Women's Day International and the Soaps
Sunday, March 8, was International Women's Day and was celebrated here with a parade and lots of parties. In Cameroon, women buy special women's day material and have dresses made from it to wear on March 8 and then throughout the year. The cloth has images of women doing various things and has inscriptions in English and French about women and women's values. The colors this year were pink, green, or blue. I had a green dress made and I would love to show you a photo of it but I can't find the cord that connects my camera to the computer! Hopefully, later.
I went to the parade with Madame Panka, whose husband is the pharmacist downstairs. She had a special seat in the grandstand and put me next to her. This was better than walking in the parade, which I could have done with the university women professors, but with my new shoes and aching feet I was happy to sit. Then we went to the Prefect's house for a drink and some snacks. Many speeches were made about violence against women, which was the theme this year. The mayor of Dschang spoke very strongly against this type of violence in the Dschang community and I wish we could see municipal officials in the US stand up against such things in their speeches--I really can't imagine it, however.
So it was a very serious day but also a rather frivolous one. After the parade and speeches women in their dresses roamed the streets and bars were full to the brim. There was a lot of drinking. According to Elvis and Geraldine, women's day ends in some divorces when the man won't let his drunk wife enter the home that evening. Alas.
I also learned something very interesting about women and men here in Cameroon, which perhaps extends to other African countries (at least we've seen it in Nigerian soap operas). The man always sleeps in the conjugal bed facing the door (supposedly to prevent robbers from getting to his wife). The woman sleeps "behind him" and at an angle. She must be behind. Wow, this is very odd for Americans! I can't imagine it since I'm always rolling all over the place. Not allowed after you are married, apparently.
Since I mentioned soap operas, I should say that although we don't have a TV we somehow manage to keep up with a few soaps, which are called "films" here--in hotel rooms, bars and restaurants, and from visiting people. Cameroonians seem to love soaps. They especially love the Brazilian, Mexican, and Nigerian soaps, which are dubbed into French. Linden and I especially liked "La Mujer de mi vida," which was popularly called "Barbarita" after the main character. It would appear that EVERYONE in Cameroon knows who Barbarita is and has an opinion of her, even children. Barbarita's lover/husband was always called "Antonio Adolpho"--what a mouthful. Barbarita doesn't seem to be showing anymore, however, so we have turned to "The Mother-in-Law," which must be Mexican. There is also "Paloma," which concerns Paloma's on-again-off-again relationship with Diego, who seems to be angry all the time and tries to look like a pirate. For some reason the show only allows her to choose between Diego and a really whimpy guy that she works with (he wears glasses--give me a break). I taught Linden that in fact there may be at least THREE men in the world, and that Paloma should look for someone else entirely.
We also enjoy some of the Nigerian soaps, especially "Submission." Yep, that's the name. It's not clear if the title refers to the need to submit to the husband or to the mother-in-law. This mother ruins her daughters' lives and even sleeps with one of her sons-in-law, which I found absolutely appalling. Geraldine says it is because the mother is wicked and that the wife cannot blame the husband. ????? Anyway, in the end the mother kills herself a la Madame Bovary, but here she eats cement. Wow.
Back to reality, so to speak: I was in Buea last weekend and attended some events honoring the British anthropologist Shirley Ardener, who has worked in Cameroon for 60 years, at the university. Nalova Lyonga, who is an administrator there and who is working with Case on our study abroad in Buea project, was so wonderful to us and invited me back in May to give a paper. Linden had met Nalova last spring in Cleveland and informed her this time that "you are not as dark as you were last year." She can still get away with that for a year or two, the darling.
Linden is at her new school. I chose a private one, much as I didn't want to, because the Dschang school has 80 students in her class and she was already rather traumatized by the 58 in the village school. Now, she is the ONLY student in her class, since this is a new school and they mostly have young kids so far. The director is wonderful, a former administrator at the university. It is an anglophone school but he hired a teacher for her who is Francophone so she can continue lessons in French. She is very happy there and has a really sharp uniform which I will hopefully post a photo of soon. And the name of the school? --Ngumy's Fantastic International School. Really!! (Ngumy is the director's daughter.)
I will write in a few days about: the fire down the street, Elvis' (resolved) problems with the cops here, and Linden and my stay overnight in the hospital (we are fine now). . .
Comments