Shots vs Totes

Remind me to never order a shot at the bar! NEVER EVER AGAIN!

So last night, while having a few drinks with my new friends from Bor, Sudan, they explained to me why it was important that I request a “tote” of liquor at the bar, as opposed to a “shot”.

As I’ve already said, there are a lot of Ugandans and Kenyans in south Sudan. Most of them came about two years ago when the region began rebuilding and there was a great deal of business opportunities. You can come across Kenyans or Ugandans working in restaurants that mainly cater to foreigners. They are mechanics, drivers, hair dressers, selling produce in the markets. You name it, they’re there.
Unfortunately, many Kenyan and Ugandan women have also taken on some of the “older professions” in our society. Prostitution here is as common as anywhere and apparently in order to be more “tactful” or less forthright about their “services” some women would approach men or vice versa and ask if they’d like a “short time” or how much it would cost for a “short time”. As with most slang terms, “short time” was soon shortened to “short” for short.

So when I approached the bar and asked for a “shot”, I was a bit confused when the bartender looked at me questioningly and proposed 35 Sudanese Pounds (SDP)- roughly $18. Things around here are quite expensive, but $18 for a shot is just ridiculous! So I asked him again, pointing at my rum of choice. (I had bought a liter of mango juice for breakfast it and it was delish and would pair perfectly with a shot of rum as a night cap.) Though a bit confused at my gesture, he repeated 35 SDP again and opened his hands as if to say he didn’t have anymore than that.

At this point, I was becoming slightly annoyed because I refused to believe it cost that much. So I asked him if “Grande” was the only type of rum he had and if there were any that were any cheaper. At that question he said, “Ohhhh, the rum? A tote of that is 7SDP (roughly $4).” And then hurriedly gave me my order.

It wasn’t until later in the night that I found out that the whole time, the bartender thought I was a Kenyan prostitute! I’m glad that we cleared that up before I retreated back to my room, however, I’m still a bit offended that he only offered me 35 SDP…surely I’m worth more than that!

Bor is not so "Bor"-ing

I am in Bor now and I like it a lot better than I did Juba! It really proves how important it is to keep cities clean! Bor may have a few less concrete buildings, turn abouts, and no paved roads, but it’s clean! Dust and all!

The other thing I have thoroughly enjoyed about Bor is the overwhelming hospitality that I’ve experienced. I am sure that the town doesn’t get too many out of town visitors, but they sure do know how to treat them when they come. Due to a bit of “miscommunication”, we had no where to stay once we arrived, but a new friend at the World Food Program pulled some strings and got my colleague and I nice rooms at the Freedom Hotel. (As someone else pointed out, the Freedom Hotel and the Liberty Hotel are both clear odes to the impending referendum in Sudan).

The Freedom Hotel is a great hotel with wonderful staff. I also got my first fully authentic Sudanese meal and I loved every bit of it. I’m not sure what they called everything, but in a nutshell is was fufu and okra prepared differently. But it tasted almost as good as my mother’s and I was very happy and satisfied! Another night, I also had some beans that were absolutely delicious and didn’t enter into combat with my bowels.

My other new friend, the hotel manager, said that the next time I come he’d have pizza and ice cream and I begged him to reconsider… Hopefully he realizes that I’m very serious! Dinners here have been one of the highlights of my trip!

My Little Plastic Container

A lot of you have asked about my lodging in Sudan- with good reason!

Here are a few pics of my "little plastic container" in Juba. It actually reminds me more of a trailer.

Here are shots that I stole from their website.





And these I took of the inside myself.

Runny Eggs- YUCK!

It seems like every post is about food. Sorry, but it’s one of the main things that I look forward to when I travel. I love trying different foods and learning new ways of preparing things. I’ve realized that with many African, Caribbean, and Latin American cultures, we use all of the same ingredients, just prepared differently.

The place we’re staying at in Juba, tries it’s darndest to cater to the varied pallets of each of its guests. I haven’t really spoken to anyone else who is staying at my hotel, but I can tell that they’re from all over the world by their style of dress, language, and accents. Unfortunately, my hotel is trying a bit too hard and the food is disgusting. It’s as if the cook has tried to hard to learn how to cook an item from everywhere, that they haven’t mastered anything. Would you rather get straight Cs or two As and a bunch of Ds? I personally like As…

So despite their being curried chicken, goat stew, ugali and fresh vegetables, fried rice, and pastas with all types of sauce- it’s all gross.

This morning when I actually work up and got ready leaving enough time for breakfast, I was ecstatic to see that there was an omelet bar. It took me back to my college days. When I ordered my eggs, I specifically told the cook that I wanted them fried hard because that previous week, I had been given runny eggs in Nairobi and had to send them back when I realized that they were runny. But of course, despite my clear request, what I was I given, runny eggs! YUCK!

I gave them back to the chef and while he was refrying them, I asked him why he insisted on giving me runny eggs. (Some of you may know how inquisitive and slightly confrontational I can be). He proceeded to tell me that since most of their guests are White Europeans, they tend to runny eggs. Well, I’m clearly not White, so why give them to me even when I requested they be friend hard? And he said that that’s just how they’re trained to do it. Huh?!?!?

Long story, not so short, it seems as though in an effort to please everyone or assumably please everyone, tings are actually made worse… and taste as gross as runny eggs. Sorry if I offended any of you runny egg lovers.

I Was Raised AFRICAN

I think what many people fail to realize about me, is that I was raised African, Cameroonian to be exact. I grew up eating plantain and eggs for breakfast, jellof rice and roasted chicken for lunch, and fufu or gari with okra for dinner. I crave oko obong, eru, achu, ekwang, egussi pudding, koki corn, and nkwi. At 20+ years, I have no qualms about begging my mother to cook for me, because it tastes so much better when she prepares it. As a child, puff puff, chin chin, and coconut sweet were given to me as treats. As I child, I also hated the smell of miondo, but now I love it so much, that I buy bundles of it each time I go home, freeze it and devour it for months!
So when I tell you that I want African food and you tell me that I’ll get “enough of it later”, you are either punishing me or insulting a part of me. For the sake of peace, I’ll just ignore you while I go looking for roasted corn on the side of the road.

Is this really going to be the capital city?

Today, I flew to Juba, the capital of the southern part of Sudan. In a nutshell… this is not Nairobi… and sadly not even comparable with Bangui….
Some may think Im being a bit extreme based on the way I described Bangui, but after all is said and done, the government of the Central African Republic was very centralized, so Bangui was "La Coquette" in relation to the rest of the country. I am optimistically hoping that since southern Sudan operates under a federal system with distinct states, the conditions in Juba won’t be reflective of those throughout the south, but then again, it is supposed to be the capital of the south… I’m very concerned.

Expat Lifestyle Might Don’t Make It…

During the last few days in Nairobi it has become painfully clear to me that if I decide to live in any city for an extended period of time, I absolutely can not live the “expatriate lifestyle”. Almost every part of every day has felt manufactured and surreal. Hamburgers, hummus and pita bread, cinnamon rolls, and a whole bunch of other crap that was obviously imported and that I would almost never touch at home. So why am I eating it here?!?!? Why is it “so difficult” to find a restaurant that prepares Kenyan food??? Though I will admit that during Havanna night, I thoroughly enjoyed the prawns and tostones! =)

But it is extremely frustrating when the wait staff is a caught off guard when I request Kenya tea or coffee and insist that I do not want Lipton, Tetley, or an Americano. I pay $2 every morning for Mayorga coffee, which is in my opinion the absolute best Kenyan coffee in DC and it doesn’t hurt that their “African” blend is a mixture of beans from Kenya, Ethiopia, Cameroon, and Uganda. But since I’ve been in Kenya, it’s been almost impossible to get “local” coffee! This doesn’t make sense…

Oh, but it does. While on my way to Java House, a popular spot in expat central, I asked my driver to recommend a good Kenyan restaurant for my last night in town. He immediately told me that I wouldn’t like Kenyan food, if I didn’t like meat. Who told him that I didn’t like meat?!?!? In his defense, this is what he assumed. I’m sure he’s come across quite a few vegetarians from abroad.

I hope that I’ll get the chance to visit again soon because don’t feel like I’ve experienced Kenya at all. I haven’t seen anything that distinguishes it from any other city in the world. But then again, I am off to Juba shortly, so I may be in store for quite a treat... be it good or bad...

Majority/Minority… Huh?

I’m still a bit confused… Why do I, a black girl, feel like a minority in East Africa??? But on the other hand, I’ve been around so many Americans, that I kind of feel like Im in the majority, and haven’t even left DC.

The night at Havanna was fun, but as I said, made me feel like I never left home in so many ways. Oddly enough, the bathroom was one of the most alarming points. As I was waiting in line for the bathroom (because it makes sense to have only one ladies’ stall in a restaurant/bar with over 100 people drinking profusely), I couldn’t help but notice that everyone sounded just like me! My “American” accent didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. But what was most odd, was that no one was surprised that I was American. Usually when I travel, I’m used to people being taken aback once I start speaking because they assume that I am a local. Nope, not here.

Nairobi Nights

Apparently, in Nairobi’s expat community, the weekend starts on Thursday night. I could have sworn that I was telecast to Marshall Street or College Park or Adams Morgan (or any other college town for those of you who are unfamiliar with those locales). My colleague and I went to a Cuban restaurant for dinner and drinks for her friend. When we walked in, the scene was quite overwhelming. The bar was packed and people were literally hovering over each other talking, drinking, and having a good time. I was actually taken aback because I wasn’t expecting any of this- at all. I don’t know if it’s because it was only my second night in the cit or the clientele, which I wasn’t expecting, but it was all a lot to take in, especially at once. Luckily, we were able to retreat to the back of the restaurant and found a table in the corner, where the scene was a bit less “overwhelming”.

The food was DELICIOUS! It was Cuban and I had prawns with tostones (fried green plaintains). I thoroughly enjoyed my meal along with a bottle of wine and great conversation. I almost forgot where I was until it was time to leave our little nook in the corner of the restaurant.

Walking back out and through the bar centered party that had literally tripled in size was quite an experience. In addition to the young professional expats who were by this time fairly drunk, some Kenyan prostitutes joined the party. Under normal circumstances, I would have been a tad bit self-conscious that someone might mistaken me for a prostitute, but luckily I was fully dressed. Them, not so much… But they were having a great time, gyrating against smitten European men, while onlookers got sneak peaks of their “goodies”.

As I meandered through the crowd, one decided to greet me with a head butt to the forehead. For a split second I wondered if she thought I had encroached into her territory and was fighting me for her “track”, but then she profusely apologized and I acknowledged that she was drunk and in an effort to impress her potential john, she exaggerated her laugh, throwing her head back and right into my forehead. Great.
But I was able to escape and without any knots on my head in the morning.

Rediscovering My Youth- Africa’s Infatuation with 90s Music

I’ve noticed that many Africans (I hate to generalize the whole continent, but it’s true) have a deep appreciation of 90s RnB and Contemporary Pop music. And I love every minute of it!!! Today while doing work in a local coffee shop, my colleague and I were crooned to the sounds of Boyz to Men, Brandy’s entire Full Moon album, Aaliyah, and I almost jumped for joy when Shania Twain and Celine Dione came on. She thinks that I am completely cheesy for enjoying it so much, especially Celine Dione- my colleague is also Canadian, but I can’t help myself! There’s something about hearing “Water Runs Dry”, “Full Moon”, “At Your Best You Are Loved”, “From This Moment”, and “It’s All Coming Back to Me” consecutively that just soothes my soul!
Some of the best music was put out in the 90s and I wish there were public radio stations that were dedicated to it. It was probably the last period in music where I appreciated music from every genre. Aerosmith, Tanya Tucker, Alanis Morrisette, Nirvana, Greenday, Hanson, Total, LL Cool J, Jodeci, Wu Tang Clan, Brandy, Whitney Houston, and of course Mariah Carey- you name it, I liked it! And they play it allll here!

What a Calm Airport

I've arrived in Nairobi!!! And is it odd that the thing that has struck/pleased me the most is the fact that this is one of the calmest airports I've ever arrived in???
No one harassed me about my yellow fever card, no one rifled through my luggage, no one even asked for bribes (major!). The most annoying part of my arrival were the tourists who stood in the line for those who already had visas, even though they had to purchase theirs. This tacked an extra half hour to my wait time, but it was okay because everything else was stress free! My colleague and our driver were even waiting for me when I walked out sans harrassment!!!

For a recap of a not so "stress free" and more "authentic" experience, read here and here.

Loooong Overdue

I haven't updated my blog in almost exactly a year. This is completely unacceptable. Soon I am leaving for a trip to Sudan via Nairobi where I assume I'll rejuvenate my muse.

Poverty Kills

Yesterday, over 100 people and counting were killed and another 200 plus severely injured when a gas tanker overturned and civilians rushed to siphon gas from the truck. To their dismay, the truck cut on fire, causing a fatal catastrophe.



It's difficult to understand why anyone in their right mind would run towards an overturned gas truck, but hundreds of people could only think of the benefits of free fuel and put their lives on the line. Sadly, the outcome was a great loss of life.

This morning I almost came to tears looking at images of people sprawled out on the floors of Kenyan hospitals, which could not absorb the number of people with life threatening burns and injuries.



I remember when the same thing happened in Cameroon and in Nigeria. Though high, the casualties were less than in this instance and you have to wonder at which point will people learn that fuel to last a few weeks is not worth the rest of your lives! But poverty kills in so many ways....

BREAKING NEWS: Documented Human Rights Abuse in Cameroon

Yesterday, Amnesty International released a report (Cameroon: Impunity Underpins Persistent Abuse) asserting that Cameroon has used violent means to suppress anti-government protesters and cited large-scale protests against the constitutional amendment extending the presidents term of office as an example of wide spread human rights abuse.

Please note that my blog title is extremely sarcastic in the sense that Cameroonians have suffered from human rights abuse as long as President Paul Biya has been in power. Besides the fact that he is a dictator and has used corruption to eliminate any possibility for democracy, police officers shameless harass citizens on a daily basis and government abuse and corruption has become second nature and expected by most citizens. Biya has even shut down tv and radio stations that criticize him and expose his abuse of civilians.

I am happy, however, that Amnesty International has finally brought attention to what has been happening in Cameroon for decades and incidents that took place in February 2008 when President Biya amended the constitution, extending his presidential term limit. I remember when this happened my mother had planned to visit Cameroon that month, but she had to postpone her trip because major cities across the country were extremely chaotic. For days there were protests and rioting. Cars and business were looted and burned and the police killed over 100 civilians.



All of this went virtually ignored by the international press and President Biya has not been aggressively criticized by international leaders for his blatant abuse of power.

Biya will be 76 in two weeks and this is his 27th year in power. He has successfully stolen multiple elections. His amendment of the consitution to remove term limits will allow him to run again in 2011 for another 7 year term.


I won't go into the hypocrisy that the international community has shown throughout President Biya's regime, but I am happy that finally the violence that took place last February is being acknowledged by a group large enough to bring attention to and possibly discourage such rampant human rights abuse in Cameroon. What is even more despicable, as you should read in Amnesty's report is that they have been trying to legally research the incidents that have been reported to them in Cameroon, but the authorities will not give them consent! One can only hope that this report will shame the regime and authorities and they will put an end to this protracted abuses, especially with elections being held in the near future.

Obama Girl!

I knew before traveling that there’d be a great deal of Obamania on this side of the hemisphere considering how closely the elections were followed around the world and media images and stories I’ve seen from African news outlets. I expected lots of questions about the elections and what I thought Obama would do for Africa. However, I haven’t really gotten much of that, but since arriving in Cameroon, my colleague and I are being constantly referred to as “Obama girls”. Luckily it’s an endearing term because I love Obama. I couldn’t imagine if I was referred to as a “Bush girl”. YUCK! It has so many negative connotations.
But the funniest part about being an “Obama Girl” in Cameroon is that most people consider the two of us “Black American” because we are here representing a US based organization. It’s a bit odd for me to be referred as such because I consider myself Cameroonian American, but it is even odder for my colleague who was born and raised in Cameroon! And it gets even funnier when we meet expats who try to educate us on the ways of Cameroon.
However, I credit this to the diversity of Cameroon. For instance, there are certain countries in the world where their citizens are easily identifiable by their features. But Cameroonians throughout the country look completely different. Im sure it has a lot to do with its central location on the continent, but I also think it has a great deal to do with the open door system of the land and its people. During this trip, I’ve witnessed how easily people flow in and out of the country. I’m sure this is an issue of border control, but its also influenced by how welcoming the people are. Right now I am traveling throughout towns bordering the Central African Republic. You can see CAR from here and Central Africans are constantly crossing the border. Below are pictures of Central Africans crossing a small river into Cameroon.

The City is POPPIN

It feels so odd to be back in such a lively environment considering how relatively isolated I spent the last week and a half. CAR was completely desolate and the streets were usually empty by 9pm each night. But in Yaounde, I can barely sleep because people are outside my window singing, dancing, and talking loudly in the streets until all times of the night. There’s definitely a deejay on my block spinning hits from the last three decades. And it’s great (as long as I can fall asleep at a decent hour!).
Yaounde has definitely changed quite a bit since I was here. I don’t remember it being so New Yorkish, but it’s a great feeling. I can see myself living here if I’m given the right job with the right salary. I think it’s a great combination of the modernity Ive become accustomed to and the warm weather, great food, and sense of a familial community that I seek.
It’s also great to have options of food to eat. I hate to continue to compare the two, but my diet was quite static in CAR. I’ve already told you about our adventure trying to find dinner in the North, but even in Bangui there were very few choices. Choices were very limited because of security in the town. Though there is no fighting or rebel occupation like in other places, because the streets empty out by 9, its mostly people who are up to no good who are out during dinner hours. So during one of our first few nights, my colleague and I were harassed by a few street kids who were clearly high off drugs and it wasn’t a comfortable feeling. Also, everyone kept recommending to us the spots that expats frequent and they were usually not local restaurants. I did not come all the way to Central Africa to eat Chinese, but I was forced to on one night. Though I will say it’s the best Chinese food I’ve ever had! But Yaounde has been completely different, besides the plethora of street vendors, there’s a million restaurants on every block with absolutely delicious food and a varied selection. I’m definitely happy to be back in Cameroon.
Tomorrow I will be traveling to Bertoua, which is the capital of the Eastern region. The East is historically one of the poorest regions in the country and I am told that it is nothing like Yaounde or Douala. However, considering what I witnessed in CAR, I’m sure it will still be an upgrade!

Au Revoir Bangui

Today I’m on my way back to Douala and then I’ll head out to Yaounde the following morning. This leg of the mission has ended on a good note. We got a lot of new information about the humanitarian situation and I was glad to visit the Central African Republic. Unfortunately, I don’t have much good to share about the country. I really hoped that stories I’d heard were exaggerations, but they weren’t. This is a chronically underdeveloped failed state. The government concentrates itself on Bangui (the capital) and completely neglects the rest of the country. And I’m not even sure what they’ve done in Bangui because it’s the most bare and basic capital city I’ve ever visited.
The country is land locked, road locked, and as a result access locked. It is virtually impossible to travel freely throughout the country despite the security situation. The presence of rebels and bandits only further exacerbates the situation, but roads connecting major cities are not paved, there is virtually no policing, and there are no ports of entry. It’s a truly sad situation and there needs to be an overhaul in the regime in order to start addressing the needs of the people and the country.
On a more exciting note, when I thought traveling through rebel territory was frightening enough, my colleague and I decided to stop and talking to a group of rebels on our way back to Bangui. I was a nervous wreck because they all had rifles (old, but they still worked!) and they looked RUGGED! They called the commander of their unit out of his hiding place to speak with us and he was scary looking. He looked like he had been living in the bush for months, but I am almost positive he was simply living off the villagers. He had locked hair that was extremely dirty and was just scruffy. We spoke to him and second in command and though they wouldn’t go into details about their cause because they have an official spokesperson, one said he wanted peace while the other said he wanted power. Considering the fact that the peace dialogues between the government and rebel group begin on Monday, it may be a good idea for them to decide on an agenda…Unfortunately I did not take a picture of them. I was too scared to ask, but in the end it was a harmless encounter. A few of the rebels were peeking into our truck to see what we had, but it was more so curiosity because they didn’t touch anything or ask any questions. Even though I’m happy the rebels allowed us to travel through their occupied territory without disruption, its unfortunate that they often completely terrorize and loot the villages and communities they are supposedly fighting for.

What are two Cameroonians doing in CAR?

This was the silly question asked of me and my colleague today by an expat who has lived throughout Africa for over 10 years.
The question should be what are the French, Americans, Canadians, Germans, British, etc. doing in CAR? And more importantly, what have the French done to CAR in over a century of occupation because this country is still chronically underdeveloped!
I find it ridiculous, though unsurprisingly that many people we meet are surprised that two Cameroonian women are conducting an assessment of the situation in CAR. Besides the fact that we were sent here by our organization, I don’t see why anyone should be surprised that Cameroonians are concerned about the humanitarian situation in a neighboring country, considering the conflict has directly affected Cameroon! I think that is an issue that needs to be dressed on so many levels. Too often we expect and wait for Western powers to come to our aid and as neighbors are not as concerned as we should be for our welfare. In fairness, the countries of Central Africa, have come together and formed a peacekeeping force for the Central African Republic. And many countries, including Cameroon and Chad, have opened their doors to refugees from the Central African Republic. This being said, we need to be as proactive as possible in helping one another solve problems within the continent, so that foreigners are not shocked that neighboring countries are interested enough in the wellbeing of their nation that they would conduct assessment missions in order to deduce the necessary level of response and fill gaps in coordination. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, “If we don’t save ourselves, who will?”

Traffic Takes on New Meaning

While riding down the roads in the northwestern part of CAR, I’ve felt like a celebrity. Children rush out of their homes when they hear the truck rumbling through the dusty, bumpy roads and drown you in a chorus of “Bonjours” and “Barraallahs”, the main greetings in CAR, while waving feverishly. It’s the cutest most joyous site ever and it never stops feeling good. Even four hours into the ride when it’s still happening.
As a person of African descent, I’m not used to this type of attention in rural settings. My white counterparts almost always get it because many times children in rural settings have seen very few and sometimes never seen a White person. But in a truck with two Blacks, two Central Africans and two Cameroonians (the neighboring) country, this type of rejoicing seems odd.
But then I thought about what these villages and children have been through. Consistently for the past two to three years, Central Africans in the Northwest have heard trucks roll through their villages only to be caught in the middle of government and rebel cross fighting and having their homes looted and burned in retaliation for “supporting” military factions that have taken control of their villages. For years the rumbling of trucks has been an ominous sign to gather your family and belongings as quickly as possible because trouble was coming.
But in the last year, the rumbling of trucks has taken on new meaning. As aid agencies have began to set up in CAR, their trucks brought assistance to these families in great need. What was once used as an alarm of intruders has now become a ring of hope for improving their living conditions.
So though it was apparent that in some villages, the citizens where still petrified of foreigners in trucks (especially those villages who were currently occupied by military factions), there were others that rejoiced at the site. It was especially powerful that the children recognized what the presence of aid agencies meant for them and sent their good blessings.

Week in Review

I can’t believe I’ve only been away for one week! It hasn’t been a bad week, but very long. The long days everyday have all seemed to run into each other and it doesn’t feel like a weekend at all. Besides the fact that I’ll still be working, CAR doesn’t have much to offer on the social front. In the northern region it has gotten very dark by 6pm each night and even if I felt safe venturing out to find the nightlife, there isn’t one to be found. Even on the UN Compound in Paoua, where I stayed my first night in the north, everyone was in their rooms by 9pm. Expats have never had a problem partying and drinking in the midst of development and humanitarian crisis, but I think it’s different in CAR because the security situation here is so insecure that no one wants to take a chance and getting caught in the crossfire.
In Bocaranga, where I am now, things definitely seem livelier because this community seems to be doing much better, but many expats are just recently arriving to the community and don’t seem to have their social networks set up yet. And I would prefer to socialize with locals, but again considering the security situation, my American accent and inability to speak French fluently would make me a prime target for mischief.
When I was in Bangui, we went to a few restaurants and tried to stay out a bit later to enjoy the warm nights, but even though we were staying in a seemingly secure apartment/hotel there were tons of street children outside relentlessly asking for money and at one point our apartment guard even misbehaved.
But I will admit that ending the nights earlier have given me enough energy to get through my extremely long days and also enough time to go through all of the things I’ve seen and heard throughout the day. And, I’ve been consistently updating this blog, so that’s always a good thing!