ANNE

Work: A depressing week at work after being faced with a seven-year- old boy being whipped in a classroom. The head teacher was out of school for the day, Godam and I were working with about 100 of the kids while the other 700 were left in classrooms unattended by their teachers. They had opted for a very extended interval and were relaxing in the shade of a tree. In fact, they were filling in a VSO questionnaire which they had been told to do after dismissing the pupils at midday. After about an hour all hell was let loose in a room of 135 7-year- olds. Two small boys were fighting. Their teacher got there just before Godam and I and proceeded to whip one child on his back. When I arrived, the boy was crouched against the wall like a frightened animal, screaming in terror and with tears pouring down his grubby little face. Whipping is against the law here but is still widely in use and is one of the issues Godam and I have to tackle. He is poacher turned gamekeeper, for the first whipping I saw was done by him 18 months ago. When we tackled the teacher in question this time, he wondered what else you can do with a stubborn child. He seemed to miss the fact that the incident which had occurred was not the fault of the children but his fault for not doing his job. The next morning at 7.30 the heidie arrived at our house to apologise for the behaviour of his teachers and to check that Godam and I are still willing to work in his school. Naturally the work goes on but that was one of the most sickening things I have ever seen and performed by a man who has two small sons himself.

 Yesterday we had another meeting at the school and went into the issue more fully. We also shared the answers to the questionnaire which the senior pupils had filled in on the day of the incident. The head teacher was not a happy man as we revealed accusations of corruption, tribalism and theft amongst his staff. In fact, things are not as corrupt as they might seem but that is how they are perceived by pupils who do not always understand reasons for things being done or done in a particular way. Again openness is required.

Next stop was Boudoum where huge efforts have been made to encourage more parents to send their children to school. These efforts have been so successful that the school has gone from 390 to 500 pupils. There are 235 small people in the beginners’ class, in the hands of an inexperienced, unqualified teacher. Half of the children sit on planks on the floor (see photo). Imagine - a class of 235 like Tommy! At our usual 4am chat, Hamish and I wondered if this is development.

International Women’s Day:

On the 8^th March I celebrated along with other women from the village. First there was church followed by a gap for people to go home and change out of the traditional black and white worn for communion. Many had bought this year’s Women’s Day cloth in pink, blue or green and made a colourful sight. Others had been persuaded that it is not the cloth that makes the woman so for the first time ever, people joined in wearing the cloth from previous years or just their best outfit. We didn’t have much luck persuading girls to come along; here if you are not married, you are not a woman.

The procession got underway only half an hour late with a visit to the hospital to hand over gifts of salt and matches to the patients (see photo). What would  the NHS think of that, I wonder. We then sang our way along the road towards the chief’s house. Unfortunately, en route, a child was injured by an impatient moto driver and Hamish had to shoot back to the hospital. Fortunately the little boy was not seriously hurt and the procession carried on. With typical bad timing i.e. our procession was late arriving at the Lamidat, the chief was at prayer in the mosque next to his home. When he emerged it was to give what I now think is his usual torrent of abuse to the women that they have not tried hard enough to be organised. Again he repeated his promise of allowing his 4 wives to join in when organisation is better. I suspect pigs might fly.  Photo shows the procession outside the lamidat.

Next stop was the village green, elevated to “stadium” for the day! There the (younger !) women took part in a football match. One team had found strips, many of the other team played fully clothed and in bare feet. Players were joined by a pig for some time. (third photo). Nobody seemed to know which team won and it didn’t seem important. The day finished with a meal at Anne P.’s house to which Hamish was invited. When he realised he would be the only man, he took fright and opted for biscuits and cheese. In fact, food was delivered to him on a tray and we ate the leftovers next day. I think they are still trying to feed him up!

Home: Zidim and the hospital grounds have been more lively this week with the arrival of the French pastor who was here when the big church now in use was built. He arrived with quite an entourage of mixed nationalities and has been fêted everywhere. They filled the two empty houses on the compound and one of them even came to visit us after lights out as he had got lost on his way back from the local MP’s house in total darkness! Everyone has been so excited about the pastor’s visit; the church was cleaned inside and painted outside, removing some of the most attractive cobwebs; furniture was moved from house to house; food was prepared and clothes were made. There was a huge service and a concert with electricity rigged up for the day. We had to stop a small child from chewing contentedly on the bare wires!

Before the pastor’s group left yesterday morning, Doctor Sylvia, who was here until November, 2007, arrived with a friend to take over one of the houses for a couple of weeks. It is really good to see her again. This time she is in the little house we were first in and we are in her old house. Yesterday our present house was busy with locals as they came expecting to see her here. One couple even arrived with a meal for her, just as the four of us were sitting down to share Lydia’s cooking! VSO warned us that we would have to be flexible in Cameroon.

Random Thoughts

·         What I thought was a lovely bright green grasshopper on the gauze door turned out to be a praying mantis!

·         A snake went into one of the millet stalk classrooms while 80 children were seated on the ground. The teacher killed it.

·         Staff demonstrated another punishment which used to be practised in schools: one teacher held the child by his hands while a second teacher held the feet. The pupil was raised into the air while a third member of staff whipped his rear end. I was assured this no longer happens.

Hamish

We seem to be in the midst of a meningitis epidemic.  In fact, Médecins Sans Frontière has a team in the area which is monitoring the outbreak.  There is a major effort under way to increase the level of immunisation in the population.  Meningococcal septicaemia is rare here, whereas it’s not uncommon at home.  Anne Poppelaars says she has never seen it here, but I think I had a case last week, unfortunately.  The child had signs suggestive of meningitis but the lumbar puncture was negative so we treated for the malaria which we had found.  Later in the day the father asked what the rash was which had appeared on his son’s limbs and I’m sure it was the rash of meningococcal septicaemia.  Difficult to be sure since I’ve only seen it three times on white skin and never on black!  We treated with the appropriate antibiotics but the child did not survive.

There are many barriers to effective care here, but the biggest are cultural and financial.  I have one AIDS patient who arrived a month ago really ill.  We treated the acute problems she had and were in the process of doing the work-up to start AIDS treatment.  Her brother decided he wanted to take her home; he was convinced she was going to die and wanted to take her to the traditional healer.  If he couldn’t cure her, the family would rather that she died in her village not in the hospital.  We spent a lot of time trying to persuade them it was in her best interests to stay for treatment.  When I discovered she was no longer in the ward the next day, I asked what had happened to her and was upset to be told she had died.  Three weeks later, her brother came to the hospital and asked if we’d still be willing to treat her: yes, rumours of her death had been grossly exaggerated!  He brought her back two days later, but in a much weakened state.  We started treatment, but unfortunately the family started to get anxious about the size of the medical bill being run up and were on the point of taking her away again.  As I write this, she is still with us after we found a way to support them financially.  The down side is that she won’t take medication prescribed by anyone else here unless I personally say it’s OK!  It’s quite easy to become involved with these patients; the girl in question has a typical story – infected by a husband who “plays away from home” then abandoned by him when she became unwell.  Fortunately, she has a supportive family, so fingers crossed that we can win this one.

Thought we could share an image with you.  This is Thomas Avido who is one of the maintenance team at the mission.  His job is basically to keep the place clean and tidy.  He approaches his work with much the same attitude as a lot of the folk here; for example, Anne has noticed he arrives for work, sits himself down in a good view point and hammers away at an old piece of metal.  This gives the impression that he’s actually working when all he’s doing is watching the world go by.  I call him “Maggie Thatcher”; there is a certain arrogance in the way he holds his head reminiscent of the Iron Lady, and the way he carries his pink bucket is just like she held her handbag!

Finally, there's a shot taken inside a "bush taxi" on our way to Maroua.  Bush taxis are minibuses of considerable age and absolutely zero roadworthiness!  The system is simple; the bus doesn't move until full.  By full they mean a minimum of 22 passengers plus driver in a fourteen seat vehicle.  Hopefully you can get an idea of how crowded it is but the photo does not do justice to the dilapidated state of the vehicle!  The young man standing with his arm along the back of a seat is the "conductor".  He loads the luggage on the roof and opens the door to let passengers off.  He is in addition to the other 22 on board so doesn't get a seat until somebody gets off.  To get to Maroua by public transport we take a moto from Zidim to Gazawa where we meet the tarmac - a journey of 22Km.  That costs 1500 fCFA - about £2.  The bus from Gazawa to Maroua, a journey of 23Km costs 500 fCFA - about 75p.