of the evil connotations.
Being a chief doesn't pay the bills, so Uncle Dibounjé had a profession: pirogue (boat) builder, which he then rented out to local fishermen.
When I was taken to visit him, "fresh off the plane," as I was at the time, I was rather intimidated. This was the relative who had advised my spouse not to go abroad for his studies. Now, not only had he gone to France, he had also brought back a "white" wife, to top it all off. Of course, Uncle Dibounjé was charming with me, and offered me breakfast; grilled fish with boiled green plantains (one of my culinary cultural shocks: what, no bread at breakfast?).

In the year thereafter—I had returned to the United States for work—Uncle Dibounjé fell ill. On his deathbed, he asked my spouse to prepare his will, an enormous mark of trust. He passed away soon after.
The house shown is Uncle Dibounjé's old home.

Sculpting the stool

2010-04-11T20:18:00.004-04:00

Africans made metal tools by sharpening them with stone instruments, before they started using European-style hoes and specialized tools. Stools were mainly found in forest areas, because of the availability of large blocks of wood.

Traditionally, a person would put in an order for a custom stool with a professional sculptor, who would make it out of a block of wood. First the wood had to be hollowed out with a hoe, called a dibao. The sculptor would use a controlled fire (using hulls of palm nuts, or banana leaves) within the wood, to soften it in order to be able to hollow it out, in a similar way as used when making a pirogue.
The sketch shows the way the stool was sculpted, along with the photo of a finished stool.

Before the stool was finalized, the client would sit on it to ensure that the height and width were comfortable. The formed stool was then sculpted with symbols, names...

Before the use of sandpaper, leaves of a plant named (in Duala) Djolossi were used to smooth the wood.

Modern stools, such as those by Padouk Design, are made from separate pieces of wood, that are sculpted and pre-sanded before assembly, and assembled by metal screws, or by tenon and mortise.

Note: There is a comprehensive German book on the subject of African seats: Afrikanische Sitze, published by Prestel.

Thanks to my husband, Epee Ellong, for the historical details.

This is a follow-up to "African Stools."

About pirogues: http://indigenousboats.blogspot.com/2009_05_01_archive.html

Recipe: Okra stew, adapted

2010-03-30T19:05:00.001-04:00

This is an adaptation of okra stew for Western kitchens. Okra is called "gombo" in Duala language (like "Gumbo" in the United States; the word arrived with the African slaves that were brought to the country).

Ingredients
Smoked turkey (drumsticks or wings) OR beef for stew
Onions, chopped
Canned tomatoes (crushed)
Bouillon cube
1-2 tbsp natural peanut butter (for example from health food store) with no added sugar
Okra (fresh or frozen) – chopped, cap removed
Salt/pepper
If desired, scotch bonnet hot pepper, preferably red

   Sauté chopped onions; add turkey or beef cut in pieces. Add chopped okra (part can be put in a blender with the tomatoes if preferred), crumbled bouillon cube, salt (not too much because of the bouillon cube and possibly salt in the turkey and peanut butter), pepper and some water; dilute peanut butter with some water and add to pot. Add hot pepper (whole) if desired. Cook over medium heat (after liquid boils) for about 45 mn – 60 mn, stirring regularly, and if necessary adding more water. The peanut butter has a tendency to stick to the bottom of the pot.
   Taste and season. If you put in a hot pepper, it will be safer to remove it when the sauce is done. Hot pepper gets ever hotter as time goes on!
   Serve with boiled plantains (green or yellow) or cooked rice.
   Sometimes I add corn, which an African may find heretic.

In Cameroon, this dish is sometimes made with dried fish; and Cameroonians usually like their okra sauce extra-slimy! The above recipe, however, is not slimy; don't worry!

African Stools

2010-02-21T15:41:00.002-05:00

The most important piece of furniture in an African household is the seat, most often a stool or bench, as it is called in French: le banc.

The Duala of the area now known as Cameroon, for example, believed that the owner’s mystical strength lay in his seat; it was therefore dangerous for another person to sit on it. This person could be hit by lightning if he did not possess a similar mystical force. To sit on another person’s seat was to openly defy him, and nobody was surprised to find the transgressor dead the next day.

In Ghana, an Ashanti’s seat would be tipped to one side when its owner was absent, to ensure it would not be used in his absence.

These backless seats were also used as thrones, albeit very ornately sculpted. A throne was not sufficient to make a king: the officials of the kingdom, who had assisted at the death and the burial of the previous king, were the only ones entitled to seat the new ruler on his throne, after a series of esoteric rituals. Wars have been waged over the theft of a throne. During journeys, a servant followed the king, carrying his travel seat, lighter than his usual one. Around a king, people either sat on the ground or stood up, while he sat on his personal seat and nothing else.

The common mortal, of course, can also own his seat, as long as the model is appropriate for his social rank. The higher the tribal rank, the more prestigious and elaborate the seat. The most talented sculptors were chosen for this type of work. The sculptor chose an appropriate tree trunk and worked on it in the same way as a canoe, by setting a fire in a hole in the middle of both sides. He then worked on the wood through the hollow made by the heat. When professions were still easy to describe, the owner’s profession or special skill would be showcased in the sculpture of the bench. In later days, the owner’s name was often sculpted into the seat.

This photo shows a contemporary take on the stool, by Padouk Design.

At the Deido traditional chief's home, in Douala, Cameroon, there are several traditional stools, including

one that used to belong to his mother, who was from

Akwa (another part of Douala), with her name sculpted on it.

In a separate album, I put together a variety of African seats, which I will continue adding images to.

Note: Padouk Design is a company owned by my husband and myself, currently not in activity.

Welcome to the (African) Dollhouse

2010-01-18T10:07:00.001-05:00

In "the olden days," there was a larger variety ofdolls, of which I'll describe a few.

Ashanti doll

-The

Ashanti

doll, from

Ghana

, a wood circle-face on a stick-like body (photoshown)

Moundang doll

-The Mandara mountains Moundang doll, from Northern Cameroon, made of volcanicrock, and decorated with tiny beads. This is the one which arguably leastresembles the traditional European-style doll (photo shown).

-Fali dolls from northern

Cameroon

* male doll made of a corncob, decorated with cowry shells, European beads, leather strips,with a cotton skirt;

* "boy" doll made of wood, with cowry shells, bells,leather strips;

Ngongui doll

-And lastly from this short list, the easiest style to make, incoastal Cameroon: a plant called Ngongui is pulled out of the ground: the rootsare cleaned and trimmed, to represent human hair; the leaves are trimmed so asto be able to "stand up" on the ground, representing the human body (shown on the left).

I have included a few more photos from my own doll collection: aSenegalese rag doll, a doll with a straw head, and a plastic doll wearing Martinique's madras clothes(African diaspora).

Below are a few links to sites that show African dolls:

http://www.galion-import.com/spip.php?article643 Fali-Namjidoll

http://akwaba-africa.blogspot.com/2007/03/les-poupes-en-afrique.html

http://www.artspremiers.net/poupee-ashanti.php poupee

ashanti

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/African_dolls

How to Save Money: Cameroon Tontines

2010-01-03T18:49:00.002-05:00

In various parts of Africa, there are informal organizations, called "tontine," in French-speaking Cameroon. I looked up “tontine” in the English-language Wikipedia, and the definition is not the same; however, there is a link to the word “likelamba,” which describes the everyday African tontine.

Two types of tontines
The usual system is that all the members of a tontine—usually tontines are all-male or all-female—contribute a set amount of money every month to a common “pot,” and every month a different person takes the entire sum, usually to take care of a large expense they couldn't otherwise afford: tuition for a child, household equipment, etc. It is very difficult to save money in Sub-Saharan Africa for all but a fortunate few. Everyday needs are pressing, and there is never enough money; even if there is, a family member may have an urgent need, and there goes any money that was left over!

In Cameroon, there is yet another tontine system, called the "Businessman's tontine." In this tontine, the monthly "pot" is auctioned off to the highest bidder, and the members share the payment. The winner of the bid must pay the fee immediately, and repay the loan at the next meeting. The agreement is based on honor; however, everyone knows that woe be to him and his family, if the loan is not repaid.

I found several articles/studies about the Bamiléké tontines. The Bamilékés are originally from West Cameroon, and are generally known as enterprising and thrifty people.

I was in two different tontines.

One was a female Bamiléké "regular" tontine, where not only was I the lone "white" woman, but also the only non-Bamiléké. We would meet on one Saturday a month, taking turns at one another's homes; eat grilled chicken and drink beer, and talk about "women's topics"--husbands, money and children.

The second one was an indirect tontine: we had created an organization of women married to men native of our Douala neighborhood (formerly one of the three villages that formed Douala). We met in order to try to improve life in our part of the city, and organized a fundraiser with a big luncheon; we used the funds we raised to do some renovations in the neighborhood city-owned health center/clinic. We had our "club outfit"-- a mini-kaba* in a fabric we chose, and we all knew how to sing the local anthem, which provided me with my "15 minutes of fame," when we sang it on national television. The anthem was in Duala language, and it was rare to see a "white" singing in any local Cameroonian language. As we met once a month anyway, we decided to create a small tontine of our own.
Both "clubs" gave me a wonderful feeling of female solidarity, and I have very fond memories of these meetings.

The good and the bad
Of course there is a negative side to some of the tontines; people might aim for monthly contributions that are too high, much like in the United States, people committed to mortgages they could not afford; in order to continue participating, some would engage in dishonest activities. Others, unable to pay, might go so far as to commit suicide. Unfortunately, even then, family members may be liable for payments!

In Alain Henry's account on his experience visiting a tontine, he is met with suspicion. People are usually co-opted into these associations and outsiders are not welcome. The members, in the organizations I had the honor of participating in, were bound by mutual trust.

*Kaba: the Duala traditional dress inspired by the Protestant missionaries' influence, similar to the outfit the missionaries forced the local Hawaiian women to wear, also. A description is found at "Wakuna's Cameroonian Pidgin - English Dictionary."

Note: Japanese account of the tontine.

Our Daily Bread (or Plantain)

2009-12-19T19:49:00.003-05:00

In earlier blog posts, I wrote about the variety of Cameroonian food. In this post, I'll delve into the daily life of the household in Douala, and the efforts put into getting a meal on the table.

Douala is situated 4 degrees north of the equator, near the coast, at the estuary of the Wouri River. The climate is tropical. Humidity is extremely high and temperatures are most often in the 90-degree Fahrenheit range (30 Celsius).
There is a rainy season that lasts about two months every year, when it gets slightly cooler (in 12 years I managed once to wear stockings, not really because I needed to), but humidity goes through the roof, and it can pour nonstop for several days in a row.

In the first months, I used to go to the food market several times a week to buy groceries. Deido market was the closest (Deido is the Douala neighborhood where we lived, and my husband's ancestral home). It was not a very large market, but you could get everything you needed for regular household needs: meat, fish, tubers, fruit, condiments, etc.
If it was raining, it was very muddy: if you didn't have lightweight rubber boots (rather hard to find), you wore flip-flops, which you could wash when you returned home. Flip-flops are called "no fear water" for good reason; another name is "Dschang shoes," after the name of a town in West Cameroon.

My mother-in-law accompanied me the first weeks so I could get the hang of it. She was able to carry home, balanced on her head, a whole cluster of plantain bananas ("régime de plantains"). I wish I had a photo of her carrying this load!

The merchants sat or crouched at tables with the wares piled on them. If they were sellling flour, grains, powdered condiments... the measuring tool would be old metal cans of various sizes. Condiments such as fresh ginger root, which you couldn't pour, were sold by size. The only item that was weighed was meat. Even fish was sold by size, as only whole fish was sold; nobody had ever seen a filet, or even imagined a fish stick!

Plastic bags were a scarcity too. We'd wash them several times to re-use them, and hang them to dry in the yard. The garbage pail had to be emptied every day, because of the heat and humidity.

Planning meals was different from Europe and other "Western" countries, because you were never sure who might show up. One of the first advice I got was to never cook for a determined amount of people. Stews were the way to go as you cook serve them to a variable number of people. If you had the idea of cooking up 2 little steaks for yourself and your spouse, that would be the day 3 relatives would arrive, and try to cut up two steaks so 5 people can eat! This habit was due to the tradition, in the "old days" (pre-colonialism), to have a cabin available for travelers to stay in. The cabin would have a jug of water and a cluster of plantain bananas, so they could restore themselves before continuing their journey. The custom has remained alive to this day, insofar as a visitor is first offered a beverage (soda or an alcoholic beverage), and if it is meal time, food.

Ma Emilia, our Abo grandmother

2009-11-25T18:50:00.003-05:00

Ma Emilia was my spouse's maternal grandmother. Unfortunately, I did not get to know his paternal grandmother, as she died when my husband was a teenager. I did, however, have the good fortune to spend many years with Mama Emilia.

Emilia was from Abo, a group of villages in the Littoral region. The Abos are of a similar ethnicity as the Dualas. Unfortunately, it was very difficult to get there, and in 12 years, I never visited. She spoke Abo, Duala, and Pidgin English, but no French or English. We communicated through sign language and translators, until I learned enough Duala to get by.

She was raised in the village of Besunkan, in the Abo region, and moved to the village of Banseng when she married. Her husband spoke fluent German; at the time, Cameroon was a German colony.

After WW I, Germany, having lost the war, also lost its colonies, and the French took over Cameroon as part of their mandate. Those Cameroonians who spoke German were not dealt with tenderly, speaking euphemistically. The couple moved to Douala to escape persecution, to Bona'Ntone, part of Deido (one of the original three villages forming Douala). Emilia brought along her two younger brothers; their parents were deceased, and she acted essentially as their mother.

Both brothers received an education; the eldest was one of the first "clerks" at the SHO French commercial organization. The second brother studied medicine, and had almost finished, when he had a health setback.

My father-in-law noticed Emilia's older daughter, who was very pretty and fashionable, and fell in love.

By the time I arrived in Cameroon, Ma Emilia was living in our family compound, in my father-in-law's house. Her second daughter lived in another neighborhood; my mother-in-law was her eldest.

I'd try to grow some plants in our rather thankless garden; I'd come out in the morning and find her pulling out my shoots. We'd get into an argument with whatever language and hand signs we could muster; Bello, my brother-in-law, would come running over to translate, and told me she considered my plants "weeds!"

Her "vices" were her little tobacco pipe, and having a small glass of vermouth ("Martini") in our living room in the evening.

During the end-of-year holiday season, she would sit under the mango tree, in the front yard, and put her chin in her hand. When I'd ask her why, she told me that holidays saddened her, because that was the time of year both of her parents passed away.

The first time I had malaria--I took anti-malaria pills for a couple of years, but it's not very healthy to take them for your whole life--I was alone at home, and it was like a terrible flu, with someone beating you up, all at once. I was also sick to my stomach, and had to drag myself to the bathroom. She came over and remained by my side every minute; unused to company in such an embarrassing situation, I asked her to leave for a little while. She refused, saying that when she'd be ill, I'd be around too, to care for her.

When she was about 75, she decided to start a small plantation on a plot of land behind the one we were living in. She'd go every morning around 5 a.m., and bring back various tubers.

She never appeared to care that I was "white," her only concern was communication. When I learned a little Duala, she complained that I hadn't learned Abo!

It was great that she was able to enjoy a couple of her great-grandchildren. We had 4 generations in our compound for several years. That is the nice side of the African extended family (as in other parts of the world, too): no nursing homes where older people are far away from their families.

I hope Emilia is still watching over us as she used to, with the eyes of her spirit, now.

The dead are not dead (Part 2)

2009-11-22T17:23:00.001-05:00

From time to time, my posts will feature a person who is not with us any longer. This is not meant to be morbid, quite the contrary. I write about them because they are alive in my memory, and because otherwise, they may be forgotten.

Of course, I'll be writing about those I remember with affection. We still laugh out loud thinking of my father-in-law's expressions, and imagine what his reaction would be to some of the new configurations in the family.

Love lives on, all over the world.

Learning the language

2009-11-08T19:34:00.000-05:00

Having been raised in a multilingual household, and encouraged early on to learn the language of the country I happened to be living in, I planned on learning Duala, my husband's native language (albeit not his mother tongue, as his mother spoke Abo, and taught it to all her children).
It turned out to be a different kind of endeavor than in countries which have one main native language, such as Germany or Italy. Anyone could live their whole life in Douala without knowing a single word of Duala. Cameroon boasts about 200 languages, and the official languages are French and English (former mandate administrators). Most Cameroonians speak one of these two languages.
Moreover, Douala is now home to members of just about every ethnic group in Cameroon, as it is the commercial capital. The political capital is Yaoundé, further inland; it has about half the population of Douala.
Less than a hundred years ago, many Cameroonians (from the southern part) spoke Duala, which was the lingua franca in the area. Historically, Douala was the entry point when the first Europeans arrived. However, in recent years, the Duala-speaking population shrank to about 300,000 people. The lingua franca now is Pidgin English.
It was difficult to practice the language, as nobody would spontaneously speak to me in Duala, as I didn't need to open my mouth to be immediately perceived as a foreigner. Except for the people I knew personally, it was difficult for me to know who was a Duala speaker or not. My father's constant advice not to fear ridicule while learning a language was my mantra.
First I tried learning by listening and asking questions. However, this didn't work, as the structure of the language was unlike the languages I was used to and as my in-laws had not learned grammar, they couldn't explain what seemed to be inconsistencies to me. I started attending Friday evening adult classes at Collège Lieberman, a Catholic high school (in France, a Collège is a school that goes from 7th to 9th grade approximately; however Lieberman took its students all the way to the Baccalauréat, i.e. end of high school in the French system).
The students attending class were either foreign wives like me (mostly French), or members of other ethnic groups who wished to learn Duala. We had two teachers, and a slim book. It was not easy! Bantu languages are structured completely differently than Latin or other European languages. Singular and plural happen at the beginning of a word instead of the end: for example, an onion is "janga," onions is "manga." The rest of the sentence follows the same prefix, so you'll have sentences where all you hear is a series of "m," or "j"... unfortunately, I never reached a high enough level to be able to figure it all out, as I didn't get a lot of practice.
After 2 years of classes, I acquired a general understanding of the language. I purchased the books for Bassa and Ewondo, also, out of curiosity. The structure for these languages, all in the Bantu family, was the same; Abo, my mother-in-law's language, was also similar; the vocabulary and the consonants used were different. I did not get a chance to study Bamiléké, which is a group of "semi-Bantu" languages, or any other the languages from North Cameroon, which were closer in nature to those of West Africa.

Visit to Brooklyn Museum

2009-10-31T19:19:00.004-04:00

Recently, I visited the Brooklyn Museum to see the new show, Who Shot Rock & Roll. I couldn't resist a quick re-visit of the African section. I've attached a couple of photos from the Cameroon collection, as well as a a general view of the African galleries. The elephant mask is a new acquisition, however a well-known item in the Grassfield area.

From a lost kitten to a new friendship

2009-10-22T20:54:00.000-04:00

In Douala, people's doors used to be open during the day, and only locked before bedtime. Anybody, or in some cases anything, could roam in, almost anytime.

One morning, a small Siamese-looking kitten entered our home through the back door. I love cats, so I was not going chase it out. Everybody else, however, was urging me to "get rid of it," telling me "it could be dirty," and "who knows where it came from." I told them the kitten was very clean and certainly belonged to someone who had lost it.

At lunchtime, we were sitting towards the back yard, the cat peacefully snoozing on a chair. I noticed, through the window, a young girl on top of the roof across the alleyway, so I got up and called out, in French: "Miss! Miss! Did you lose a cat?" She looked up and said "yes!" I scooped up the kitten and went out to her house (in the meantime, she had climbed down from the roof). As it turned out, it was her wedding festivities I had been admiring from behind our back gate a few weeks earlier: after 6 months living in Africa, I finally heard a drumbeat! A man was playing on a small drum (tam-tam) with what looked like a spoon, and a group of women were dancing, wearing North-Cameroon-Muslim-type outfits. My neighbor introduced herself, told me she was newly married, and thanked me for taking care of her runaway kitten. As a token of her thanks, she gave me the next day an entire leg of lamb!

We became good friends, and remain so, even though communications are not easy since I moved back to the US. My father-in-law considered her part of the family. In the meantime, her life took many twists and turns, but the rest of her story will have to wait till she gives me permission to share it.

Tribute to my brother-in-law, the model maker

2009-10-10T21:06:00.003-04:00

Unfortunately, since my past post, my brother-in-law (the same person who helped me with the avocado tree) passed away suddenly, and far too young. Rather than delve into his life, I'd like to put up a few photos of his workmanship, as he was a talented model maker, whether for architectural models or using traditional materials.

Avocado Tree Adventures

2009-09-23T21:18:00.002-04:00

In Douala, soon after starting my life in Cameroon, I planted an avocado tree from a pit, in the back yard, in the empty area between the two houses in the family compound. Fulfillment of a dream, after years of trying to grow plants from avocado seeds as a student in Paris.

A couple of years later, the tree was as tall as me, and thriving. Unfortunately, my father-in-law decided he needed the space to build an annex to his house. I protested. He informed me that my tree was none of his concern--just a silly little tree, in a country where many plants grow very fast and very tall. However, this avocado tree had enormous sentimental value for me!

While I was stewing, an American agricultural engineer, Ben, on a business trip to Douala, came to our house for lunch. Upon my inquiry whether there was any way of saving my tree, he instructed us to cut off all the leafy branches, dig a large hole around the tree, and gently remove the tree with its roots in order to re-plant it elsewhere. So one hot afternoon, post-lunch, when everyone else was napping, my brother-in-law followed the instructions and together, we moved the tree to another available space near our office (which was in the same building as our home).

Fast-forward a few more years: the tree was 10 years old, and was towering over the roof. However, it had yet to produce a single avocado. I went to ask my mother-in-law why the tree was still barren after so many years; the tree seemed to have recovered from the transplant trauma a long time ago. After listening to the story, she took out her machete, went to the tree and started hitting its trunk with the blade. I was flabbergasted--and worried. Then she threatened the tree out loud: "If you don't bear fruit soon, I'll cut you down!"

Lo and behold, the tree grew a couple of avocados a few months later; and the next year we had so many avocados, that we were giving away bags of them to people. They were delicious and plentiful. As far as I know the tree is still producing to this day a yearly harvest.

Duala Men's Attire

2009-09-09T22:47:00.002-04:00

In daily life: work, parties... Cameroonian men usually wear the same clothing as in Europe, the US, Australia, and much of the Middle East and Asia: shirts, slacks, and so on.

Traditionally, however, Duala men wore, and still wear for specific occasions, a large fabric fastened at the waist called a Sandja. Originally, sandja fabric was made of tree bark, beaten till it was fine and soft enough to be draped. In Congo, a woven style of tree bark fabric is still made today, called "Kuba" cloth.
There were three different ways of wearing the sandja: Held up at the waist to form short sherwal-type pants*; knee-length; and the ceremonial style, still worn today, full-length. That is the style I saw the most, often called "Sandja Ngondo" because it is worn for the Ngondo celebration (which had not been celebrated for 20 years when I arrived in Cameroon).

My first experience of men wearing a sandja was at funerals, when men wore a black velvet cloth, with a white shirt, and 2 black scarves: one around the shoulders, and one around the waist. If the deceased had suffered a violent death, a red band was also worn around the upper arm. (The women wore kabas, the Duala traditional dress inspired by the Protestant missionaries' influence.)

*For a short explanation of what a sherwal is, click here

Wildlife in the city

2009-08-25T10:11:00.000-04:00

Beyond the irksome insects and other home invaders, there are also interesting animals that live in the city, but outside homes (most of the time--sometimes a creature might get lost and enter a home by error.) The most fascinating were the big lizards, called "margouillats." The Douala margouillats were blue-greenish, about 6 inches long, and I could stay for hours just watching them (of course when I arrived in Cameroon, there wasn't much to do. No TV, and the Internet didn't even exist yet). There was something about them. Every now and then you'd see an egg, and try to find out when it would hatch.
Other lizards were the little semi-transparent ones that you also find in the Caribbean islands. They often were found crawling on the inside of the house walls, toward the ceiling.
Before living in Douala, I didn't know there existed land-based frogs: they lived in the yard. It was hard to catch a glimpse of them, but you could hear them chirping at night. Crickets were heard, but not seen, also, as in the summer in other parts of the world.

Cameroon Street Fashion: Ladies First

2009-08-14T15:13:00.008-04:00

Women on the streets of the towns I visited - and I visited quite a few - wear a mix of styles, and the same woman may wear the latest Parisian fashion to the office one day, and a traditional outfit the next day.
A woman may not have the means to have a fancy house, but often you couldn't guess that by looking at her. If there is any money to spend, after basics such as shelter and food, she'll try to look her best.
Seamstresses are usually the means to look good. It is much cheaper to have an outfit custom-made, than to purchase at a boutique, even a non-luxury shop. However, more and more used clothing is arriving from the United States and elsewhere, some of it in excellent condition, and many people rely on that option; it is often very cheap. That is how you'll find someone in a remote village wearing a "University of Maryland" tee-shirt (possibly donated to a charity somewhere in Oklahoma).
Traditional dress differs depending on the lady's ethnic background. Or everyday purposes, however, almost all favor the North-Cameroon style, of which variations are also seen in other African countries: a wrap-around long skirt, matching blouse (usually short-sleeved) and headscarf. Tying that headscarf in an aesthetic way is much harder than it looks!

Tarzan movies

2009-08-10T20:14:00.015-04:00

The NY Times recently had an article about a Parisian Tarzan-themed exhibit at the Musée du Quai Branly. The article reminded me of the 1984 movie starring Christophe Lambert. The Africa scenes were filmed in Cameroon. However, that fact was the not the reason my husband's cousin (an incurable romantic) and I were so infatuated with the film: we just adored the love story. The location shown in the movie, if I am not mistaken, is near Kribi, close to the seashore.* There is an area with a series of waterfalls, flowing into ponds of brackish water. It is absolutely gorgeous, as are many other places in Cameroon.
Cameroon is called "Africa in Miniature" because there's a bit of everything, geographically, from the south to the north, that you'd find in other African countries: Rain forest, green hills, savanna, waterfalls, as well as many animals such as monkeys, gorillas, lions, hippopotami, and the list goes on.

Photo of a waterfall in Western Cameroon

* As per IMDB.com: Bimbia, Southwest Province, Cameroon

All the Pretty English Words

2009-07-31T20:59:00.009-04:00

My husband's maternal grandma never learned English or French. She spoke Abo (her mother tongue), Duala, and Pidgin English (similar to Creole, but English instead of French). We had trouble communicating, and it was mainly for her that I went to class to learn some Duala. (My husband's paternal grandmother died when he was a teenager.)
One morning, Grandma came by our kitchen and said something I couldn't understand. She repeated several times and I still couldn't get it. Finally I realized she was saying "Good morning," but it sounded like "moni"!
Many English words made their way into the Duala language. The English Bible was the first to be translated into Duala. English words were used for items that did not exist prior to European settlers arriving in Cameroon.* Some examples:
Furniture/home:
kobati = cupboard
tebedi = table
frypan = frying pan
pan = pan
mattrassi = mattress
Building:
winda = window
briki = brick
Clothing:
drosee = drawers (i.e. underpants)
trosisi = trousers
Food:
breti = bread

*The name Cameroon comes from the Portuguese language. Portuguese explorers were the first on record to arrive in the Douala area, and they came at a time of year when the estuary was full of shrimp-like crustaceans, the mbeatowa. The Portuguese called the area "Rio dos Camerões" (River of Prawns).

An American in Douala

2009-07-29T21:54:00.004-04:00

One day a new American woman appeared in Douala, Tilda*. She did not arrive with a Cameroonian spouse, nor was she with the Consulate or the Cultural Center.
From what I was able to gather, she had left corporate life in the United States to come live in Africa. Hearsay was that she had been swindled out of her savings by an African man (not a Cameroonian, but I don't want to sully any national reputation by saying which country he was from).
She created a (in our eyes) modern chicken farm: sheds with many chickens living in them, across the river in Bonabéri. She delivered to our homes, minimum order: 5 chickens; she also sold eggs. After several years eating what we called "Bicycle Chicken," i.e. chicken that has lived its life running around and pecking earth, with muscles as hard as the winner of the Tour de France, we were quite grateful to have tender, albeit small and more expensive, chickens.
I perceived that Tilda was struggling financially. She certainly didn't seem to lead anything even close to a comfortable life. However unenthusiastic and even bitter about her life in Cameroon, however, Tilda indicated that she was unwilling and/or unable to return to the U.S.
After I left Cameroon, I did not hear anything about her, until last year, when a common friend wrote me that she had been run over by an automobile while riding her bicycle. Rest in Peace, Tilda.

*Not her real name.

Africa T-shirt graphics

2009-07-29T21:20:00.002-04:00

Recently, thanks to @Design_Junkies on Twitter, I discovered Skyler Vander Molen's graphics for an "Africa" T-shirt. I loved the creative, and found Skyler's website, to email him that I'd like to share the graphics with readers of this blog. This is the link to the graphics.
Skyler explained that he had created the T-shirt to raise funds for a humanitarian trip to Rwanda. From the website: "Global Peace Exchange is a student founded and run non-profit begun at Florida State University. In 2008, GPE took a team of 20 volunteers to Rwanda to help build an IT school and teach English. As a volunteer, it was our duty to raise money for the trip. As part of my contribution, I designed a t-shirt to raise awareness about Africa as well as raise money."

Don’t call out my name.

2009-07-27T22:18:00.008-04:00

The dead are not dead.

In many African cultures, the dead are not dead—they have just gone somewhere else, not too far, but invisible to us, the “living.”
In Duala culture, before colonization, and still the case in many families, every person had a given name that was followed by the father’s name. For example, Ebélé Billé is Ebélé, son of Billé. However, nobody ever calls the person out loud by their name. As most probably a forebear held that name previously, to call that name out would unnecessarily disturb the deceased forebear.
Instead, he’ll be called by a series of nicknames: “Tété” (ancestor), or the sound of the name on the horizontal wooden log (“Elimbi”) used as a local telegraph. For example, my husband’s telegraphic name was Koloto. Other Elimbi names: Dimbion, Toki, Tékélé...

Cameroon food: part 4 - everyday food

2009-07-19T16:10:00.004-04:00

On any given day, a “regular” stew is prepared. There is no individual portion in Cameroonian food, because you never know who may pop over for a meal; you have to be prepared to share whatever is in the kitchen. You don’t prepare 3 steaks (not that steaks exist traditionally, anyway) for your spouse, child and yourself; you may have not seen a guest for a month, but on the day you make individual portions, that’s when someone comes over unexpectedly, and try sharing 3 steaks between 4 people. (I have tried; it isn’t pretty.)
The usual everyday stew might be:
- Groundnut (peanut) sauce with either meat, chicken, or fried fish cut in pieces;
- Ground pumpkin seed sauce, same as above;
- A dense tomato and onion sauce, same as above;
- Okra stew with smoked fish or beef…
The stew is served along with a starch, such as boiled rice, boiled plantains (green or yellow), miondo, yam…
A less common stew is made with kelling-kelling – a slightly slimy leaf, chopped, and cooked with crab, served along banana leaf-wrapped dumplings made of ground makabo. Another less-everyday dish is Mandja Moto - tiny whole fish (about the size of a little finger) - stewed in a tomato sauce.

Voyages outside of Douala: Ndom

2009-07-14T21:23:00.007-04:00

We often had to make business trips out of town to visit sites.
One of our clients wanted to revise the layout of a home he had already started building, in Ndom, about 128 km from Douala, towards the northeast. Part of the road was highway, and the other part was on dirt roads, the infamous red laterite,* otherwise known as “tôle ondulée,” i.e. “wavy metal roofing”: very, very bumpy. It took six hours to reach our destination, by which time I felt like I had been shaken around in a salad wringer for several hours.
We were to stay overnight at the client’s brother’s home, a more rudimentary style of housing, with no inside plumbing. There were only 2 rooms, so as we were a large group, the men slept in one room and the women in another.
In the middle of the night I felt like going to the restroom: however, I was scared stiff of going to the outhouse, which was located several yards behind the house. I was convinced that a pack of wild animals would find me. I preferred to wait till morning.
In the morning, as I brushed my hair, I hoarded any hair that was in the brush, as I had been warned about “white people’s hair” being quite a prize for the local witch doctors. True or not true, I wasn’t taking any chances!
After the site visit the next day, we regrouped into different cars for the way home. Our client’s brother convinced us that he knew a shortcut. Of course we trusted him; after all, he had been raised in the region. We drove along winding roads and precipices, to finally reach Douala well after everybody else. After that, our code name for that brother was “shortcut” (“raccourci” in French).
A less humorous fact in Ndom was that a local farmer was about to lose an entire harvest of pineapples, because of the lack of decent roads to transport the merchandise. We heard that, in the meantime, a paved road has been built.

* For more information on laterite: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laterite

It takes a village…

2009-07-13T21:45:00.001-04:00

"It takes a village to raise a child." As hopefully most people know, this is originally an African saying. It certainly was true when my husband was growing up. The village in those days was still very close-knit, and many inhabitants were related to each other, either through blood or through marriage.

Late one evening, my husband and I were returning from a stroll in the neighborhood, and noticed a teenager still outside. My husband told him to go home immediately to his parents, and kept an eye on him till he was sure he was on his way home. I was surprised; in Europe and in the United States, other people's children are none of our business. However, this was, and still is, not the case in many areas of Africa. If you saw someone’s child, even if that child was already 6 feet tall, doing something he/she shouldn’t be doing, you had the duty and the right to scold the child. The parents’ child wouldn’t think of telling you off for it (and there was a good chance the child might not even dare tell them, for fear of being scolded again!).

Cameroonian food – part 3 – steamed in leaves

2009-07-09T17:49:00.002-04:00

Some dishes are steamed wrapped in banana leaves—the old-fashioned, eco-friendly, and tasty version of aluminum foil—the Dualas make Ekoki (from the sound of the pestle -Mboloki - pounding in the mortar - Eboki) The basic Duala Ekoki is made from ground beans similar to black-eyed peas, mixed with red palm oil. Another version is made with ground corn with Mbaa leaves.
Another banana-leaf-wrapped loaf is Ngondo nya Mukon (pronounced Ngonda’Mukon), most often made around the holiday season at year’s end. It is a cake made of ground pumpkin seeds, ground dried shrimp (Dibanga), and filled with beef or shrimp, sometimes smoked fish.
A Duala leaf-wrapped stew is Suwé nya Dibomba – fish in banana leaves.
The Béti make a stew called Ndomba (fish or game) which is also cooked in a banana leaf wrapping. The Bassa, from south-central Cameroon, make a very tasty leaf-wrapped fish stew called Mbongo Chobi, whose sauce is green-black.

A nice rainy day dish is Pépé Supi, a thick soup made with Makabo (a type of very dense local potato), basil (called Kotimandjo in Duala), spiced with hot Scotch Bonnet, Djangsang (a local spice that looks like a chickpea but has a very distinctive taste), and Pébé, another local spice in a hard shell.

Cameroonian food – part 2 - taste surprise

2009-07-07T19:51:00.001-04:00

Before moving to Cameroon, I thought I knew all about the world’s foods. I was raised on American and Middle Eastern food, and was later introduced to a variety of European, Asian and North African cuisines.
At the beginning of my life in Cameroon, I’d often have lunch at my in-laws, who lived next door (we shared the same compound). One day, there was a heaping dish of light orange-colored sliced plantains. I thought to myself, “I didn’t know they used curry here!” and helped myself to a plateful. At the first bite, however, I realized my error: these plantains had nothing to do with curry. The orange-colored seasoning was red palm oil, and it tasted unlike anything I had ever eaten before. At that point, I really didn’t like it, and I thought I was not a fussy person!
The dish is called Miellé ma Sésé. The plantains are boiled and then mixed with the palm oil, and shaken till the oil has coated everything.

Cameroon food - part 1

2009-07-03T19:46:00.018-04:00

Food in tropical Africa, as everywhere in the world, is mainly made with local products. Notable exceptions: tomatoes have become a staple, after being imported by the Europeans who had themselves imported them from South America. Tomatoes are not quite as ubiquitous as in southern Italy, but are the go-to item for sauces when a cook is in a crunch. Another import is salt cod, also known in the Americas as Bacalao. Cooked with what else... tomato sauce! Onions are also very popular, and I don’t think they are originally from the African continent.

Food, traditionally, is cooked. Well cooked. Salads used to be an unknown entity, and older people still call it “goat’s food.” Raw, or insufficiently cooked, would have been—and may still be—dangerous, in the hot and humid equatorial climate, where bacteria thrive, as it is never cold. Snow is a completely unknown entity.

Even after a third of his life spent in temperate climates, my husband will not touch a piece of fish sushi with a ten-foot pole! Meat and fish are either stewed, grilled over a wood fire, or fried.

Miondo and N'dolé with shrimp

The most famous Duala dish, and arguably the most famous Cameroonian dish is Ndolé. It’s a stew of groundnuts (finely ground), ground dried tiny shrimp called Dibanga, finely chopped Ndolé leaves, and a protein: meat, dried fish or shrimp, usually. Ndolé leaves are from a bush, aptly named “Bitterleaf,” in English-speaking African countries, because before the leaves are boiled/washed in water containing kaolin clay, they are indeed unbearably bitter and are used to treat stomach ailments. Ndolé is served either with boiled or fried plantain bananas, or with Miondo, otherwise known as cassava sticks: fermented cassava wrapped in leaves*, and boiled. To eat the Ndolé with Miondo, you unpeel a Mondo (singular), which is a little sticky, fold it, dunk it into the stew and bite a piece off.
Miondo are typically Duala; however, the Béti, from the center of Cameroon, have something similar, Ebobolo, much thicker than Miondo.

*Leaves are either Bendomban – a plant growing in the wild; or banana leaves, when Bendomban is not available.

Making Miondo

All the irksome critters

2009-06-27T19:23:00.005-04:00

Insects reign supreme in equatorial climates. Amongst the most aggravating during my 12 years in Douala:
- very large flying cockroaches. You'd feel "whish!" go through your hair; look around; and see a big fat -- UGH -- cockroach in the room.
- very tiny ants: nothing could be left out in the kitchen. Even closed jars of sugar and flour had to be refrigerated, otherwise the ants would find a way to get in.
- and the kings or rather queens of them all: mosquitoes. Anywhere I go mosquitoes feast on me, while I'm still exotic meat. Cameroon's mosquitoes are especially voracious. Bob, my husband, called them the B-52s.* I learned to wear cotton socks and slacks as soon as the sun went down. I can control what's flying around my arms, but not my legs and feet; mosquito bites on the feet are the worst. An additional disadvantage is having to worry about malaria.
Other invaders from the animal kingdom:
- at one point, for a few months, we had a millipede invasion. Every morning, we'd find them all over the bathtub.
- Field mice found their way easily into homes, and nibbled on just about anything: food, of course, but also dish towels, cookbooks, and even paper money left on the dresser (unforgivable. After that, I had to declare war).

* For more information about B-52s: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/B-52_Stratofortress

Terminology for skin color/race

2009-06-27T18:14:00.006-04:00

In the Duala language, black, i.e. local, with no visible European or Asian heritage, is "Moundo" ("Mindo," Pl.). A Caucasian is called a Moukala (Bakala, Pl.).

The extended family

2009-06-27T17:51:00.003-04:00

In Cameroon, and as far as I know in most of Sub-Saharan Africa, the notion of family is much more extensive than in Westernized countries, and a little more extensive than in Middle Eastern countries. A first cousin is often called "brother" or "sister;" cousins to the nth degree are just "cousins" (whereas in the U.S., very often, a second cousin is barely considered family anymore); same for aunts and uncles, there are so many you can't count them!

First glimpse of Douala

2009-06-25T19:18:00.005-04:00

I visited Douala, Cameroon, for the first time in 1980, for a short stay. Both Bob (future husband) and I had just completed our degrees in Paris, France, where we had met, in school.
Bob’s uncle had a car – not a regular occurrence in Cameroon, even nowadays – and took me for a tour of the city, which had about 1.5 million inhabitants at the time. At one point, we drove by some rundown-looking buildings, and I commented: “Oh, look, tenements!” Uncle looked shocked and retorted: “That’s the housing for Customs employees!” That was the first time I realized what a disconnect there was in my understanding of Africa.