Instability

Nov 25
It’s back to normal here, honking taxis, the flash of reflected light down in the market, crowds of shoppers, children playing nearby and a couple of falcons wheeling and soaring above.
I spent part of the morning walking through town past the piles of charcoaled coils of wire pushed off the road, blackened pavement where the fires had been. Most of the evidence cast aside and contributing to the general debris at the side of the roads. In a few places piles of garbage mounting, smelling of course.
At the main intersections, police pick-ups, some with bored soldiers sitting in the shade under the vinyl covers, cradling their rifles. I had occasional glimpses of camouflage dressed militia here and there, walking the streets in pairs. In front of every cash machine a long line-up of people.
The vendors are busy, stores open for business, crowds around the women hawking fruit and vegetables beside the market. Young boys and older men trundling loads of firewood in their two wheeled carts.
We hear from locals that there will be a protest march on Monday. The last one here in Bamenda was “moved” to Buea so not much happened while we were gone to the farm. Some cleanup I imagine. Removing the piles of burnt tires, broken up phone kiosks and the hulk of a car off the road.
The protesters needing an outlet for their frustrations, piled tires and whatever else they could find, onto the roads across the city, setting them on fire to limit the mobility of the military.

 The response was, in my mind both pathetic and provocative. Various extensions of the military (so many  to account for and all their signs in French) racing up and down the roads randomly firing either tear gas or smoke bombs (I didn’t see anyone in tears or suffering) into the neighbourhoods, whether there were people assembled or not…! Like boys with big toys, showing off their firepower.
The helicopter surveillance (they seem to have only one) filled the air the day before we escaped with it’s noxious noise, circling the town wending it’s way across the landscape monitoring whatever.
After 50+ years of inaction and stonewalling the Anglophones are fed up. The president in power for more than 30 years appears to spend more time in luxury hotels outside the country than in. Sounds like the definition of absentee landlord living off the avails. He’s worth a fair chunk of change from funnelling monies received for the country into various offshore accounts. It helps support his playboy son heir-apparent in this fiasco. At least according to what I’ve heard.
There is talk of secession. When the British gave up their rule here, there were two Cameroons and most of the country determined that unity was the best option. That sentiment remains only on the French side now. There has been a constant erosion of rights and privileges, installations of government officials who don’t speak English and general ignoring of the desire for dialogue.
For us temporary residents, it was disturbing, anxiety raising and unpleasant; breathing in the smoke from burning tires (our  floors were covered in the dust, and this is with all windows and doors closed) random gunshots and people scattering whenever a military vehicle approached. Their laughter,  seen from my perspective, either nervous or disdainful.

 I had no desire to be stuck in civil war or any kind of violent  confrontation. That night the streets were uncharacteristically silent.
 Our driver had been unable to get past a barrier the day before so when we heard that something might happen we arranged for a quick getaway early in the morning.
Out at the farm it was quite peaceful, only a few passes overhead from the helicopter, birds singing and a beautiful star filled sky. We spent a couple of nights there, did some work on the stoves, some cultivation, chopped firewood and talked with the neighbours. Their perspective was we should not worry, nothing would come from it and everything soon back to normal, so we returned. It was ironic to be happy to hear the sounds of a busy city as we drifted off to sleep.
Monday? maybe back to the farm. And if things really get nasty? Already making plans to leave the country. But only if necessay.

making bread and ovens

I have been making bread for a few years, I love the sensual feel of spongy dough, hanging off my hand working it’s way toward edibility with my help and the intervention of a hot oven.
The construction of dough via the cultivation of yeast is a topic in itself. Combinations of ingredients coming together to be transformed into something that will support peanut butter and honey or cheese,  salami and pickles. The final process of converting those raw ingredients, albeit some chemical changes, depending on one’s process, into a firm and solid product that, not infrequently, elicits praise and acknowledgment.
From the idea to the physical takes some work. I grew up with an oven in the house. Almost everywhere I’ve lived there has been one attached to a stove, sometimes a separate entity mounted on the wall or a table top model. And my therapeutic spiritual practise has been supported by the punching, kneading and smacking down smartly of various incarnations and combinations of ingredients in dough form, manifesting eventually into generally delicious bread.
Since embarking on a nomadic life in the African countries I have found it necessary to create the reality myself, and with help, building ovens to satisfy my desire to make, bake and eat decent bread.
I will not attempt to define or describe what constitutes “decent bread” but I will say there is not much if any of it available here.
Through the inspiration of my partner Elke, we have been exploring the possibilities of decreasing incidence of smoke inhalation, deforestation and  increasing fuel efficiency by showing local folks how to build earth stoves . Ovens just seem to be the next step! In Mnenia Tanzania at the Amarula Campsite I made my first African Pizza.

Elke has built a few ovens and with a little of my help and the community women’s groups in each location we’ve constructed them using the local clay earth, sand and empty glass bottles. Creating a stable base is primary, we used  native stone dry stacked and covered with cob. Once it dries a base of sand is laid level and the bottles placed so as to create the most insulation possible under the floor.

Covered with sand then cob and tile, bricks or furnace refractory stone (if you can get it!) to make a smooth floor in the oven. After we pile wet sand on into a large mound, cover with paper then more cob.

 Later we put another layer over of insulating cob, a mix of 50% sawdust that creates a good barrier for holding in the heat.

 Once the cob is dry we cut out the door shape remove the sand and make a chimney directly above the doorway. It actually gets two doorways, one to shut the heat in for baking and an outer metal door for when we  fire the chamber.

I like to make the dough the night before, punch it down a few times and then while the fire burns prepare any other things I’m cooking.
It takes about 4 hours of hot fire to get good stored heat. Some folks build a fire the day before to create a residual bank of heat within, then another on the day of baking.
When it seems ready, the wood reduced to charcoal, I scrape out the remaining coals and as much ash as possible then wipe the floor with a very wet cloth. Gloves are good and long handles on the tools. The heat is intense.

 The first pizza was done in 10 minutes and burnt around the edges!
We baked 8 that night back to back with a small loaf laid  directly on the floor,  in between,  near the end and a birthday cake once the heat was diminished somewhat.
Once everyone had had enough we rolled out the remaining dough,  spread the pizza sauce on then rolled and cut to make pizza rolls for breakfast. I took them out before going to bed. In the morning put them back in covered to warm.
I  had brought a bundt pan from Germany for cakes. It worked well for cinnamon rolls, 8 in a circle, they rose up nicely. During the previous week in town we checked out a number of second hand stores, lots of blenders dishes and pots but almost no baking dishes. We did manage to find a small cookie sheet. Now I’m  looking for bread pans. I’ve seen them near the main market made of aluminum.. not my favourite. So now every time we go out to Ndanifor Permaculture Ecovillage I’ll be baking, cinnamon rolls, mixed grain bread and the occasional cake… Come for tea!