The past month has gone by quietly yet productively. I’ve started preparing the courses I’m to take in the new semester starting October, and I’m pleased to be working on something palpable in terms of my experience. I’m now also attached to the Department of Bilingual Studies and the courses I’m taking are linguistics – language related. What’s so difficult is that there are no materials here, I mean, no books, and the Documentation Centre (beginnings of a library) has some references but nothing near adequate to answer all the needs of a diverse range of academic departments. So I have to rely on all that reading that is somewhere in my head while accessing memory prompts and articles on the Web. This in itself is an instructive and revealing exercise given the sheer quantity of material available.
With the university being new, there is no university life to speak of, and this hampers collegiality. For a newcomer like me, this has negative consequences for with no organized cultural activities or excursions, it is only with time that you can find a place. The courtyard space in the front of the building is where you meet whomever, greet the colleagues you know and smile at others. Bumping into someone in an ad hoc fashion is not very sure but if you don’t put too much thought into it and just let things flow (the only remedy available) sometimes miraculous things happen like seeing the person you’ve been trying to see for ages or meeting up with someone you didn’t expect to see but have been thinking of and wondering how to be in touch. It’s all very organic – there’s no option but to give over to the flow of time.
A couple of weeks ago I was contacted by the cable supplier for my area. The quotes I had been given were far too much but this supplier said it would (only) cost me four reels of cable and two boosters – about AUD$100 worth. Satellite TV is also available but to get the good cultural, educational channels you have to pay extra and the equipment plus subscription just didn’t come within my budget. Anyway, cable it is for now and after two weeks of hiccoughs – poor, fuzzy reception – I seem to be getting a more regular reception quality. France 24 is very good – mainly news but the channel I love best is TV5, the international French channel, because it broadcasts the news from France 2 (I get to see my two favourite presenters who I have watched faithfully for years) and they also broadcast cultural programs and some good films. Unfortunately the reception quality cannot always be relied upon and I have to keep at the supplier to see if somehow it can be improved.
Yesterday was the end of Ramadan, a day of great celebration. Half of Maroua seemed to be at the main mosque, all dressed in their best attire for the occasion. Many have new clothes made and if you can afford it, hand embroidered. Now, these boubou that the men wear can be quite magnificent and when you see so many together, the impression is one of splendor heightened by the sartorial elegance of the local sultan and his advisors, the former afforded great reverence. The turban-type headdress reminds one of Lawrence of Arabia and together with horse riders and their dress (of the riders and horses), the atmosphere is one of pageantry not to be missed. Yesterday, no horses – too many people – but the splendor was there all the same. Dress here is a function of status and on such a special day of faith, all dress the best they can by way of reverence to god.
Mid-morning I went to visit my Turkish friends and neighbours on the first floor – mum, dad and two girls, a lovely family. They speak little French or English for that matter, but somehow we get by. If it is mealtime, they always have me stay and yesterday, a late breakfast was most welcome. The mum makes Turkish sweets and cakes and yesterday I was spoilt with delicious cake with cream Chantilly (brought from Turkey, unavailable in Maroua). Over the past couple of months we have been able to get to know each other a little with the help of a local young man who studies in Turkey and was back home for holidays. He was able to translate from French into Turkish and vice versa – a slow but invaluable way of getting to know you.
The water has been cut since Tuesday (today is Saturday 11th September at the time of writing) because of some breakdown in the pumping systems some two hundred kilometers away. I tested my stored water capacity and yes, it is sufficient to last three days. But the blessing is there has been a trickle from the tap and leaving the containers under the tap for a length of time, I have been able to refill them on a daily basis. Just ever so grateful for goodness knows when we’ll get good water pressure back sufficient to shower!!
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
August - the month before the beginning of the end of the year
I’m slowly getting a grip back on things and I note the changes, changes in me more than anything for such a reality check leaves its mark. I appreciate my apartment space more than ever and have rediscovered music CDs that I haven’t listened to since Mexico days. Thank goodness I have them with me as without TV reception, the DVD and TV set are poised to play whatever I have on hand. I also have all the recorded material I purchased at the Ayurveda / Yoga conference last year. Not only is it instructive, but also healing to the soul and calming to the mind.
Getting about has become somewhat difficult particularly when the weather turns. It was great walking from the hotel to my office but now I am on the other side of town. The university car that picked me up and dropped me off in the first month or so is no longer operable which means I have to take a ‘moto-taxi’ – those motorbikes that shuffle people everywhere. You get used to them after a while but there’s no ease when you need to dress appropriately for work, possibly walk into town, carry a backpack of necessary whatever for the day, all while endeavouring not to overheat. And when it rains - it’s now officially the rainy season – well, it’s impossible to get around. I simply move to plan B – stay at home, read, do whatever and wait until the rain eases.
My apartment is on the third (top) floor of the building. The ceiling is non-insulated and the roof is corrugated iron. When the heavens open, all I hear is a muted thunderous sound blocking out all other sounds – impossible to listen to the radio or to music. I would describe it as like living in a tin shed with the edge taken off the strident noise of the rain on the roof. But then, this is a dry area and there are only a couple of months of rain and I have yet to experience what the month of August brings in terms of downpours. But the cement distribution centre opposite partly floods as does the road while the water gives new life to plants and trees which give off a delectable fresh smell. Even the rocky outcrop in the distance becomes green – quite impressive in the barren landscape of a month or so ago.
In town, there are always people wherever you go. You simply can’t enjoy the personal space that you enjoy on a daily basis in Australia. That’s why the home space is so important to me – it represents that personal space that you don’t get elsewhere. And the markets are always busy if not crowded but in many cases, they’re the only places to buy what you need. The upside of people concentration are the surprising finds you make along the way – like the avocado and banana vendor on the roadside on the way home or the omelette maker down the road from the university. He makes omelettes in a well-worn pan over a small fire on the ground fuelled with sticks, and sells bread and tea. You can sit down at his food stand and enjoy the shade of the tree and the breeze that does flow when in an open space.
Getting about has become somewhat difficult particularly when the weather turns. It was great walking from the hotel to my office but now I am on the other side of town. The university car that picked me up and dropped me off in the first month or so is no longer operable which means I have to take a ‘moto-taxi’ – those motorbikes that shuffle people everywhere. You get used to them after a while but there’s no ease when you need to dress appropriately for work, possibly walk into town, carry a backpack of necessary whatever for the day, all while endeavouring not to overheat. And when it rains - it’s now officially the rainy season – well, it’s impossible to get around. I simply move to plan B – stay at home, read, do whatever and wait until the rain eases.
My apartment is on the third (top) floor of the building. The ceiling is non-insulated and the roof is corrugated iron. When the heavens open, all I hear is a muted thunderous sound blocking out all other sounds – impossible to listen to the radio or to music. I would describe it as like living in a tin shed with the edge taken off the strident noise of the rain on the roof. But then, this is a dry area and there are only a couple of months of rain and I have yet to experience what the month of August brings in terms of downpours. But the cement distribution centre opposite partly floods as does the road while the water gives new life to plants and trees which give off a delectable fresh smell. Even the rocky outcrop in the distance becomes green – quite impressive in the barren landscape of a month or so ago.
In town, there are always people wherever you go. You simply can’t enjoy the personal space that you enjoy on a daily basis in Australia. That’s why the home space is so important to me – it represents that personal space that you don’t get elsewhere. And the markets are always busy if not crowded but in many cases, they’re the only places to buy what you need. The upside of people concentration are the surprising finds you make along the way – like the avocado and banana vendor on the roadside on the way home or the omelette maker down the road from the university. He makes omelettes in a well-worn pan over a small fire on the ground fuelled with sticks, and sells bread and tea. You can sit down at his food stand and enjoy the shade of the tree and the breeze that does flow when in an open space.
Monday, July 5, 2010
The tide has turned ...
Cultural studies tell us that the first three months of being in a new place makes up the ‘honeymoon’ phase. Yes, it’s true and then you go into a phase of denial and rejection. I was mentally prepared for this ‘depressive’ phase but not in the way it came about. The weather had been particularly hot and given that it had started to rain, although not a lot, there had been humidity in the air and just walking the few metres between the hotel and the office meant I arrived face and body bathed in perspiration. You feel rung out before you start and the only solution is to change.
Then you start to feel the pinch of being left out, of being left aside. There’s little inclusiveness here and in this male-dominated world, you need some sort of support mechanism to help you survive. From the VSO point of view, there are the volunteers but it doesn’t go hand-in-hand that putting a group of Westerners together, they’ll become buddies overnight. There was a Canadian girl I met in the beginning but she left a few weeks later. Then there was Georgette who, because of our work circumstances, I took a while to get to know. She’s returned to France, perhaps to return, she doesn’t know.
Circumstances being what they were, there was a guy who befriended me in the hotel who was attentive and concerned. When I moved, this same person was there to help in the final stages (I had already exhausted myself with getting the furniture assembled, cleaning the place, getting down to the market place to buy this and that to make the apartment space operable). Somehow, he managed to get away with my (second) computer (the one I was going to use at home), small electrical equipment and cords, brand new zoom camera and all my reserve money (the information I had received had said that there were no ATMs in Maroua). To add insult to injury, six days later, I notice my bank account down to zero, and I knew that this person was a professional con-man and defrauder.
A wonderful Cameroonian who is married to a Quebec girl and waiting for his Canadian visa to come through has been a great support. Then Kate came back a few days ago – she had returned to the US for a wedding. Kate’s on a Fulbright scholarship and is returning definitively in three weeks. She’s welcomed me several times at her place to use her internet connection. It’s good and I can phone out on Skype. At the office, the connection is really unreliable during the day, sometimes there is no connection, at others it is intermittent. To use Skype, I need a sustained good connection and this seems to be accessible only from early evening – good for taking to France and America, but Australia is then in the wee hours of the morning.
These events put me into a state of shock and initial trauma. I’m working my way through and beside the headaches of late, I sleep well at night. Talking to others, I have been told that theft and deception is commonplace and that if push comes to crunch, you let the intruders take what they demand rather than your life. On certain routes north of here, highway banditry is well known. Yet the people continue to live in their villages and surrounding areas. Life, for better or worse, goes on.
When a motorbike taxi driver tries to overcharge me because of the colour of my face, I tell him he is cheating me and to go away. I then take another bike at the right price. When you go down town, you slowly become aware of the higher prices that some vendors try to charge. It’s hard in the beginning and it’s quite an art to knock them down. The thing I learnt is to know someone reputable and get them to do the purchasing for you – it works well but is not always possible. There are those honorable souls, of course, and then there are a few fixed price stores (a fabric shop and the small grocery stores) but shopping is not a relaxing outing as in Australia, you have make an effort to meet the fray and always be a little on your guard.
So, I am grateful that this thief and con-man only took money and physical possessions. I am still here and able to tell the tale. You don’t go to the police because corruption is such that payments under the table would be required to undertake any and every stage of an investigation, and to what purpose? All I would wish is that the person amends his ways and learns the value of the work required to earn the money in the first place. But poverty is everywhere and gaining a quick buck becomes a ‘respectable profession’ in the eyes of the perpetrator. A pretext for a way of life that flaunts the law and puts others in fear.
Then you start to feel the pinch of being left out, of being left aside. There’s little inclusiveness here and in this male-dominated world, you need some sort of support mechanism to help you survive. From the VSO point of view, there are the volunteers but it doesn’t go hand-in-hand that putting a group of Westerners together, they’ll become buddies overnight. There was a Canadian girl I met in the beginning but she left a few weeks later. Then there was Georgette who, because of our work circumstances, I took a while to get to know. She’s returned to France, perhaps to return, she doesn’t know.
Circumstances being what they were, there was a guy who befriended me in the hotel who was attentive and concerned. When I moved, this same person was there to help in the final stages (I had already exhausted myself with getting the furniture assembled, cleaning the place, getting down to the market place to buy this and that to make the apartment space operable). Somehow, he managed to get away with my (second) computer (the one I was going to use at home), small electrical equipment and cords, brand new zoom camera and all my reserve money (the information I had received had said that there were no ATMs in Maroua). To add insult to injury, six days later, I notice my bank account down to zero, and I knew that this person was a professional con-man and defrauder.
A wonderful Cameroonian who is married to a Quebec girl and waiting for his Canadian visa to come through has been a great support. Then Kate came back a few days ago – she had returned to the US for a wedding. Kate’s on a Fulbright scholarship and is returning definitively in three weeks. She’s welcomed me several times at her place to use her internet connection. It’s good and I can phone out on Skype. At the office, the connection is really unreliable during the day, sometimes there is no connection, at others it is intermittent. To use Skype, I need a sustained good connection and this seems to be accessible only from early evening – good for taking to France and America, but Australia is then in the wee hours of the morning.
These events put me into a state of shock and initial trauma. I’m working my way through and beside the headaches of late, I sleep well at night. Talking to others, I have been told that theft and deception is commonplace and that if push comes to crunch, you let the intruders take what they demand rather than your life. On certain routes north of here, highway banditry is well known. Yet the people continue to live in their villages and surrounding areas. Life, for better or worse, goes on.
When a motorbike taxi driver tries to overcharge me because of the colour of my face, I tell him he is cheating me and to go away. I then take another bike at the right price. When you go down town, you slowly become aware of the higher prices that some vendors try to charge. It’s hard in the beginning and it’s quite an art to knock them down. The thing I learnt is to know someone reputable and get them to do the purchasing for you – it works well but is not always possible. There are those honorable souls, of course, and then there are a few fixed price stores (a fabric shop and the small grocery stores) but shopping is not a relaxing outing as in Australia, you have make an effort to meet the fray and always be a little on your guard.
So, I am grateful that this thief and con-man only took money and physical possessions. I am still here and able to tell the tale. You don’t go to the police because corruption is such that payments under the table would be required to undertake any and every stage of an investigation, and to what purpose? All I would wish is that the person amends his ways and learns the value of the work required to earn the money in the first place. But poverty is everywhere and gaining a quick buck becomes a ‘respectable profession’ in the eyes of the perpetrator. A pretext for a way of life that flaunts the law and puts others in fear.
Maroua, a potted history
The origins of the name of the city of Maroua can be traced to “Bi-Marva”, chief of the Guiziga people in the XVIII century. In the XVI and XVII centuries, Maroua was known by another name, that of the Guiziga chief, “Masfay” or “Matfay”. Maroua, a village in the Guiziga period, developed progressively during the Peuhl period. During the colonial period, Maroua was first ruled by the Germans (1902-1915) and then by the French (1915-1960). It is worth mentioning that after the First World War, Cameroon became a French-British protectorate under the League of Nations.
Maroua is an old urban centre dating from the first Guiziga village. Some think that the present-day pronunciation of the name Maroua comes from the Peuhl pronunciation “maruwa” of the Guiziga “marva”. The first Peuhl people came to the region in the XIX century and succeeded in ousting Bi-Marva’s successor Jomkoy who was killed in battle. In the Peuhl era, it was the first Iman and Lamido (Muslim political and religious leader), Doodibbo Hamman Damagaram, who became the true founder of the city of Maroua.
The first administrative, civil and military structures were built by the Germans. Under the French administration, the principal town artery Kakataré Avenue was widened, the main mosque was rebuilt and the central market place was established. However, just as under the German administration, the population was subjected to their new governors economically, politically and socially. After the Second World War, Maroua became the capital of the region and many of the local, non-Muslim peoples left the neighbouring plains and mountains to settle on the outskirts of the town. In 1952, the French constructed the steel “green bridge” over the Kaliao Mayo (river).
Cameroon achieved independence on 1st January 1960 as the Republic of Cameroon and on 1st October 1961, the British Southern Cameroons joined the Republic. As of this time, the country has had only two presidents: Ahmadou Ahidjo (1960-1982) and Paul Biya (1982 to present day). In the case of Maroua, independence brought many changes to the power of the Lamido, notably the establishment of an urban commune with a mayor at the head which reduced the powers of the Lamido - he would no longer have control over land. The town continued to grow particularly towards the east. Road works and drainage were carried out by the first mayor and in 1980, a second bridge, the “red bridge” was constructed over the Mayo Kalio.
When Paul Biya came to power in 1982, Maroua became the provincial capital of the Far North of Cameroon. The Renouveau (named after the then mayor) period brought changes and improvements to the city of Maroua, the first among which were the opening of the Renouveau Boulevard in 1985 which improved traffic flow, the widening of the roadway and infrastructure reorganization and restoration.
However, it wasn’t until 1992 that the roads around the market and certain main roads in the central district were sealed. There are virtually no sealed footpaths. Dust and sand blend with the roadsides the roads and the walking space is shared with workshop traders whose small area under cover leaves them no option but to work outside. Furniture makers, cobblers, plastic ware, goods and shackles all outside.
Geographical location
Maroua is the capital of the Diamaré department in the region of the Far North. It is situated between 10°35 N. and 14°20 E. The district of Maroua in 2005 covered an area of 1,453 km2. Maroua is one of the most important cities in the north of Cameroon. Its position at the northern tip of the country makes it a hub in proximity with the neighbouring countries of Tchad and Nigeria. Maroua is 1,285 kms. from the capital Yaoundé by road. The city is built at the meeting of two rivers, the Mayo Tsanhaga and the Mayo Kaliao and overall, the tree-lined main access roads are well laid out. The main roads are sealed but not well maintained (lots of potholes and jagged edges). Side streets are unmade and dusty.
The city of Maroua is located on a vast plain dominated by a mountain chain which sometimes serves as a natural division with other adjacent administrative units, especially to the north and west. The average altitude is 400 metres. To the north of the city is the Hosséré (Mt.) Maroua (722 m.) and to the south and south-west, the Hosséré (Mt.) Makabaï, Mirdjingré. The most important of the streams which traverse the city is the Mayo Tsanaga which crosses the south and south-east parts. All streams and rivers are dry in the dry season. The locals dig holes in the riverbed of the Kaliao Mayo which are used as bathing and washing holes. The riverbeds are ill-defined and water levels rise rapidly in the wet season.
Maroua has a Sahelian type climate. It is hot and dry in the dry season and milder (so they say) in the rainy season. The dry season lasts from October – May and the wet season from June – September. Rainfall is approximately 850 mm. in the south-west district and approximately 750 mm. towards the north. The wettest month is August while the months of June and July have irregular and unevenly distributed rainfalls. The average temperature is between 35o and 22o with the highest temperatures in the high 40’s in March-April and even May and the lowest temperatures in December-January. But even the locals say that the climate is hotter than before.
There are two main winds. The Harmattan blows during the dry season. It is a steady, dry wind that blows from the north to the east. It can be at times very strong and together with a dry mist, is the harbinger of colds for a lot of those living in Maroua. The Moussa is the other wind that blows from the south to the west. It is unsteady and humid and is the wind that determines the rainy season. There are virtually no winds from other directions.
Socio-economic environment
Living conditions in the city are not easy and each is out for himself. The economy of the city is characterized by both traditional and modern commercial activities. But nothing looks modern. There are some regular-type shops but most are lean-to’s or concrete walls covered over with corrugated iron. There is a large proportion of the population engaged in agricultural activities outside of the town.
There are three classes of main crops. Food-producing crops are made up of wet season sorghum and dry season sorghum, millet, corn, peanuts and white beans. Vegetables are also grown in the marshlands around the rivers – onions, tomatoes, carrots, lettuces, chile, gombo and eggplant. However, such crops are affected by irregular rainfall, climatic change and insufficient availability of land. Animal husbandry is the second economic activity in Maroua – cattle, sheep, goats, pigs, poultry, etc. However, Maroua’s demographic explosion has forced the population to spread onto pasture zones and animal corridors for agricultural purposes.
Trade is based mainly on manufactured products and agricultural products from Tchad or Nigeria, other departments or regions or from Maroua itself. The shops and grocery stores are mainly in and around the central market and sell cloth, construction materials, basic foodstuffs and personal toiletry items. There are also the informal traders - street vendors selling food, some clothing items and household wares. Imported goods are expensive so just buying cleaning products and basics such as olive oil and mustard adds up to a goodly amount.
Without a car or bike, the only option for getting around town is by “moto taxi” – motorbike taxis that literally flood the streets. Most are Chinese these days and the drivers have little respect for pedestrians trying to cross the road. It’s a question of venture out and cross when you can. Little buses (the combi-van type) travel to the villages and neighbouring departments.
Cotton was once an important crop in the area. Today, Maroua is known for its leatherwork and other hand crafted products. There are also small producers of construction materials, metalwork and joineries, building constructors, banks and bakeries (some of which make really good French baguettes and croissants).
Linguistic situation of Maroua.
Linguistic situation
There is a diverse range of languages spoken in Maroua. French and English have been the official languages of Cameroon since Independence in 1960. French is the language spoken in Maroua while English is little known. Of the numerous national languages spoken in Maroua and the twelve or so that have broadcast slots on local Cameroun radio, Fulfulde is the most widely spoken. Fulfulde was originally the language of the Peuhl people and is also used today by those of different ethnic origins. It is the vehicular language used in daily administrative and commercial activities and it is also the language used at home by many of non-Peuhl origin.
Maroua is an old urban centre dating from the first Guiziga village. Some think that the present-day pronunciation of the name Maroua comes from the Peuhl pronunciation “maruwa” of the Guiziga “marva”. The first Peuhl people came to the region in the XIX century and succeeded in ousting Bi-Marva’s successor Jomkoy who was killed in battle. In the Peuhl era, it was the first Iman and Lamido (Muslim political and religious leader), Doodibbo Hamman Damagaram, who became the true founder of the city of Maroua.
The first administrative, civil and military structures were built by the Germans. Under the French administration, the principal town artery Kakataré Avenue was widened, the main mosque was rebuilt and the central market place was established. However, just as under the German administration, the population was subjected to their new governors economically, politically and socially. After the Second World War, Maroua became the capital of the region and many of the local, non-Muslim peoples left the neighbouring plains and mountains to settle on the outskirts of the town. In 1952, the French constructed the steel “green bridge” over the Kaliao Mayo (river).
Cameroon achieved independence on 1st January 1960 as the Republic of Cameroon and on 1st October 1961, the British Southern Cameroons joined the Republic. As of this time, the country has had only two presidents: Ahmadou Ahidjo (1960-1982) and Paul Biya (1982 to present day). In the case of Maroua, independence brought many changes to the power of the Lamido, notably the establishment of an urban commune with a mayor at the head which reduced the powers of the Lamido - he would no longer have control over land. The town continued to grow particularly towards the east. Road works and drainage were carried out by the first mayor and in 1980, a second bridge, the “red bridge” was constructed over the Mayo Kalio.
When Paul Biya came to power in 1982, Maroua became the provincial capital of the Far North of Cameroon. The Renouveau (named after the then mayor) period brought changes and improvements to the city of Maroua, the first among which were the opening of the Renouveau Boulevard in 1985 which improved traffic flow, the widening of the roadway and infrastructure reorganization and restoration.
However, it wasn’t until 1992 that the roads around the market and certain main roads in the central district were sealed. There are virtually no sealed footpaths. Dust and sand blend with the roadsides the roads and the walking space is shared with workshop traders whose small area under cover leaves them no option but to work outside. Furniture makers, cobblers, plastic ware, goods and shackles all outside.
Geographical location
Maroua is the capital of the Diamaré department in the region of the Far North. It is situated between 10°35 N. and 14°20 E. The district of Maroua in 2005 covered an area of 1,453 km2. Maroua is one of the most important cities in the north of Cameroon. Its position at the northern tip of the country makes it a hub in proximity with the neighbouring countries of Tchad and Nigeria. Maroua is 1,285 kms. from the capital Yaoundé by road. The city is built at the meeting of two rivers, the Mayo Tsanhaga and the Mayo Kaliao and overall, the tree-lined main access roads are well laid out. The main roads are sealed but not well maintained (lots of potholes and jagged edges). Side streets are unmade and dusty.
The city of Maroua is located on a vast plain dominated by a mountain chain which sometimes serves as a natural division with other adjacent administrative units, especially to the north and west. The average altitude is 400 metres. To the north of the city is the Hosséré (Mt.) Maroua (722 m.) and to the south and south-west, the Hosséré (Mt.) Makabaï, Mirdjingré. The most important of the streams which traverse the city is the Mayo Tsanaga which crosses the south and south-east parts. All streams and rivers are dry in the dry season. The locals dig holes in the riverbed of the Kaliao Mayo which are used as bathing and washing holes. The riverbeds are ill-defined and water levels rise rapidly in the wet season.
Maroua has a Sahelian type climate. It is hot and dry in the dry season and milder (so they say) in the rainy season. The dry season lasts from October – May and the wet season from June – September. Rainfall is approximately 850 mm. in the south-west district and approximately 750 mm. towards the north. The wettest month is August while the months of June and July have irregular and unevenly distributed rainfalls. The average temperature is between 35o and 22o with the highest temperatures in the high 40’s in March-April and even May and the lowest temperatures in December-January. But even the locals say that the climate is hotter than before.
There are two main winds. The Harmattan blows during the dry season. It is a steady, dry wind that blows from the north to the east. It can be at times very strong and together with a dry mist, is the harbinger of colds for a lot of those living in Maroua. The Moussa is the other wind that blows from the south to the west. It is unsteady and humid and is the wind that determines the rainy season. There are virtually no winds from other directions.
Socio-economic environment
Living conditions in the city are not easy and each is out for himself. The economy of the city is characterized by both traditional and modern commercial activities. But nothing looks modern. There are some regular-type shops but most are lean-to’s or concrete walls covered over with corrugated iron. There is a large proportion of the population engaged in agricultural activities outside of the town.
There are three classes of main crops. Food-producing crops are made up of wet season sorghum and dry season sorghum, millet, corn, peanuts and white beans. Vegetables are also grown in the marshlands around the rivers – onions, tomatoes, carrots, lettuces, chile, gombo and eggplant. However, such crops are affected by irregular rainfall, climatic change and insufficient availability of land. Animal husbandry is the second economic activity in Maroua – cattle, sheep, goats, pigs, poultry, etc. However, Maroua’s demographic explosion has forced the population to spread onto pasture zones and animal corridors for agricultural purposes.
Trade is based mainly on manufactured products and agricultural products from Tchad or Nigeria, other departments or regions or from Maroua itself. The shops and grocery stores are mainly in and around the central market and sell cloth, construction materials, basic foodstuffs and personal toiletry items. There are also the informal traders - street vendors selling food, some clothing items and household wares. Imported goods are expensive so just buying cleaning products and basics such as olive oil and mustard adds up to a goodly amount.
Without a car or bike, the only option for getting around town is by “moto taxi” – motorbike taxis that literally flood the streets. Most are Chinese these days and the drivers have little respect for pedestrians trying to cross the road. It’s a question of venture out and cross when you can. Little buses (the combi-van type) travel to the villages and neighbouring departments.
Cotton was once an important crop in the area. Today, Maroua is known for its leatherwork and other hand crafted products. There are also small producers of construction materials, metalwork and joineries, building constructors, banks and bakeries (some of which make really good French baguettes and croissants).
Linguistic situation of Maroua.
Linguistic situation
There is a diverse range of languages spoken in Maroua. French and English have been the official languages of Cameroon since Independence in 1960. French is the language spoken in Maroua while English is little known. Of the numerous national languages spoken in Maroua and the twelve or so that have broadcast slots on local Cameroun radio, Fulfulde is the most widely spoken. Fulfulde was originally the language of the Peuhl people and is also used today by those of different ethnic origins. It is the vehicular language used in daily administrative and commercial activities and it is also the language used at home by many of non-Peuhl origin.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
This is the heat they talk about
The last few weeks have been really hot, I mean 45 degrees plus and the nights hot too. I am fortunate to be in air-conditioning but the drain on the electricity is such that often the power simply goes out – not only no power but also no internet (slow at the best of times) until things fire up again.
The nights in the garden have been more than balmy – hot, with perspiration running down my face. The locals say it should have started to rain by now, but not so. We have had a couple of heavy showers but they only served to raise the heat from the earth. On the weekends, I walk to the centre of town and to the apartment to see how work is progressing. In whatever way, one needs to face the heat and not flee from it although I must say, all in moderation...
I’ve been out of Maroua to two towns where I was involved in student assessment. There are hamlets and villages of thatched, mud-brick huts along the way and the landscape is dry. People walk the pot-holed roads, cycle or travel on motorbike and there’s always the possibility of cattle crossing the road. The local food is good – simple and tasty – and African hospitality is such that our hosts had something organised to share in the local tavern at the end of our assessment tasks. Conviviality is very important here and people do spend time together – chatting, waiting, sharing.
Then back in town, life goes on in the heat. And everyone is feeling it – a common form of greeting is “how are you going in the heat?”. I try to sit outside in the mornings and evenings to acclimatise, so to speak, and then there’s the pool, the precious swimming pool where the air seems to be that much cooler. I think it’s like living in a cold climate only in reverse. An air-conditioned office is an agreeable temperature haven just as a heated office is in cold and icy climes – a real plus for settling down to work!
The nights in the garden have been more than balmy – hot, with perspiration running down my face. The locals say it should have started to rain by now, but not so. We have had a couple of heavy showers but they only served to raise the heat from the earth. On the weekends, I walk to the centre of town and to the apartment to see how work is progressing. In whatever way, one needs to face the heat and not flee from it although I must say, all in moderation...
I’ve been out of Maroua to two towns where I was involved in student assessment. There are hamlets and villages of thatched, mud-brick huts along the way and the landscape is dry. People walk the pot-holed roads, cycle or travel on motorbike and there’s always the possibility of cattle crossing the road. The local food is good – simple and tasty – and African hospitality is such that our hosts had something organised to share in the local tavern at the end of our assessment tasks. Conviviality is very important here and people do spend time together – chatting, waiting, sharing.
Then back in town, life goes on in the heat. And everyone is feeling it – a common form of greeting is “how are you going in the heat?”. I try to sit outside in the mornings and evenings to acclimatise, so to speak, and then there’s the pool, the precious swimming pool where the air seems to be that much cooler. I think it’s like living in a cold climate only in reverse. An air-conditioned office is an agreeable temperature haven just as a heated office is in cold and icy climes – a real plus for settling down to work!
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Life goes on
For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been lodged in the hotel. A pleasant change for finally my room at the mission was booked in advance – it was certainly the time to move. I say ‘the’ hotel for everything concerning the university seems to happen in this hotel, which is almost opposite on the other side of the road. After the Presentation of Oaths ceremony in February, the Rector hosted a cocktail for all participants (academic and non-academic staff) and the pool at this hotel has been my repose for exercise and a mental break. So now I can swim to my heart’s content although this past week, tummy upsets had me feeling somewhat weak and I wasn’t able to enjoy the water as much as I would have liked.
The skies here are finally clearing after nearly a week of dry mist mixed with an enormous amount of dust brought down from Chad by the Harmattan wind. When this northerly blows hard, you have to protect your airways – those pictures you see of desert dwellers with cloth wrapped around their faces start to have real meaning! The locals say that the wind and quantity of dust is exceptional but then they say, climate change is affecting everything. Last weekend, the dust cover in my office was such that I took my computer to the hotel to work. The cleaner got to my office on Monday and finally I was able to reinstall . . . Everyone was in the same position but we finally got back to our desks.
One of the joys of being at the hotel is being able to sit outside in the garden at night and enjoy a simple evening meal. The nights are so balmy here and generally calm and clear. To see the trees behind the garden walls and feel embraced by the night sky is so calming and worlds away from the hustle and bustle of the street. I am so very grateful to have this moment of transition from one place of living to another. It gives me another perspective on life here and I feel supported while waiting to move into my apartment. It’s all happening and the move is not very far away.
Perhaps some photos to show you a little of Maroua. There are many more I would like to take but I have given much time to settling in to the university and less, it must be said, to getting to know my environs. However, I’m feeling at home in Maroua and learning much about its people and history.
The skies here are finally clearing after nearly a week of dry mist mixed with an enormous amount of dust brought down from Chad by the Harmattan wind. When this northerly blows hard, you have to protect your airways – those pictures you see of desert dwellers with cloth wrapped around their faces start to have real meaning! The locals say that the wind and quantity of dust is exceptional but then they say, climate change is affecting everything. Last weekend, the dust cover in my office was such that I took my computer to the hotel to work. The cleaner got to my office on Monday and finally I was able to reinstall . . . Everyone was in the same position but we finally got back to our desks.
One of the joys of being at the hotel is being able to sit outside in the garden at night and enjoy a simple evening meal. The nights are so balmy here and generally calm and clear. To see the trees behind the garden walls and feel embraced by the night sky is so calming and worlds away from the hustle and bustle of the street. I am so very grateful to have this moment of transition from one place of living to another. It gives me another perspective on life here and I feel supported while waiting to move into my apartment. It’s all happening and the move is not very far away.
Perhaps some photos to show you a little of Maroua. There are many more I would like to take but I have given much time to settling in to the university and less, it must be said, to getting to know my environs. However, I’m feeling at home in Maroua and learning much about its people and history.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Speaking of challenges
Finally in Maroua and settling in at the university at the Ecole Normale Supérieure (Higher Teachers’ Training College). Perhaps the first challenge to speak of is not having been able to access the Internet to update my blog. There is so much happening here and everyone is doing their best but sometimes the network is down and at others, technicians have been working on it to strengthen the signal. So, I’ll update the blog when I can. Still trying to get some sort of routine established and with unexpected happenings being more the norm than otherwise, this is a little more difficult than you would expect.
Maroua is a good place to be. Some say it’s more like a big village than a city. It’s flat, dusty and spread out but not so big that you can’t walk the major part in an hour or two. There are no high rise to mar the horizon, no supermarkets, in fact, nothing much that reminds one of the packaged, commercially driven pace of what so many elsewhere take for granted. The buildings are concrete and many of the small dwellings of mud brick. The back laneways lead to a labyrinth of courtyards, dwellings and shelters where people live. All is dust and dirt and the depth of the gutters along the main sealed road shows the volume of water that flows when it does rain. But that’s a way off yet and until it does, it’s dust and sometimes a breeze which although pleasant, in town raises the dust.
I’m still at the Baptist Mission where I’ve been lodged since arriving in Maroua. All are very friendly and helpful there and I’m able to prepare a simple meal, hostel style. My stay there has been extended waiting for more permanent accommodation to come available. With the opening of the university, Maroua has suddenly become a university town with the concomitant needs that that implies. Within the past year, there have been 10,000 more people to accommodate, students and university staff, and this pressure has put housing at a premium. So with much patience, we will see what comes about.
Before ending, let me tell you about the ‘moto taxis’ or motorbike taxis that take everyone everywhere. There’s a plethora of them, mostly Chinese the low cost of which has seen ever so many on the roads. Observance of road rules seems sometimes non-existent and pedestrians have to learn to dash and dart in between these two-wheeled movers to cross the road. Even cars have to toot to show they’re there and get the bikes to move to one side. I’ve been fortunate to date to have had most considerate motorbike taxi drivers and when you consider the number of bikes around and potholes in the roads, the calm and reflective riding of your taxi man is all important. The other day, I was taken by bike to see the local tannery on the other side of the (dry) river – two on the bike plus driver. This is not unusual. You even see a child seated in front of the rider and another in front of a female passenger behind. If it’s not a child, you may see a goat – now that really looks like a happy family.
Maroua is a good place to be. Some say it’s more like a big village than a city. It’s flat, dusty and spread out but not so big that you can’t walk the major part in an hour or two. There are no high rise to mar the horizon, no supermarkets, in fact, nothing much that reminds one of the packaged, commercially driven pace of what so many elsewhere take for granted. The buildings are concrete and many of the small dwellings of mud brick. The back laneways lead to a labyrinth of courtyards, dwellings and shelters where people live. All is dust and dirt and the depth of the gutters along the main sealed road shows the volume of water that flows when it does rain. But that’s a way off yet and until it does, it’s dust and sometimes a breeze which although pleasant, in town raises the dust.
I’m still at the Baptist Mission where I’ve been lodged since arriving in Maroua. All are very friendly and helpful there and I’m able to prepare a simple meal, hostel style. My stay there has been extended waiting for more permanent accommodation to come available. With the opening of the university, Maroua has suddenly become a university town with the concomitant needs that that implies. Within the past year, there have been 10,000 more people to accommodate, students and university staff, and this pressure has put housing at a premium. So with much patience, we will see what comes about.
Before ending, let me tell you about the ‘moto taxis’ or motorbike taxis that take everyone everywhere. There’s a plethora of them, mostly Chinese the low cost of which has seen ever so many on the roads. Observance of road rules seems sometimes non-existent and pedestrians have to learn to dash and dart in between these two-wheeled movers to cross the road. Even cars have to toot to show they’re there and get the bikes to move to one side. I’ve been fortunate to date to have had most considerate motorbike taxi drivers and when you consider the number of bikes around and potholes in the roads, the calm and reflective riding of your taxi man is all important. The other day, I was taken by bike to see the local tannery on the other side of the (dry) river – two on the bike plus driver. This is not unusual. You even see a child seated in front of the rider and another in front of a female passenger behind. If it’s not a child, you may see a goat – now that really looks like a happy family.
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