Resignation

Recently a friend emailed me and she pointed out a contrast between my recent correspondence and that when I first arrived in Cameroon. At first I had given the impression of being completely engaged in my situation, whether positively or negatively, yet somehow I seemed to have become disengaged from all of it - the politics, the work, the social life. I think that to some extent this is true. I've stopped writing here regularly not because of any inherent change in what is happening day to day - what's going on in my life and the lives of others in Yaounde and Cameroon in general has not become any more or less interesting since I got here - rather it is the way I relate to it all that has changed.

Part of this can be put down to the fact that upon arriving in a new place everything seems new and interesting, your senses are alerted by the change, you are forced to think about different things, and you are equally forced to think about familiar things in different ways. After a while that is bound to fade as unfamiliar sights, sounds, thoughts and situations become familiar, and I think that is a natural process (whatever that means). Yet there is an element of it that is unnatural too. There is nothing 'natural' or automatic about my disengagement from my work, for example. It is partly based on real, identifiable discrepancies between my own values, methods and expectations and those of my employers. It is also partly based on other feelings, drives and reactions that I have not (yet?) been able to identify with any degree of sureness. But it is there, and it has become increasingly apparent that it is not going to go away.

The upshot of contemplating these things among others (I will go into more detail in a less public space) is that I have resigned from my position here and will be back in the UK some time in July. In some ways it's sad; it feels too soon to be preparing to come home, there are certain people I will not want to leave, and in fact I am less and less sure that 'home' - in terms of a country or city - is an idea that particularly has resonance at the moment. But there are also so many things to look forward to. I am already looking forward to seeing my family, and it will be good to reconnect with friends around the country and maybe beyond. And it will be good to be able to look forward again, bettered by these experiences and ready to make positive choices for the coming months and years.

I had originally started this entry with just a few little missives about things that have been happening in my life and in Cameroon, but it was too dull to leave as it was. For the sake of posterity, however, here is a slightly modified outline of some of the things that Cameroon and I have been up to recently:

A few weeks ago I went on a crazy run through the outskirts of Yaounde called the 'Hash'. They do it every week in a different part of the region and make a game out of it by putting markers for you to follow, some leading to dead ends and others leading to the right route, which on this occasion led through small rivers, fields of crops, up and down remote muddy hills and through small villages. By the end of it I was a mess and had been bitten/scratched on my legs more than any man should, but the route was beautiful enough to make it worth the effort. A strange feature was that many of the young children we ran past were shouting hello to us in Chinese and shouting 'le Chinois / la Chinoise' instead of the usual 'le blanc / la blanche'.

Speaking of which, it seems that the Chinese are coming to Cameroon, if not quite en masse then something close. A Chinese firm has just won (with heavy government involvement) a huge contract to develop several sports stadiums around the country over the next few years, and another Chinese firm is expected to win the contract for a new deep sea port development. Quite what Cameroon will do with these stadia once they are built I'm not sure, as upkeep and full utilisation of resources are not strengths of this nation. Yaounde already has a large stadium and it certainly wouldn't be amiss to wonder if there aren't more pressing needs to be addressed with this kind of monetary investment. On the bright side, it should create some jobs (although the majority of workers will be Chinese people shipped in to do the job) and it's surely better than nothing, but it's somewhat painful to see such prioritisation when you are in a country with 240,000 children under 17 orphaned by HIV/Aids, poor economic infrastructure, insufficient and inadequate schools and hospitals, and low-paid, corrupt public sector employees. The new deep-sea port, intended for Kribi, will probably have quite an impact if it goes ahead, as it will divert a lot of resources and commercial activity from the current commercial hub and biggest city - Douala - and will drastically change the character of Kribi which is a fairly small fishing town.

More recently I went to the Manengouba mountains with some friends for a long weekend. It was really stunning and nice to get away from 'the city' (I never thought I'd think of Yaounde in that way, but there it is). We stayed in Villa Luciole, which I'd highly recommend for its beauty and home grown food, if not for its 'guides' who left us stranded at the top of a hill for about an hour without telling us where they were going or how long for. At least we had plenty of time to take pictures (see above and below):

Again, it was hard to believe (a) that this is the same country as the dry, arid north and (b) that such beautiful, lush landscape could not provide a basis for greater prosperity. Call these simplistic thoughts if you will, but the variety of Cameroon's landscapes and the extent of its underdevelopment are two things that will stay firmly impressed in my mind as long as I am here, and probably for a good while after. At times it almost felt like we were in rural England, as we meandered through rolling green hills past grazing cattle.

Speaking of cattle, one day recently when I was walking to work I found my path blocked by a herd of said animals. In many places this wouldn't have been surprising, but this was in the relatively upmarket Bastos area where expats live and the roads are paved (no coincidence in those two things of course). Normally all you get is streams of yellow taxis and 4x4s owned by NGOs and international organisations. Speaking of which...

On Friday there was a function (party) at the British High Commissioner's residence (house) in honour of the Queen's birthday. I knew it was likely to be a fancy affair having been informed to wear a suit, but the row of huge, shiny, expensive vehicles lined up in front of the place was really something to behold. Many of them had small diplomatic flags just to the side of the front lights - I saw a fair few Union Jacks as well as the Cameroonian and American alternatives. I had no idea there were that many big, costly cars in all of Cameroon. To see such a conspicuous display of wealth in one place was quite strange. The party itself was good fun as there was a fantastically well-stocked free bar and more or less every expat I know was there. National anthems were sung, food was eaten, drinks were drunk, and the obligitary toast to Paul Biya (President of Cameroon) was met with a gratifying silence. I enjoyed that! Perhaps the Cameroonians present were embarrassed to salute Biya in the presence of so many foreigners, knowing what we all think of him, or perhaps they just weren't feeling that nationalistic. It was the Queen's birthday after all.

Speaking of nationalistic Cameroonians (hmm, starting to struggle now), we went to see the national team play against Cape Verde recently. It was fun even if Cameroon's victory was fairly predictable from the start. Here's a picture of Eto'o, Cameroon's best and most loved player, who could probably get a round of applause for farting they like him that much. Incidentally, Cameroon are up to 13th in the most recent world rankings - impressive.

Constitutional Amendments: game over

"The Peoples' Representatives in Cameroon's National Assembly last Thursday, 10 April 2008, formally endorsed the bill amending and supplementing certain sections of the 1996 Constitution. As the adopted bill awaits promulgation into law by the Head of State, the uncertainties that surrounded its sailing through parliament can now be laid to rest."

So, after all of that, what seemed inconceivable just a month or so ago - that the constitutional amendments would go through with barely a murmur of protest - has happened. So Biya doesn't have to stand down in 2011 any more, and he lives to fight (rig) another election.

If there is an introductory course in Dictatorship then this should be in the textbook.


Dictatorship 101

Q1: You are facing understandable anger at the economic malaise, waste of resources and endemic corruption that have characterised your excessive period in power, what do you do?

A1: Kill and imprison protestors, shut down opposition media, increase police presence on streets, fill state-controlled media with pro-government propaganda and make a few showy concessions to keep people quiet (e.g. put up public sector pay, arrest a few politicians on corruption charges).

Teacher's comments: Very good. This is a tried and tested method that almost never fails. I'm not sure that you needed to make those concessions, you probably could have got away with just the brutality and media control. Still, it might make your life a little easier, so why not. A good answer overall. B+


Q2: The last time you amended the constitution to give yourself extra time in power, you committed yourself to leave office in 2011. However, you like being in charge: you get lots of money and prestige and can line the palms of all your friends, family and associates with dirty money. Besides, the thought of retirement doesn't appeal to you. There's only one golf course in Yaounde and that's a bit rubbish. What should you do?

A2: Distract population (see answer to Q1) and amend constitution while nobody's looking so that you can stand for re-election in 2011. Then rig election according to standard procedure.

Teacher's comments: Excellent, a perfect answer. This is where those concessions really come in useful. You are well on your way to becoming a model dictator! A+

Kousseri / Chadian Refugees

Last week I travelled to the Far North of the country, over 1500km away, to see the work my organisation is doing with the 8,000 or so refugees who remain in Cameroon from the original 30,000+ who fled fighting in the Chadian capital N'Djamena, just across the border, in February.

A representative from our organisation has been up there setting up educational and recreational facilities for the children in the camp with the support of UNICEF. We also secured funding from the British High Commission in Cameroon to provide clothing for the 2,000 children in the camp (see my earlier post - my agonising over what items to include in the proposal came to nothing as we were forced by UNHCR to change it anyway!), and used money from our own organisation at an international level to provide 32,000 blocks of soap, thousands of water pots and some sardines.

Going to a refugee camp for the first time I had certain expectations about what it would be like. However it was both more normal and more surreal to me than I had been able to imagine. On arriving at the camp I immediately participated in a distribution of school books to young children. I was actually quite shocked by the commotion when we drove up with the boxes of books in our 4x4. Kids running everywhere, and a cacophany of noise, followed by clamouring and shouting as we took the boxes from the car. Order of sorts was more or less maintained and people seemed to perceive and respect a basic boundary between 'us' and 'them'. But there was a constant slight tension. Some people would try to sneak in, parents would shout at members of our staff about various things, crowds would gather outside the makeshift classrooms where we were distributing the materials, being quite literally fended off with a stick at times. One of my colleagues took pictures of me giving out books and they're pretty funny to look at - you can see that at the time I was very uncomfortable and unable to compute what was going on. Posing for photos felt totally wrong, and the whole situation was a little overwhelming, so I have this glum, accusatory expression, while pretending to give a book to a child who is eagerly waiting for it.

Of course there was a positive feeling involved. Seeing the pleasure some of the children got just from receiving something new and shiny was heartwarming, and any serious moments of reflection would lead me to see that this was a positive thing to be doing. But it was tempered by evident problems with what was happening. Some children had their books stolen immediately after leaving, others were the wrong age for the books they were given, some were probably inadvertantly missed out, some would take the books but not go to class, and so on.

In any case, those first moments were very surreal, more so than I could have expected. It felt like stepping into a news report. It's sad in a way that my conception of surreality here had its parameters set by television, but that's just the way it is I suppose.

But it was also interesting how quickly that surreality broke down, to reveal more normality than I expected too. Just people, of certain kinds with certain concerns, needs, priorities, expectations, strengths and weaknesses, trying to get on with their lives and do the best for themselves and their families in whatever way they thought was best. Just like everyone else in this world.

There were certain issues in the camp itself during the time I was there. Recently the refugees who had been hired as teachers (15 out of 30 – the other 15 are Cameroonian) went on strike over their pay (having somehow heard that teachers in other refugee camps get paid more) and UN staff were informed of plans from certain refugees within the camp to orchestrate violence against UN and NGO staff as a protest against the lack of food (rations were running low and the next distribution was not due). None of the demands made by the refugees were ceded to, and the teachers have returned to work. The day after the threat of violence was heard no humanitarian staff entered the camp, which made it clear how easily the assistance being offered could be removed, and since then activities have continued as normal, although there is still tension in the camp and staff are cautious. I'll reserve judgement on this situation here, but it's certainly thought-provoking.

Other issues connect to the local Cameroonian population. A lack of latrine usage in the camp has led to contamination of local water supplies and illnesses within the population of Kousseri. Despite the availability of water within the camp refugees have been using local water supplies too, and this has led to shortages. These things and others are causing resentment among residents. In June the refugees will be moved to a site a few hundred kilometres south of Kousseri, near Garoua. This is purportedly to avoid the seasonal rainfall that could drastically affect the camp as it is located on a known flood plane. However I suspect that part of the motivation is also to separate the genuine refugees from those who are deriving benefits from the camp but who are not genuinely seeking refuge in Cameroon. There are reportedly many people who commute from the refugee camp to N’Djamena in Chad for work and then return at the end of the day, and others who one suspects are not in dire need of assistance. I have also heard that some people in the camp are armed rebels involved in the conflict in N'Djamena. It may be anticipated that only those in greatest need will be willing to travel the several hundred kilometres to Garoua and cut off their link with Chad.

That is not to say that only those in dire need of assistance should receive it, but it is to acknowledge that unfortunately there is only a limited pool of resources with which to handle refugee situations. So there may be more urgent situations elsewhere to which certain resources could be diverted. In any case, a number of things impressed me about the whole thing. I couldn't help but be impressed at the co-ordination of resources, the sheer volume of collective will to do something that is essentially only of benefit to other people. All this infrastructure, all these materials, all these millions of pounds being spent, all these people working extremely long hours in very difficult conditions, and for what? To help perfect strangers. I love that. And to think that it's being replicated all over the world.

The northern region of Cameroon is very dry and hot. Temperatures are normally around 40 degrees and it's basically desert. It's in stark contrast to the lush tropical south-west where I was just a couple of weeks ago. My lingering impressions are of dust, goats, villages of small round huts with pointy roofs, muslims, cattle, and intense heat. I have one particular memory of a man on a motorbike driving behind us in the orange dust with several metre-high stacks of trays of eggs strapped in a very makeshift way to his motorbike, weaving through the heavy traffic, missing pedestrians and other cars by millimetres and looking ridiculously precarious. My first experience of being engulfed by the Harmattan wind, with its attendant sandstorm, was pretty memorable too, but there are so many more - I find travelling in unfamiliar surroundings to be an incredibly powerful stimulus - it's just the impressions don't stay long enough and are not easily enough recountable. Sadly.

On the flight home I was like a little boy, overstimulated and finding everything unusually fascinating. We were in a tiny propellor-driven plane run by the World Food Programme, which seats around 12 people, and from the seats you can see right into the cockpit. I found it fascinating to watch them, and was really surprised how many things they had to do and how co-ordinated an effort it was. Real teamwork between the two pilots. They did so many little things - fiddling with dials, flicking switches, reading gauges - that I wondered what the implications of them forgetting to do one of those things would be. I mean, it can't be the case that missing one of those things out would have awful consequences, as it seems so easy to forget one. In which case, what is the need for it. Hmm.

And then flying out over the desert, watching the layout of a city in the sand, then the scenery turning gradually greener... anyway, it all reminded me of something in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in which I think there's a lot of truth. There's a section where a student is asked to write an observational piece about a building in his local area, and he thinks he has nothing to say. The teacher encourages him to focus first only on the brick in the uppermost left corner of the building and see what he can find to say about that - the texture of it, its colours, its shape, its role in supporting the building... anything. The success of this exercise in producing a vivid, lucid piece of writing from the student suggested that the problem wasn't that the student had nothing to say about the building, but that there was too much for him to say. So much that it prevented him from knowing where to start.

I sometimes think about this. Imagine a 2p piece, for example. Not much to say about it, surely, it's a pretty mundane item. Round, copper-coloured, very functional. But when you look closer you can see there is no uniform colour, that's a simplified abstraction imposed by your mind. Really it's lots of different colours - some bits are lighter and darker, more or less tarnished, there are specks of dirt, the pattern is weathered in a certain way, certain parts shine and others are dull. Then think about its history. How many times has this 2p piece been used and in what ways? Probably thousands or tens of thousands of times. Each time, it's been used in a unique transaction with its own meaning and history. A different person each time, in a different part of the country, going about very particular business. Maybe an old man buying a loaf of bread in Scarborough, maybe a 16-year-old illegally buying his first pint in a Swansea pub, nervous and scraping change together. All of you have touched this same coin, had it in your possession for a certain period of time and then passed it on to the next. And then think about the way it was made. All the different elements that had to be taken from the ground, transported and fused together to make the metal, and all the people, places and times involved in those processes. The machines it took to press the thing, the designer who made the template, the committees that discussed the profile of the Queen's nose, how majesterial she looked. You can go on and on...

When I get in one of these moods the whole world seems like a playground. Everything is interesting, and it's just a case of revelling in it. Unfortunately, it's quite rare, and I'd love to know why. It feels like something is pushing down on my perceptions, squashing them flat to make everything smoother and more functional. I don't know, and in any case this is a massive tangent. But it sprang from this travel to the north and seemed worth mentioning.

Dogs

There are a couple of dogs that live in the flat next door to me, horrible little things, too small to be fun like big dogs, yet still noisy and messy. They seem to have engaged in some sort of territorial war with me and often I'll come home to find little gifts of excrement in front of my gate so that I have to step around them to get in the door. This weekend away gave them the perfect opportunity to step it up a notch and I arrived home to a veritable feast of piss and shit, so much so that getting in the door felt a little bit like playing a sick version of Twister, tiptoeing in the gaps and contorting myself to get through the door without covering my shoes in the stuff. And just now as I was walking past the neighbour's door on the way to my flat, a venomous, growling ball of white fluff flung itself from the door and tried to attach itself to my ankle. No harm done, but if this continues I may be forced either to defacate on their premises in retaliation or simply kick the things to a hideous and brutal death.

Weekend in Limbe

I spent the Easter weekend in Limbe with some of the Embassy gang. It's a small town in South West Cameroon, notable for being on the coast, close to Mount Cameroon (a volcano and west Africa's tallest peak at 4,095m) and home to an oil refinery that was controversially neglected in choosing a location for the terminus of a new oil pipeline to Chad. Francophone Kribi, in the president's home region, was chosen over Anglophone Limbe, and it is widely believed by the Anglophone minority to have been a stitch up. From Limbe you can also see Equatorial Guinea's Bioko Island, one of those islands whose location makes you wonder why it belongs to the country it does rather than the one right next to it (the Falkland Islands come to mind, for example).

To get there you have to drive through Douala, which bore obvious signs of the recent unrest. The majority of the petrol stations we passed had the prices smashed out and a couple were still closed. One had a burnt-out car in the forecourt and its petrol pumps ripped out, and several had smashed windows or other smaller signs of violence. Those belonging to Total seemed to be the worst hit, I wonder if this has anything to do with their being a French company. Driving through Douala is always chaotic, and on the way back we witnessed a small accident as a woman was hit by a motorcycle, stumbling and falling backwards from the road and leaving the motorcyclist and his motorcycle in a small heap on the road. Luckily he was travelling at a low speed and she was robustly built, so it seemed that no major damage was done. I was surprised and relieved to see how calmly it was dealt with, having heard many reports of road accidents ending in heated arguments, violence and sometimes mob murder in other parts of the continent.

Limbe itself is very nice, the sands are volcanic grey which is unusual, but it has a very relaxed feel to it, and the ever-present mountain backdrop is something I really appreciated. Our hotel had a great view over the town, the sea was warm, and the beach was quiet with delicious fish available on tap from the beachside restaurant. We also went to visit Buea (pronounced "boy-ah"), which was the German colonial capital for a short while, passing through the Tole Tea Plantation on the way. Buea is at about 1,000m altitude and has a nice cool, airy feel. It looks an interesting little place but we didn't have time to hang around unfortunately.

The tea plantation was interesting too, at one point we stopped to have a drink and some food that we had with us and started to attract a fair bit of attention. First the woman who works on that part of the plantation came to see what we were up to, then the guy who said he guards it. He came with a bit of attitude, telling us that "snapping" (photography) is prohibited and that he would have to take our memory cards away and call the management. Although he had no real basis for doing that, our will to be co-operative (and perhaps the thought of the group of men with machetes we'd just passed who were working on the land) made us try to reason with him a little. It worked to some extent, although in the end it was the language of the bribe that came through. Two meatballs, some small pieces of cheese and a packet of biscuits apparently meant that our photos were no longer a problem.

Just before he left with the goods, now all smiles, he mentioned that had we been French there would have been a *real* problem. We didn't sit and challenge him on his racial stereotypes, preferring to let him wander off on his merry way to share his spoils with his cohorts. A few minutes later the manager actually turned up anyway and chatted amiably with us about the problems they are having with privatisation for a few minutes before carrying on about his business. The hatred of all things French is apparently not unusual in this part of the country: the restaurant that evening had "Freedom Fries" on the menu. In a token act of resistance to this frog-bashing I ordered "fries, French fries", before settling down to a very tasty and cheap meal, followed by a bit of a dance at "Dreams", Limbe's nightlife hotspot.

When we first got to Limbe I'd completely forgotten that there is an oil refinery there. As we drove through the town on the way to the beach something stood out - a paved residential road running parallel to ours. It immediately made me wonder why it was like that, until the entrance to the refinery came into view and the connection between the oil wealth and the paved road became obvious. It's a small thing, but it was reassuring to feel that I'm starting to get some sort of sense for the way things are here, so that unusual things stand out on an instinctive level as well as being identifiable on a rational level.

Real-life Cluedo

This morning I was called to an impromptu meeting downstairs, where it was reported that a laptop had been stolen from the office yesterday during working hours. Everyone sat around discussing people's movements yesterday and what guests had been coming in and out of the office. We checked the guard's log book and talked with the receptionist about guests and any periods when she had been away from the desk and unable to keep an eye on visitors.

As everyone gave their spiel and tried not to say what they were really thinking, I had trouble taking it seriously. It felt like one of those Murder Mystery weekends that people go on, or like a game of Cluedo. Was it the driver with the suspiciously full rucksack, the visitor with the inconspicuous briefcase, or the pasty looking westerner with a wobbly moral compass (me)?

After a fair bit of discussion one member of staff put forward his considered view on the matter. He felt that this should be handled by people who are trained to conduct investigations and who are experienced in the relevant procedures. This went down quite well, it was a thoroughly thought-out and eloquently phrased view. It's hard to disagree with him on this point, but the fact that it requires discussion to conclude that the police should be the ones to conduct any investigation is quite revealing.

Although I've only heard one person say it explicitly, there's a distinct undertone that it was someone within the office who took it. This is manifesting itself in general suspicion and, particularly given the recently announced redundancies, a slightly fractious working environment.

The activities of an expat in Yaounde

So far this expat has...

...played...
football
poker
mario kart on the n64
tennis
cricket against the Cameroon national team
table tennis
wii sports
djembe and some other percussion
darts
golf


...been...
to a parade for International Women's Day
jogging
salsa dancing
to a meat-market club for westerners
to a Cameroonian club
swimming
to a couple of different drumming circles
to some expat parties

...eaten...
paella
plantain
chicken - lots of
beans - lots of
fish
salad
quesadillas
rice
apples
pasta
malaria tablets
spaghetti meatballs
lentil soup
pizza
couscous
bread
bananas
lasagne
tacos
curry

...drunk...
water
beer
whiskey
water
fruit juice
schnapps
wine
water
water


p.s. £37 profit on poker last night, running total is £109 from 3 games

By the way...

...the security situation is currently calm, things are going well with the cleaner, and we got the money for the project with the refugees that I was talking about.

Things are calm but they are not quite back to normal, with detentions without due process, media being shut down, and propaganda over death tolls. The big problem is really what 'normal' constitutes. The government is no doubt more paranoid than it was before the unrest, and is carrying out oppressive actions that it did not before. But it always had the capacity to behave this way, and it was already obvious that those involved would seek to retain power by any means necessary. This is the root of the problem and it's very hard to be optimistic about the future in this regard. The President seems to have sufficient control over parliament to get his constitutional amendment through, and we know that he has sufficient control over electoral processes to force a win in any election that might take place, so it is hard to see how this situation will improve.

p.s. I won £55 at poker last night. Cashback!

The Constitution of the Republic of Cameroon

Here are some excerpts from the Constitution of the Republic of Cameroon (1996). Click on the links for some connected news stories.


“We, the people of Cameroon, … affirm our attachment to the fundamental freedoms enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the Charter of the United Nations and The African charter on Human and People’s Rights.” - Preamble

“The freedom of communication, of expression, of the press, of assembly, of association, and of trade unionism, as well as the right to strike shall be guaranteed under the conditions fixed by law.” - Preamble

“The State shall guarantee the child’s right to education. Primary education shall be compulsory. The organization and supervision of education at all levels shall be the bounden duty of the State.” - Preamble

“The preamble shall be part and parcel of this Constitution.” - Article 65

“The Republic of Cameroon … shall be one and indivisible, secular, democratic and dedicated to social service.” - Article 1(2)

“The President of the Republic … shall ensure respect for the Constitution.” - Article 5(2)

“The President of the Republic shall be elected for a term of office of 7 (seven) years. He shall be eligible for re-election once.” - Article 6(2)

“Amendments to the Constitution may be proposed either by the President of the Republic or by Parliament … Parliament shall meet in congress when called upon to examine a draft or proposed amendment. The amendment shall be adopted by an absolute majority of the members of Parliament. The President of the Republic may request a second reading; in which case the amendment shall be adopted by a two-third Majority of the members of Parliament … The President of the Republic may decide to submit any bill to amend the Constitution to a referendum; in which case the amendment shall be adopted by a simple majority of the votes cast.” – Article 63(1-4)

Friend Relativism

I've moved this post to here

Security situation

The past few days have seen incidents of unrest and violence in Cameroon that are starting to make their way into international media, so I thought it worth saying something about the security situation and my own personal safety. The basic points are that the situation is quite serious, but that at the moment there is no direct threat to my own safety. It's just a case of being careful, not moving about much at night and avoiding certain areas.

In terms of the general situation, the tipping point was a strike organised by taxi drivers, whose stated grievance was rising fuel prices. However, to use the analogy that one of my colleagues just used with me, it was the final drop that made a brimming cup overflow. It didn't take too long after getting here for me to form the impression that the stability and calm that this country has 'enjoyed' for many years couldn't last forever, although I didn't think anything would happen so soon. People have deep-seated and often justified grievances with this government. While the most pressing concerns are the rising fuel and food prices, which have a heavy impact upon day-to-day life, many people are also concerned about the recently expressed desire of the president (Paul Biya) to modify the constitution to allow himself extra terms in office, as well as years of heavy corruption and a lack of development. Add to that the long-running tension between the Anglophone minority and the primarily Francophone government, and it is in many ways surprising that it has been so stable for so long.

Political grievances and general frustration came into play - along with some opportunism as seems common when violent situations arise - and the strikes were accompanied by violence, with looting and burning of property and some reported deaths. The number of people killed over the last few days seems to be widely reported as eight, although in reality I think the number is higher. I had already heard that eight people had died a couple of days ago when the problems were confined mainly to Douala and a few other areas, and now it has spread to other areas. Just last night there were four deaths in Yaounde, people who had apparently been shot by the police as protesters and police faced off. This article puts the total number who have died at 17 but I imagine that even that is on the low side.

So the situation is serious and it's hard to tell how long it will last. Biya gave a speech at 8pm last night which was not at all conciliatory. He blamed the problems on opposition movements who he said were manipulating the youth into these actions. He said that these people wanted to gain through violence what they could not gain through the ballot box, and that he would do anything within the law to restore law and order. So, heavy police crackdowns by the sounds of it.

He's a clever speaker and always casts himself as a defender of democracy in his speeches. Even his plan to fiddle with the constitution to give himself longer in the power was framed in terms of benefiting democracy: the two-term limit, he said, was contrary to the principles of democratic choice. Just remember that this guy knows how to rig an election or two. He knows that this speech won't help national reconciliation, his only concern is not to concede any power.

In terms of my own situation, I feel fairly secure. The majority of the problems are in other parts of the country, particularly in Douala and Bamenda, although in the last couple of days it has spread to here. The problems within Yaounde seem quite localised, with the majority of unrest in poorer parts of town and in central areas. Here in Bastos we are a little bit out of town and it is a much richer area. That doesn't mean that we're immune from problems, but it does make it generally more secure as there are many guards for the embassies and private residences.

That said, there was gunfire heard near here last night after the speech (it was policemen firing into the air apparently), so there is certainly no reason to be complacent. I'm in touch with the British High Commission here, who are my main port of call should there be any real emergency, and have a couple of friends at other NGOs who live in the same area and who are keeping an eye on my welfare, for which I am grateful. My own employer, it has to be said, is not doing a great deal, but I have my own contacts and am sufficiently well connected should anything deteriorate.

I think the main reason not to be too concerned is that the most serious incidents seem to have occurred when protesters and police have been squaring off. By not being anywhere near this kind of situation you are already avoiding the worst of it. The looters are - from a security perspective if not an economic and livelihoods one - less of a problem, and their activity should be quelled by the heightened police presence.

Things do seem to have been calmer today. I've seen a fair few police out and about and a military helicopter flew past just a couple of hours ago. This is the first major response from the state it seems, so we will see how people react.

Cleaner update

You remember the woman who I met in the street who asked if I had any cleaning work for her? Well I thought it over a lot and talked to a lot of people here about it, and I decided to meet her again to see if it was feasible to have her come in when I was in the house. Everyone I consulted thought that it was a bad idea even to consider it and many offered to put me in touch with someone they knew and could recommend. Some that I asked went so far as to give me a patronising "you've got a lot to learn", which of course made me doubly determined to give her a chance.

So I met her on Saturday and quizzed her about her situation, what work she had done in the past and so on. She told me that she used to work for a teacher and then the director of the American School, but that she'd had to stop work when she had her child. After that she was unable to find work again as the people that she had worked for had left the country. My impression again was of someone who was telling the truth - these things are quite intangible, but there was no particular forcefulness to her replies (she didn't seem to be *trying* to convince me) and there were no obvious holes in her story or hesitations trying to recollect details. She also said that she had references that I could follow up.

I invited her to come back on Sunday and she did a few hours of work. When it came to payment we talked a bit, with me trying to get her to name a price and vice versa. She told me that she would normally (if working for a foreigner) get around 40,000CFA (£45ish) for going three times a week to someone's house to clean, iron and whatever (3 full days, that is), and 50K if she was to cook too. This is what she wanted to do with me as well, but I figured I could only afford once a week for a few hours (10K each time maybe, or 15K if she cooked), and I was also reluctant to commit to more than once a week if I was going to have to be in the house every time. In the end I offered 10K for the day's work, and she gave me a strange look and a small yet high-pitched "no!" before going on to explain that the 40K that she mentioned was a monthly wage, not a weekly one, and so 10K for a day was far too much.

This, along with her reluctance to take any money on the day to avoid "spending it all straight away", helped me to trust her a bit more. In the end I decided that, provided the references came through ok, she could do 3 days a week for me for 50K a month. She was very keen to do this as at that point she was getting paid 30k a month by a Cameroonian lady to work six full days (and she came on the seventh - Sunday - to work for me... in full Sunday best straight from church).

She had two letters of recommendation (one in dodgy English supposedly written by an American - a bit suspicious) and a copy of her CV and ID for me. Her ID showed a different date of birth to one of the recommendation letters which again made me want to dig a little deeper, but actually I think many people here have false dates of birth for work purposes. In any case she showed no hesitation in getting me to ring these people, and the one person I did get through to - coincidentally someone whose house I'd been at the previous night for a social thing - said that she'd known her through the head of the American School and that she was always nice and friendly etc. She stopped short of offering a recommendation, having not employed her herself, but she backed up the story.

In any case, it's good enough for me. Of course there is still risk, as I think there always is in letting someone into your home on trust, whatever country you're in. But I think I have to back my convictions on this one as the alternative is more or less never trusting anybody, something that I'm not willing to countenance. Besides my assessment of her character, I am made hopeful by thinking that it is probably more profitable to her to stay with me for 8 months and get a good recommendation than it would be to steal my possessions. I'm keeping valuables locked away, but I basically don't see what there is to lose. If I'm right in my judgement then a lovely young woman has an opportunity to almost double her wage, have twice as much time to be with her child, and be inducted back into a network of expats that will provide her with future job opportunities. If I'm wrong then I lose a few hundred quid's worth of possessions and a bit of pride.

Sorry if this is too much detail, but I've been thinking about it a fair bit.

French

Here's something that annoys me about speaking French: having to choose between the 'tu' and the 'vous' forms.

Here, embedded within the very structure of a language, is something that forces you to communicate a view as to how you and another person are going to relate. It's a terrible, terrible feature, and it is one of the saving graces of English that it lacks this (as well as gender-specific nouns - phew!).

You can say that you should just use the polite form 'vous' until you're sure, but it's really not that simple. There are circumstances, particularly in Africa it seems, where using the 'vous' form can be strange and even insulting. If you're introduced to someone in a scenario where everyone's being matey and jokey and you start with the 'vous' you can actually put a bit of a dampener on things I think (what? you're not my mate? oh you want to keep the distance...). But then of course there will be times when you jump straight in with a 'tu' and offend someone, particularly if they are older than you. And when Cameroonian people automatically 'vous' me because I'm white or when people who are older than me start 'tu'-ing me, I sometimes feel awkward or, as someone who's trying to establish himself as an equal in an adult world, occasionally offended.

Of course there is no doubt that I'm misinterpreting certain situations and that my hesitancy over choosing 'tu' or 'vous' worsens the problem. My point is simply that it is unfortunate that a language can force you to think about these things and to continually make these judgements.

English, truly the language of the common man! Who'd have thought something so egalitarian could have come from such a pompous, class-ridden nation? I know that's a bit of an unjustified connection but it was fun to say. I'd look up how it came to be that English is different to so many languages in this respect but I can't be bothered right now. If you have any idea yourself, I'd be interested to know.

Responsibility

Yesterday I was updating and re-writing a proposal for us to get some money in order to provide some basic foodstuffs and clothing for Chadian refugees in the far north of Cameroon. The donor had suggested that our logistical costs were too high and, seeing as one of our main priorities with this piece of work was to establish a connection with this donor for the future (I know, shouldn't the main priority be to help the refugees...we can debate that another time), we were happy to put these costs at almost any level so as to make the proposal acceptable to the donor. As my manager was out of the office and it was very urgent to get this proposal submitted, the responsibility for balancing the budget fell on me. Basically, I was told to 'reduce' the logistical costs, but given a lot of leeway as to how much to reduce them by (indeed as I described, from our point of view it didn't really matter how much we reduced them by, so long as it appealed to the donor).

So the end result was me sitting with a small spreadsheet and fiddling with the numbers, adding a few hundred portions of rice here, 50 sets of clothes for children there, subtracting if I thought it got too much, etc. The thing is, these numbers, once I've set them, become to a significant degree what will actually happen if we are successful in getting the money. We're accountable to the donor to do what we said we'd do and so if I fiddle the numbers one way or another, it probably will result in 100s more or fewer refugees receiving rice or clothes or whatever from us. That's the immediate welfare of hundreds of people at stake, and little old me, straight from the UK and fresh as a daisy, on the other end playing with the numbers.

I had real difficulty reconciling that in my head. You can say it shouldn't happen, but that's no good, it's already happening. You can say you should just give them as much as possible, but there is always a limit and you have to choose that limit.

It was a very strange sensation, and will no doubt become even stranger if the project goes ahead. But what can you do? Just do your best I suppose. I daren't think what it's like for people at a very high level where they are making daily decisions about the lives of thousands or even millions of people. The human mind is not wired for this kind of responsibility, it doesn't make any sense. All of our emotional frameworks, as individuals, are based primarily on interactions with other individuals or small groups of people. It seems to me that it's best just to accept that it feels strange, and wrong, and that it will make you uncomfortable. You can't make 2+2=5, so why try.

It's a difficult thing, and one that I know other people struggle with. If you spend the briefest of spells in Africa or many other parts of the world you will see how much £1 can mean to someone. What does that mean to you the next time you're in London paying £3 for a pint of beer or spending £200k on a poxy flat in a crap part of town? How can you reconcile that? Should you? You can't ignore it and you can't make it go away, but it's not easy to pinpoint blame or solutions. It's really not easy. If you can't reconcile it then perhaps you can just accept it, but then if you accept it you might start to think it's ok, which it's not. So... any ideas?

Me neither.


A couple of interesting news articles from the last couple of days:
1. A little insight into some problems that clearly existed prior to the elections in Kenya. I'd take some of this with a pinch of salt (I suspect this guy is no angel), but I equally don't doubt that Kibaki's government has always been dodgy in many ways (e.g. in this article effectively inciting murder) or that there has long been impunity for certain crimes, significant clamouring for resources involving foul play, racial tensions, and other such like in Kenya.
2. An insight into the value of freedom of the press. This isn't the article I was looking for, which has disappeared, but is still worth reading to get some idea how a controlled, pandering and manipulative press can prop up the most monstrous of regimes. If that link doesn't work then just browse through that day's articles at the same paper and I'm sure you'll find something equally ridiculous.

Blog privacy

So I was thinking it would be a good idea to be a little bit more discreet about publishing certain thoughts, for example on my job. I've set up a side-blog here, if you want to access it send me an email and I'll add you to the list.

09/02/08 to 15/02/08

I didn't make it to the beach in the end as a couple of people I'd been trying to make contact with suggested doing things over the weekend, so I thought it would be wise to stay in Yaoundé. This included a couple of beers with a French guy, who took me to a weird cabaret style bar, and dinner at a Spanish restaurant with a real expat crowd. They're mostly older than me with more official jobs and all drive around in big cars, have nice houses and spend lots of money on western-style food. On my wage I can't afford that too often. I had plans to for the big game too - Cameroon-Egypt in the final of the Cup of Nations - but they didn't work out. It didn't matter too much in the end, Cameroon lost and suddenly everything was back to normal. People seem generally to have taken the defeat on the chin and there is a general acknowledgement that Egypt were the better side and that there's a fair element of chance in knockout tournaments, which is refreshing when I think back to reactions to some of England's defeats over the years.

I also went up to Hotel Mont Fébé, which is more or less the poshest hotel in Cameroon, to relax by their pool. The Cameroon football team was there, fresh from their final defeat, and so there was a fair old circus of hangers on. I ate lunch a few tables away from Samuel Eto'o, which was pretty cool, and Joseph Desire-Job was on the next table, which I couldn't really have cared less about but it was interesting to see the sheer hassle even he got from fans. It was weird actually to think that this guy earns in the region of a couple of million a year just to play football, and in Eto'o's case, more like £5m. I was surprised how physically slight he is, TV really must add some pounds.

Later in the week one of the people who I'd contacted on Facebook the previous week invited me to his house for dinner. I had a really pleasant evening with him, his wife and his children. One of the things he mentioned to me during the evening was that at one point many years ago he tried to make a living importing Cameroonian art to the States for wholesale, but he got conned and lost a fair bit of money. It was interesting that he'd had no problems conducting smooth business at this end, but got completely screwed over at the American end by a professional con-artist and a company that never paid up.

As I was leaving after dinner I asked if they know anyone who plays or teaches djembe, as it's something I'd like to do while I'm out here. My question prompted a whoop, clap, laugh and semi-jig from his wife... yes she knows a djembe teacher, he'll be here tomorrow and he'll be playing while she and some others dance, I should drop by and check it out. At best I'd hoped they might have a friend of a friend who played or something, but this was literally the perfect answer to my question. So the next day after work I stopped by their house again, which is actually on my way home. There was the drummer, about 3 or 4 Cameroonian women, a few young American girls over here on some exchange programme, a dancing guy, the drummer, me and the kids. We drummed, they danced. It was brilliant. I hope I'll be able to do it again. I'm also looking into getting private lessons with the teacher, which would be great if it works out.

Thursday was all about work. It was the first day I really felt engaged and productive, and it was a good – if tiring – feeling. The whole day was busy, in a really good way. In the morning the Country Director told me about some funding that we might be able to access to provide some relief (food, clothes, water) to some of the refugees in the far north of the country who have recently come in from Chad. We had to get a mini-proposal in by the end of the day, which I was to write. So I had to take a quick crash course in the situation, get in touch with UNHCR, MSF and whoever else I could think of, and work out how to make a plausible proposal out of the limited information at my disposal. It was a difficult but important task, as a good job could result in these people getting assistance that they wouldn't otherwise get.

In the evening, tired and in need of some relaxation, I got in touch with some people who have a regular poker game. The game was actually held at the house of the person to whom we'd submitted the proposal just minutes before I got there, but we didn't talk shop. He was hospitality personified, and after some pizza, beer, whiskey and a successful night on the poker table whereby my £11 had grown to £28, I left feeling well looked-after and a wee bit lucky.

I hope the luck continues and this project comes through; it's a relatively small amount of money, but I'm sure it is worth doing.

08/02/08

This morning I tidied up my dead roaches for the day, deposited them in the nearest heap of rubbish and walked to work. On the way I saw a guy eating out of a dustbin, which was a little bit sobering, and then a few minutes later I was stopped by a woman who I thought was going to ask the time or directions. She asked if I had any cleaning or babysitting that needed doing, as things were very hard for her at the moment. She had a slightly desperate look on her face, while nonetheless trying to be dignified. She had the look of someone who is trying to refrain from expressing their emotions; her face was trembling a little bit and her facial expressions were a little bit erratic with slightly manic smiles, although she was still quite composed. You can never be sure, but she seemed genuinely upset. Basically, I feel like I should offer her some cleaning work. Only when I'm in the house, and after I've talked to her some more and tried to find out more about her, but I think it would be a good idea. If you have an opinion let me know. The way I see it the worst that can happen is I get robbed, the best that can happen is I give an opportunity to earn some money to someone who really needs it.

Anyway, it's Friday pm and everyone has gone home except for one or two people. I'm pretty annoyed because Monday is a holiday and everyone goes home early on Fridays and no-body thought to tell me either of those things. I'm missing an opportunity to be travelling now to make the most of the long weekend, but I still might go somewhere tomorrow morning. I'm also feeling pretty lonely again as my friend-raising efforts on Facebook have so far come to naught but promises, and someone who I was kind of banking on to reply - a contact I got through VSO - hasn't got back to me. So it's no-mates-ville again tonight, and probably the best plan will be to head to the coast tomorrow so that if I am to be on my own for 3 days at least I'll have the beach.

I need to chill out with the blogging too, last night when I was watching the football there were a couple of points where I was thinking about what to say about it in my blog. Very unhealthy, so a hiatus is probably required.

If anyone can be bothered then give me a ring off Skype - +237 79604423 - 15p a minute.

And happy birthday to Carrie and DC for Sunday!

The VSO person has just got back to me - cool.

07/02/08

Alright, today was much better. The last couple of days I've been adjusting a little bit, more so to the insect situation than the work situation, which remains dubious. But I had a good meeting with the head of VSO in Cameroon who was very focused, clear-headed and efficient, and it was useful to have a lengthy one-to-one with my Country Director. The VSO guy gave me some useful contacts and a lot of useful information, so I have a lot more to chew on now. And it turns out I will be having some kind of formal induction in the office after all so that's good. Plus I'm starting to find cheap ways to do things – 250CFA (30p) for rice, beans, fishy sauce and bread from a guy just outside the office, 200CFA for most taxi rides in a shared taxi. It's really good to know I can get by on so little if needs be. The taxi system is great – you just shout your destination and the price you want to pay at passing taxis and wait until one of them honks at you to confirm they'll take you. It's really quit efficient, although I've been warned that it gets dodgy at night – fake taxis who'll mug you.

I've taken my friend-finding efforts to new lengths. Last night I went out looking for somewhere to watch the England game, hoping to snare some kind of company in the process. I sat at a bar called JC, coke in hand, before realising that I was much too early and the game wasn't on for an hour and a half. After sitting there, very much resembling a lemon, for about 10-15 minutes a middle-aged woman who was patently drunk and had been shouting at the bar staff came over and asked me if I was waiting for someone. Clearly she saw fear in my eyes as she quickly emphasised that she was married. That was good enough for me and I joined her and her friend, who it turned out managed the place, for some broken French, good humour, food and drink until she got bored of me about 20-odd minutes later. They were both Moroccan and very pleasant. A big step up on no company at all.

Today I really stepped it up a notch. Besides untactfully mentioning to the VSO guy that I could use some company, I went onto Facebook and searched for 'Yaounde', which yielded about 450 people. I went through, picking anyone who looked western (white) and sending them a moderately pathetic message. As I said in the message, dignity is no obstacle at this point. From 9 messages sent I've had 4 replies so far, not bad at all. I will probably meet two and I tried to meet up with a third tonight. She told me she'd be out watching the Cameroon-Ghana match tonight with friends and later called to tell me they were in an area called Essos, in a bar called Phoenix. I had no clue where that is but figured it out eventually and took a taxi there with a bit of help from a local, only to realise that no-one in Essos had a clue what or where Phoenix is. I wandered back and forth a bit in the dark, asking people, but no joy. By this point the football was in full swing, and when there was a goal and people spilled out into the streets from a multitude of roadside bars, jumping, running and dancing, I realised it was time to call off the search and get quickly into one of these bars. I chose the noisiest, rowdiest one I could see and hovered for a while, to see if I could fit in, still a bit cautious. I'd been standing at the back for a few minutes when a couple of young kids hovered towards me carrying a chair and sweetly offered it to me. Nothing could have made me feel more welcome.

When the final whistle went and Cameroon had won the whole place went mental. Many people just jumped up and ran, knocking over their chairs, jumping, whooping into the street to join others running down the street with flags, shouting and cheering. Many started to dance manically to the music that immediately began pumping out of the stereo, while the older heads gathered in the corner looking serious and presumably discussing very important matters; who Cameroon would play in the final for example. Meanwhile groups of little kids got their groove on to the music, cars honked their horns constantly, people blew whistles and horns, and everyone wore a big fat grin. I've never seen anything quite like it. At one point I was walking up the street and the group of kids and teenagers running up and down the street ran directly towards me. I stuck out my hand and got a series of high fives, big grins and shouts. Later on another teenager befriended me and took my phone number, promising to call for the final so we could watch it together. Eventually I found the bar I was looking for but my Facebook acquaintance was no longer there. It really didn't matter, and I just took a taxi home.

Cameroon 2

05/02/08

Well, things didn't improve, they got worse. My baggage made it back at the second time of asking, which is the good news, but a few things quickly started to get me down – or I let them get me down – whichever way you look at it. The first thing was work related (more detail when I set up a private side-blog) while the second was problems with my apartment. Admittedly I'd had my expectations unfairly raised by my colleague's apartment in Nairobi, but still I wasn't prepared to share my flat with cockroaches and mice. My Westerner Squeamishness Factor (WSF) appears to have increased at least 40-50% since my last African outing, although I'm sure that being on my own and frustrated with other things doesn't help. In any case the cumulative effect left me fairly miserable and one particularly protracted cockroach encounter, ending with me convinced it was buried in my bedsheets, left me paranoid, lonely and doubting my manhood. Not having hot water isn't ideal, but then most other people don't have it either. I hope that soon I'll appreciate how much luxury I'm in compared to those around me and be grateful for it, but for now I'm just wishing I was in one of the really plush apartments up the hill and, occasionally, wondering what the hell I'm doing here.

Anyway, I stocked up this afternoon on bug spray, bug powder and rat poison and have done a little mission round the flat poisoning them and, given the velocity of the fan that is currently pumping air and powdered poison around the flat, probably myself as well. One or more of us is going to die, and I'll back myself to outlast them.

Cameroon won last night in the football. I watched the first half on my TV that sort of works, and each time they scored I could hear massive cheers from the whole area outside the flat, it was almost like being in a stadium. These guys really love their football. Seriously love it. Much more so than the English, and it's much more joyful, less angry. I'm really glad they won because it means I get a chance to join in next time.

Besides my moans I had a few first impressions of Cameroon that I might as well record. Douala was crazy, full of ramshackle buildings and people buzzing around on motorbikes. Everyone seemed to have one and the roads were very hectic as a result. The airport was basic: when we got off the flight we were left to wander around aimlessly through what appeared to be customs and then passport control, without seeing anybody except taxi drivers, until we hit a closed door and were stuck. After a minute a guy came out and started doing the passports, and let us through to a small room with two carousels for baggage and a big pile of luggage in the corner that probably ought not to have been there. It was a pretty modest welcome from the nation's main gateway to the world. Douala is based, it seems, around the mouth of a big fat river and what vegetation there is is very tropical and lush (some might even say equatorial), but most of the urban area seems to be a dust bowl with single story wooden-walled buildings everywhere. Hand painted signs, corrugated iron roofs and sheer chaos are the orders of the day. Again, I didn't see much and it was all from an air-conditioned 4x4, but that's the best I can do. Yaounde is very different, more ordered by comparison, very hilly and with mercifully few nutters-on-motorbikes in residence. I'm looking forward to getting out and about and forming some more informed impressions of the place. Unfortunately, as I write, a cockroach has breached my defences. All bets are off at this point...

...well, I tried to spray it and it scuttled away somewhere. I'm not sure that 'out of sight out of mind' really applies in this scenario, but it'll do for now. Argh, I'm sure I just saw another one scuttle in. Nope, that was in fact the/a mouse. My fortress is crumbling under the first signs of attack. I'm not even going to look in the kitchen(ette), I don't want to know.

So that's where I'm at. Work isn't great, I've got no friends, I can't speak to the locals and I'm under attack from rodents and insects. No doubt the last part is my own fault for adopting the siege mentality and waging an unwinnable war instead of opting for peaceful coexistence. Perhaps there's a life lesson in there somewhere.

Cameroon 1

03/02/08

Urgh, Cameroon. Not the best of starts. They don't seem quite such a friendly bunch as the Kenyans, the climate is stickier, and it seems more hectic, none of which features I'm particularly enamoured by. The flight I took here was en route to the Ivory Coast, and while I got off in the right place it seems that my main piece of luggage didn't. I hope it comes back as I don't have any spare clothes. It doesn't help that I'm struggling to communicate with people due to a combination of the Cameroonian accent (10%) and my crap French (90%), and that the one guy at the airport who spoke English was trying to con me. Still, I'm fed, watered and in a comfortable room with footy on the telly, so although I'm a bit tired and lonely I'm still feeling fairly chipper. Things will improve.

Nairobi 3

02/02/08

I'm starting to feel that whatever political 'solution', or perhaps more accurately status quo, is reached here, the violence will not simply stop at that point. Our first taxi driver's optimism that things would go back to normal after a couple of weeks is starting to seem misplaced, and it seems that it's going to take a significant effort to restore calm. Kofi Annan is making positive noises, as it's his role to do, and at least there is dialogue. However, the security situation seems simply to be deteriorating. In addition to the factors of politics, poverty, race and revenge that I described as contributing to the violence, we can add class, as described to us by someone living in an area directly affected by the violence. It is not uncommon now for people to be attacked by others of the same tribal identity but of a different social class. A situation that was at first characterised as solely political (although the extent to which this was ever true is debatable) can be seen now to encompass not just political and tribal divisions, which remain significant factors, but almost any possible grievance.

Yesterday Adam and I went to play with African animals: we went first to a sanctuary for baby elephants and watched them kick a football around, get fed and generally be entertaining, before going to see some big old giraffes. And like any good NGO worker we both pulled: apparently snogging giraffes is de rigeur and we were cajoled into doing it after being promised that their saliva is antiseptic. Is it? I hope so. At the elephant sanctuary we were part of a camera-happy group of tourists who were snapping away merrily. When a group of Kenyan schoolchildren arrived the cameras turned almost seamlessly from the elephants straight to them. It made me feel a little uncomfortable, although I felt better after imagining that perhaps the elephants were just a ruse so that the kids could come and stare at the funny westerners with their stupid clothes and unnecessarily complex cameras that they don't know how to use. Or is it just entertainment for the elephants? Either way the African animal count is starting to look a bit more reasonable as a result of the day's activities: giraffes, elephants, a rhino, some warthogs, a baboon, lots of pretty birds... Can I include Kenyan children? Anyway, the tourist industry seems to be functioning still, but barely. The staff at the sanctuary were quite anxious for us to spread the word that Kenya is still open for business, but seemed to have only just enough custom to keep them going. Likewise at the guesthouse, it's fairly empty but they're carrying on more or less as usual. However it's plain as day that if it carries on like this for too much longer people are going to lose jobs and businesses are going to fold. It's a sad thought that these kind, skilled people could soon be without a job for no good reason. For now the best I can do is to give people my business and tip generously.

It was good to get out and about a little bit and see more of the city, even though we only really saw things from the car. I was surprised by the amount of interesting architecture scattered around the city, there were many inventively designed buildings that had clearly taken a lot of effort and money to put together. The CBD was also a bit more impressive close up. The initial signs of affluence that I'd seen from the plane were, when I looked at a map, clearly identifiable as some of the wealthiest parts of town, yet nonetheless we saw a fairly significant body of well-constructed modern-ish dwellings when driving around. We also saw, from a distance, the poorest part of town – the Kibera 'slum' (I don't like pejorative aspect of the word) which is home to about half a million people. This area has been the location of much of the violence.

Today I went to the Kenya office for a few hours to use the internet. Some dedicated staff were in working on a Saturday, while others were unable to come in at all as it was too dangerous for them to be out on the roads in the areas where they live: attacks on passing drivers are not uncommon in some areas. The office's staff, nearly all of whom are Kenyan nationals, are apparently in some shock over the whole situation and some have friends or relatives who have been injured or killed. From the perspective of the west it might seem like a typical “oh Africa's fucked again” scenario, but it seems that to Kenyans this is a real shock.

As has been the case since our arrival in Kenya, we continue to be treated with an implausible degree of warmth and hospitality. People here seem genuinely kind, happy and friendly, and I hope to be able to come back one day when things are more settled. From tomorrow, however, it's Cameroon, speaking French and starting work proper, at least 2 of which I'm looking forward to. And if speaking French is the biggest of my worries then I guess I must be doing okay.

Nairobi 2

01/02/08

The last couple of days have been focused around security training that we, the 4 interns, received from a quite eccentric couple living in Nairobi. One is a retired Major from the British armed forces who seems to have served almost everywhere on the planet in one capacity or another and who is almost a caricature of the old-style British army general, complete with loud clipped voice, dark gallows humour, showy intellectualism and ample eccentricities. I have my suspicions that he's been involved in all sorts of shady business with secret services and the like but there is no evidence for this other than a general coyness that could be for other reasons. The other, his partner, is a security expert who was in charge of security in Iraq for the FCO (which involved living in one of Saddam's palaces for a while) and has been involved in all manner of impressive high level security operations, who is now for some unknown reason working for our organisation. Between them they really know their stuff and it was an enlightening if unusual couple of days. At first their abrasive tendencies were, well, abrasive, however once we were in their home they seemed to relax and showed us some genuine warmth, a lot of humour and some real hospitality. It was certainly appreciated and we learned a lot in a short space of time: about security in general, first and second aid in trauma situations, the range and capability of certain weapons and how to avoid being in their way, unexploded remnants of war, how to behave in a hostage situation, and lots more. The overall feeling was that there is a lot more to know or think about than I had imagined and it would be great to be able to do more. However these couple of days were a whole lot better than nothing.

The first evening after the security training we had some drinks at their massive plush house in a UN-endorsed secure compound, surrounded by trees and amazing wildlife, but had to leave a little early as the person who was to drive us home needed to get back early to avoid being in danger as there had been incidents in the area where he lived. This was another reminder that beyond the western safe-haven there are real problems affecting a lot of people. Of course, we know this, but one of the slightly shocking things about these few days for me has been how easy it is to get used to the safe and affluent bubbles that NGO and UN workers create for themselves and to some extent forget where you are.

The second evening, last night, we went to a nearby bar that had been recommended to us and had some food and beers. There was a Kenyan salsa band playing and the clientele was mostly foreigners of some description along with some affluent Kenyans. After everyone had had a few drinks it seemed to take on the air of a school disco, with people dancing quite self-consciously and in many cases obviously on the pull. It was strange to think that a lot of these people were probably fairly senior UN or NGO staff, people who if they came to lecture on my Human Rights course I probably would have looked at with some degree of deference. Yet here they were, drunk, a little bit desperate, on the pull and dancing badly. It was a scene that was in part sad in its sixth-form naivety and disparity from normal Kenyan life, yet in part also humanising of people who it's easy to see as cogs in a dull bureaucratic machine but who obviously have the same basic needs and emotions as anyone else. It's easy to criticise, but ultimately I think it's hard to begrudge this kind of thing when people are a long way from home for sustained periods of time and typically working quite hard on often very difficult issues. It's not ideal for many reasons, but at least they're here and trying.

On a more serious note, the security situation in central Nairobi doesn't seem to have improved. News came through of more problems over the past two days, including the murder of another opposition politician, and we saw military aircraft fly past a few times, presumably on their way to either attend to or cause trouble. We also saw a couple of vans with furniture strapped to the top, full of people who it is safe to assume had been displaced by the violence. The new theory going around is that this trouble was inevitable whoever had won (I find this very hard to believe) and that a possible solution now is for both Kibaki and Odinga to step down and leave the way clear for a re-run of the election. We will see.

Nairobi 1

29/01/08

I'm currently in Nairobi, Kenya, a country which has seen some horrific and well-publicised violence in the wake of the rigged presidential election just before the turn of the year. My first impressions of Nairobi, viewed from the window seat of a conspicuously empty Boeing 737, were positive. The early morning mist shrouding Mount Kenya formed a romantic image and the lush green vegetation and apparent signs of prosperity were in stark contrast to the burning, looting and shooting depicted on British television. There were ordered plots of land containing well-maintained houses, tarmacked roads and obvious signs of industry. Sleepy streams of cars and vans emerging onto the roads were signs that this would be just another day in a busy urban centre. A bustling city of 3 million inhabitants can't easily be brought to a halt, not when there are things to do, people to see, business to be done.

Yet despite these positive signs, a dose of realism couldn't be avoided. The Central Business District's row of modest skyscrapers had initially given me optimism, but couldn't avoid comparison in my mind to the Las Vegas strip, another row of highly visible buildings that I had seen from the air just a couple of months before. Those Vegas hotels, each one a flippant display of the wealth they generate from the recreational activity of tourists, made the Kenyan CBD appear very limited. A futile comparison perhaps, but nonetheless visually striking.

On the way to our accommodation we were happy to get our first small taste of African wildlife - a grazing giraffe near the airport - and gladly engaged our talkative driver in conversation about Kenyan politics. He described to us how little has changed in day-to-day terms since the violence began, but emphasised the disastrous impact of the violence on the tourist industry, a view corroborated by the evidence of our half-empty plane. His optimism that Kofi Annan would help to broker a solution was tempered by his recognition that once things have gone back to normal for Kenyans, as he thought they soon would, people internationally would nonetheless think very differently of Kenya for a long time to come. Those wounds would not heal quickly. His view, one shared by many here, is that the violence long ago ceased to bear a direct relationship to politics. While political grievances still play a part and were undoubtedly the initial trigger, the violence is also based on one or more of poverty, race and revenge. His view is that there is a hidden continuity; that these tensions were there prior to the elections but only now are manifested in violence. One thing that would keep Nairobi from constant trouble, he thought, was that people couldn't maintain the will or energy to protest when they were struggling for day-to-day sustenance. This was particularly so as the majority of violence within Nairobi takes place in the deeply impoverished slum of Kibera, an opposition stronghold. Many of his views were echoed by others throughout the day, although few shared his optimism about Annan's intervention. The violence too seemed to continue throughout the day as news came through of the assassination of an opposition MP last night, with subsequent violent reprisals ongoing today.

Back in our sheltered corner of town, a haven for westerners and NGOs, things were somewhat calmer although often surreal. At one point our driver pulled over his battered old car, with its inexplicable custom deep red velvet interior, to the verge of a busy carriageway and began to shout vigorously down the phone in Swahili, accompanied by the constant chaos outside and “Everything I do, I do it for you” by Bryan Adams on the car stereo. I think you get used to incongruity very quickly in Africa, but on the first day it still has the potential to make situations feel surreal.

It feels like I've been here for a week not a day, and it seems like we've done a lot more than we really have. At this stage I'm probably having quite a few thoughts about not much activity, but these first naïve thoughts in a new environment are good to reflect upon and record before they get replaced and forgotten.

Matt