23 mai 2011
Note: I'm going to preface this story by commenting that, the night before this event happened, I was bragging to Essaya about how I still haven't gotten sick.
We shall call this blog entry Saltaka. So four times a year, the Cameroonian government works alongside Unicef, WHO, etc to bring a grauity-weekend of vaccinations to all children 0-5 years of age. I helped out a bit last time they had the all-polio vaccination campaign. I went with two friends, Etienne and Yves, to the next town over, and while they dropped the liquid vaccine into kids mouths, I used a black marker on the kids' pinky fingers to mark that they had been vaccinated. This time, I helped Essaya with paperwork galore two days in a row. The first day, we were at the center. That is the greatest number of people I have ever seen there in one day. While Essaya vaccinated child after child (penta in the arm, BCG in the forearm, yellow fever and measles in the thighs, polio and vitamin A drops in the mouth, chew the mebendazole tablet to de-worm) I recorded all the information about the child in both our registry, their medical booklet, and the chart from the state. It was stressful but crazy and for, like the first time at the hospital since being here, I felt like I was truly needed and helping. The second day of the campaign: Saltaka.
So Essaya and I are supposed to head out from the center at 8 am...but we leave at 10 am. No big deal. Essaya picks me up from my house. I am wearing a nice long dress and head scarf because I want to make a good first impression on vaccination day, right? Nope. Essaya, for the first and most likely last time since this is a pretty conservative place, says to me "You should probably change into pants. We are going en brousse brousse". You don't have to ask me twice. I change into pants, a t-shirt and bandana. We have a cooler of vaccinations, needles, cotton, my backpack with our raincoats, the register book for the center, and extra medical booklets in case kids need them. We are loaded up on the motorcycle and ready to go. We head out on the normal goudron (paved road) but in the next village over, locate the secret path that leads us out en brousse. I had been out the road a bit before the first time, but where we go....no motorcycle should ever have to go. The rain has washed away nearly all the dirt that was once useful for traction, and we are scaling a huge mountain of easy-to-fall rocks. Half the time, I jump off the back of the motorcycle so Essaya can maneuver up the hills and steep turns. I run after/beside the motorcycle and hop back on when the road looks like it evens out for a bit. With each meter we climb in altitude, the climate changes a bit. When we reach the top of the mountain, I can't believe how different the climate is from what we left at the paved road. It is breath-taking up here. Everything everything is green and lush. We go down the other side of the mountain, and stumble upon the village. The trip has taken us over an hour. In the village, there are about ten houses that I can see. Everyone seems to be home because they all run out of their concessions and gather round the motorcycle. Nope, we're not in Saltaka, they say. This is Falingo. You've still got away to go before Saltaka. No worries. We vaccinate all the kids we can in Falingo, accept some red bananas (what never seen those before) as gifts and head out again. We drive for another twenty minutes or so on a windy dirt road that passes field after field of lush green vegetation and finally stumble upon Saltaka.
Saltaka is the Garden of Eden. I am not joking. Field after field of green as far as you can see. Cows in pastures. Healthy cows. Not the mangly gangly cows in my village down on the paved road. These cows are bigggg and their ribs aren't popping out. Farmers out in the fields, just beginning the planting for the year. There is the smell of spring and dirt and bananas everywhere. Papaya, mango and banana trees line the dirt road leading up to the chef's house. All of the houses on the dirt road are immaculate. How do these people have such nice homes living way out here en brousse when down on the main road the houses are falling apart? There is no trash anywhere. I'm pretty sure it's heaven on earth.
We arrive at the chef's house, and of course, get invited in for lunch, which is yummy couscous with mushroom sauce. The chef is a cute little old man who claims to be 102 (who knows, it could be true) and had three wives. After we eat some couscous, Essaya and I sit at his house and he has people bring out milk. Ok, I have not drank milk since...October. I didn't drink it in Niger because it can carry tuberculosis and a whole host of other creatures if it's not prepared properly and freshly. So the chef's first wife brings it out, and I'm like Essaya you don't understand I physically cannot drink this. I haven't had milk in Africa yet. He Just starts laughing, "Well you said you haven't gotten sick yet, right?" Point well taken. So Essaya and I share the cup of milk. And then someone brings out honey. Which is amazing. And we drink/eat it by the spoonful. Then the chef says in Fulfulde, "Because a beautiful woman has come here today, we are going to celebrate and drink a lot of milk". So someone brings out more hot milk. Essaya continues to laugh. I'm like dude you're the one of the motorcycle in front of me when I get sick. I drink the whole glass. And more milk. I'm like you have got to be joking......Then it's done. For now. The chef sends someone to round up all the kids in the village.
Two and half hours later, a ton of paperwork, and a huge headache (from the tuberculosis or the vaccinations I'm not sure), all the kids in Saltaka are vaccinated. The biggest observation I have about the kids there is that all of them appear so healthy. They are all clean, big and strong. None of them appear sick. Is this what happens when you live out in the middle of nowhere on a plateau and there is always fresh water and fresh milk and honey by the spoonful? Where do I sign up? I tell Essaya, after all the mamas and kiddos have left, that I want to come here and stay for awhile. The people here are all Fulbe; they only speak Fulfulde. Um, yes, this is where I need to come for two weeks to learn Fulfulde where there aren't three other languages for me to get confused with. Essaya says we can come back and visit to get to know them better and discuss that in the future. Ok. Fine.
Of course, before we head out, we take a tour of the Chef's house/ concession mansion. The houses are immaculate and huge and the people are wonderful (wife number two says when I visit again we can go and milk the cows um yes mi yidi mi yidi doodee i want to a lot). We sit down with the chef one more and drink....can you guess it?.....another huge glass of milk. "If you don't get sick after this", Essaya says, "you will never get sick here". We thank the chef and his whole family, load up the motorcycle and make the trek back up then down the mountain again. Best Day thus far in Cameroon and debatebly most beautiful place I've been in Africa to date. Saltaka, I will see you again soon.
P.S. I didn't get sick from the milk. At all. Something is wrong with me.
Note: I'm going to preface this story by commenting that, the night before this event happened, I was bragging to Essaya about how I still haven't gotten sick.
We shall call this blog entry Saltaka. So four times a year, the Cameroonian government works alongside Unicef, WHO, etc to bring a grauity-weekend of vaccinations to all children 0-5 years of age. I helped out a bit last time they had the all-polio vaccination campaign. I went with two friends, Etienne and Yves, to the next town over, and while they dropped the liquid vaccine into kids mouths, I used a black marker on the kids' pinky fingers to mark that they had been vaccinated. This time, I helped Essaya with paperwork galore two days in a row. The first day, we were at the center. That is the greatest number of people I have ever seen there in one day. While Essaya vaccinated child after child (penta in the arm, BCG in the forearm, yellow fever and measles in the thighs, polio and vitamin A drops in the mouth, chew the mebendazole tablet to de-worm) I recorded all the information about the child in both our registry, their medical booklet, and the chart from the state. It was stressful but crazy and for, like the first time at the hospital since being here, I felt like I was truly needed and helping. The second day of the campaign: Saltaka.
So Essaya and I are supposed to head out from the center at 8 am...but we leave at 10 am. No big deal. Essaya picks me up from my house. I am wearing a nice long dress and head scarf because I want to make a good first impression on vaccination day, right? Nope. Essaya, for the first and most likely last time since this is a pretty conservative place, says to me "You should probably change into pants. We are going en brousse brousse". You don't have to ask me twice. I change into pants, a t-shirt and bandana. We have a cooler of vaccinations, needles, cotton, my backpack with our raincoats, the register book for the center, and extra medical booklets in case kids need them. We are loaded up on the motorcycle and ready to go. We head out on the normal goudron (paved road) but in the next village over, locate the secret path that leads us out en brousse. I had been out the road a bit before the first time, but where we go....no motorcycle should ever have to go. The rain has washed away nearly all the dirt that was once useful for traction, and we are scaling a huge mountain of easy-to-fall rocks. Half the time, I jump off the back of the motorcycle so Essaya can maneuver up the hills and steep turns. I run after/beside the motorcycle and hop back on when the road looks like it evens out for a bit. With each meter we climb in altitude, the climate changes a bit. When we reach the top of the mountain, I can't believe how different the climate is from what we left at the paved road. It is breath-taking up here. Everything everything is green and lush. We go down the other side of the mountain, and stumble upon the village. The trip has taken us over an hour. In the village, there are about ten houses that I can see. Everyone seems to be home because they all run out of their concessions and gather round the motorcycle. Nope, we're not in Saltaka, they say. This is Falingo. You've still got away to go before Saltaka. No worries. We vaccinate all the kids we can in Falingo, accept some red bananas (what never seen those before) as gifts and head out again. We drive for another twenty minutes or so on a windy dirt road that passes field after field of lush green vegetation and finally stumble upon Saltaka.
Saltaka is the Garden of Eden. I am not joking. Field after field of green as far as you can see. Cows in pastures. Healthy cows. Not the mangly gangly cows in my village down on the paved road. These cows are bigggg and their ribs aren't popping out. Farmers out in the fields, just beginning the planting for the year. There is the smell of spring and dirt and bananas everywhere. Papaya, mango and banana trees line the dirt road leading up to the chef's house. All of the houses on the dirt road are immaculate. How do these people have such nice homes living way out here en brousse when down on the main road the houses are falling apart? There is no trash anywhere. I'm pretty sure it's heaven on earth.
We arrive at the chef's house, and of course, get invited in for lunch, which is yummy couscous with mushroom sauce. The chef is a cute little old man who claims to be 102 (who knows, it could be true) and had three wives. After we eat some couscous, Essaya and I sit at his house and he has people bring out milk. Ok, I have not drank milk since...October. I didn't drink it in Niger because it can carry tuberculosis and a whole host of other creatures if it's not prepared properly and freshly. So the chef's first wife brings it out, and I'm like Essaya you don't understand I physically cannot drink this. I haven't had milk in Africa yet. He Just starts laughing, "Well you said you haven't gotten sick yet, right?" Point well taken. So Essaya and I share the cup of milk. And then someone brings out honey. Which is amazing. And we drink/eat it by the spoonful. Then the chef says in Fulfulde, "Because a beautiful woman has come here today, we are going to celebrate and drink a lot of milk". So someone brings out more hot milk. Essaya continues to laugh. I'm like dude you're the one of the motorcycle in front of me when I get sick. I drink the whole glass. And more milk. I'm like you have got to be joking......Then it's done. For now. The chef sends someone to round up all the kids in the village.
Two and half hours later, a ton of paperwork, and a huge headache (from the tuberculosis or the vaccinations I'm not sure), all the kids in Saltaka are vaccinated. The biggest observation I have about the kids there is that all of them appear so healthy. They are all clean, big and strong. None of them appear sick. Is this what happens when you live out in the middle of nowhere on a plateau and there is always fresh water and fresh milk and honey by the spoonful? Where do I sign up? I tell Essaya, after all the mamas and kiddos have left, that I want to come here and stay for awhile. The people here are all Fulbe; they only speak Fulfulde. Um, yes, this is where I need to come for two weeks to learn Fulfulde where there aren't three other languages for me to get confused with. Essaya says we can come back and visit to get to know them better and discuss that in the future. Ok. Fine.
Of course, before we head out, we take a tour of the Chef's house/ concession mansion. The houses are immaculate and huge and the people are wonderful (wife number two says when I visit again we can go and milk the cows um yes mi yidi mi yidi doodee i want to a lot). We sit down with the chef one more and drink....can you guess it?.....another huge glass of milk. "If you don't get sick after this", Essaya says, "you will never get sick here". We thank the chef and his whole family, load up the motorcycle and make the trek back up then down the mountain again. Best Day thus far in Cameroon and debatebly most beautiful place I've been in Africa to date. Saltaka, I will see you again soon.
P.S. I didn't get sick from the milk. At all. Something is wrong with me.
Pullo debbo no yiidi kosam!
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