INTRODUCTION
As a Secondary Education major, I intensely study and immensely value education. Yet, I realize that formal classroom education is a western phenomenon which was brought to other parts of the world mostly through the spread of colonialism. I have often wondered about the role of education in non-western cultures. What do people in these cultures actually think about education? Is formal, western-style classroom education beneficial or necessary? I arrived in the country of Cameroon, Central Africa with these questions in my mind, curious to investigate the reality of the educational sphere in a previously colonized country.
I chose the village of Ngan-ha in the Adamoua Province as my location to study education, as this village was untouched by secondary education until three months ago. In September, 2000, the same month that I landed in Cameroon, Ngan-ha founded its first secondary school. Upon my arrival in Ngan-ha, I was curious about the interaction and tension between rich village tradition and history in contact with the western phenomenon of secondary education. Predominately an agricultural village, I wondered how education would be used by children who grow up and continue to live all their lives in Ngan-ha cultivating the land like their ancestors. Why is education important in this village? Or, is it important at all? What do the inhabitants of this village actually think?
I commenced my research by asking a variety of people in the village how their lives have been impacted by and what contact they have had with formal classroom education. Expecting some people to vocalize strong opinions against education, I was surprised to find that most people think, or at least say they think, that education is extremely important. Bias could have played a role in these responses, as perhaps the population vocalized only what they thought I wanted to hear. The people of Ngan-ha express a desire and interest in education, yet most inhabitants do not have an education above an elementary school level, and the future of their childrenís education is uncertain. So, I began to investigate the barriers, or obstacles, that create difficulties in obtaining an education.
I found that education is extremely complex as it encompasses every aspect of peopleís lives. Religious, social, economic, and political conditions all contribute to the tensions between the village and the new secondary school. Residents of Ngan-ha may sincerely believe that education is valuable, but they also believe their culture and tradition are valuable, and often the two conflict, not necessarily in ways that I anticipated.
In the following pages, I hope to place the reader in my village to experience and learn the stories of real people. I begin Chapter One by introducing Ngan-ha, setting the scene by describing the village and presenting daily life as I experienced and perceived it. As this creates the context for the secondary school, I continue in Chapter Two explaining the foundation of the school. In Chapter Three, I try to recapture the stories of the inhabitants of Ngan-ha and their perceptions of education. After illustrating the impact of education on these peopleís lives and their resultant thoughts about formal schooling, in Chapter Four I try to recount the personal experiences of the Ngan-ha population to explain the complexities and difficulties the village confronts in the process of trying to educate themselves and their children. At the end, I attempt to analyze and draw conclusions, but as the topic of education is complex and people have varying and conflicting thoughts about certain aspects, I cannot easily sum up or conclude my research without personal bias. I can only account for my opinions on all of the information that I have gathered. I hope the stories of the people of my village speak to your heart as they have spoken to mine. This is an academic report, but it deals with real people with real stories and real experiences. Education cultivates the mind, and it also cultivates the heart.
CHAPTER ONE
THE FIELDS OF NGAN-HA
"Bellakay!" "Bellakay!" "Sont Bellakay?" "Bellakay!" The voices of the Mboum greeting filled my ears everyday as I walked down the dusty streets of Ngan-ha. A greeting, though, consists of more than words; a wave with both hands, a handshake, and often a subtle bow are necessary. Women always kneel down to greet men. And during the salutation, several questions are asked of each other in a quiet, seemingly respectful manner.
According to legend, the Mboum tribe originated in Yemen and migrated south through Egypt down to what is now the Province of Adamoua in Cameroon. Supposedly, four brothers led the migration, and the fourth brother founded the village of Ngan-ha. Now a village with a population of 1,050 inhabitants, Ngan-ha is cradled in the midst of Mount Ngan-ha in the Vina Department of the Adamoua Province, approximately 70 kilometers from the provincial capital, Nígaoundéré.
Although not far from Nígaoundéré, transportation between the two places occurs only three times each week; a big car leaves Nígaoundéré for Ngan-ha each Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, and a big car leaves Ngan-ha for Nígaoundéré each Thursday, Friday, and Sunday. Oumarou, an inhabitant of Ngan-ha, thinks that the lack of transportation prevents further development of the village. Ngan-ha is a somewhat isolated and tranquil village. Although close to the equator, a mild temperature exists during the dry months of November and December.
The climate allows for the cultivation of corn, cassava, millet, peanuts, yams, beans, and folléré, as well as trees of bananas, oranges, lemons, avocados, and mangos. The land, then, directly affects the nourishment of the village; couscous, whether of corn, cassava, or millet, is the staple of every meal. Almost every inhabitant in Ngan-ha cultivates the land, even those with governmental posts or other jobs. Cultivation is both a method of providing food and a means of earning money.
Other occupations in Ngan-ha include nurses and pharmacists at the hospital, teachers (for both the public schools and for the Koranic School), school directors, veterinarians for cattle, and prostitutes . There are also those who work at the Center for Agriculture, those who work at the few boutiques in the village, those who sell beef, beignets, and bouilli everyday, those who work at the mill to grind corn, cassava, and millet for couscous, those who work at the market every Friday, and those who maintain the Mboum art of making knives, calabashes, and pottery.
The land is used for the pottery and also for the living structures. People live in compounds, groups of houses and rooms enclosed together by a wall or fence. Most houses and rooms in the compounds are constructed out of mud bricks. Some roofs are metal, and others are thatched. Generally, the houses are square and rectangular, and the kitchens are round. Each compound has a well for water, but the village also has a few water pumps for drinking and bathing water. As there is no plumbing or electricity in the village, the inhabitants utilize the trees of the land for firewood, the fuel for cooking and heating. Every morning, a haze covers the village of Ngan-ha, as each household lights a fire to keep warm during the perceptible chill of the dry months of November and December.
Although the land is rich for cultivation and other resources, most inhabitants of Ngan-ha live under a certain level of poverty; that is, what appears to be poverty from my outside perspective. When I was sick and visited the hospital to ask for a specific medicine, Cipro, I was told it was too expensive and people in the village could not afford such a medicine; thus, the hospital does not carry it. My host mother had malaria while I was in Ngan-ha, but she did not go to the hospital. I am guessing her reason is primarily economic. Every morning I went jogging with my host sister who had no tennis shoes, only sandals. Other children in the village attended school without shoes on their feet and wore the same clothes, torn with holes, day after day. My family often ran out of body oil (lotion), sugar, and petroleum, and they presented the lack of money for such items to me as a problem. One fourth of the students at the secondary school have not yet paid their school fees, and they certainly do not have all their books or workbooks.
And yet, despite these inconveniences, the people of Ngan-ha live and utilize their resources. My empty plastic Tangui bottles (a brand of bottled mineral water) were a sought-after, fought-over possession. Empty glass Top bottles (a brand of soft drinks) become rolling pins. Empty containers become chairs. Prayer mats become beds. People live and laugh and joyfully participate in the soccer match held almost every evening at the field by the elementary school. When there is a traditional dance, almost the entire population attends and joyfully joins the dancers in their movements.
The original Mboum were Animists, but now the influence of the Fulani has converted almost the entire population into Muslims. Ngan-ha has three mosques, and the elementary school is used as a facility for the Koranic School. Children attend the Koranic School at six o'clock in the morning, women in the afternoon, and men in the evening. The majority of the village adheres to praying five times a day, and they terminate almost any activity for prayer time. During Ramadan , the entire village wakes up at 3:30 in the morning to the sound of drums in the streets, calling the Muslims to wake up and eat before the sun rises. They fast for the entire day, and in the afternoon, women prepare beignets to sell at the market. After sunset, those adhering to Ramadan cherish beignets and bouilli. Also due to the Fulani influence, most of the inhabitants, though not Fulani, can speak Fulfulde. Some Dourou occupy Ngan-ha as well, so the major languages spoken are Mboum, Fulfulde, some Dourou, some French, those educated in the Koranic School can read and write Arabic, and the children in school are now learning English.
The influence of the Fulani has also extended into the social structure of the village. Prior to the mass Islamic conversion, women were allowed to occupy high positions in the society. Now, the role of women is that of the homemaker. She cooks, she cleans, she stays home to take care of the children, and she is expected to work in the fields with the agriculture. The role of the men is that of the worker and the provider. Thus, the men work in the fields and also hold the professions in the village (except for the prostitutes). Social interaction between men and women is separate. While the men converse outside the homes in the market place, the women stay in their compounds and visit other women in their compounds. Men and women within the same family are not allowed to eat together; the men eat in one location and the women in another. Both polygamy and monogamy exist, and the husband is usually a considerable amount older than the wife. Most girls marry during their teenage years, and as most marriages are arranged by their parents, many have fiancés when they are as young as 12 years old. I wonder about the existence and frequency of inner-marriage, as all of the inhabitants of Ngan-ha are seemingly related to the same family.
As for the political structure, the Chief Belaka, Saliou Saoumboum, who also happens to be the Chief of the entire Department of Vina , is in command of the village along with the notables. The chiefís palace is guarded by an elderly gentleman who sits in front braiding straws for thatched roofs. On the interior live the three wives, the grandmothers, and nine out of the 16 children. Prior to his position as chief, Belaka worked as an elementary school teacher and then as a nurse. He has only been the Chief for three years (reportedly his most difficult job out of the three), and he has already recommenced the cotton crop into the agriculture for the village. According to rumor, he is stricter about education than the past Chief, and he makes sure that every child attends school.
The elementary school was founded in Ngan-ha in 1953. There is no pre-school (Ecole Maternelle) in the village, so when children arrive at elementary school, most of them encounter their first experience with the French language. Most of the older generation (those past 60 years old) has never participated in formal education. Many middle-aged and young parents have not attended school either, or they attended but quit at some point during their elementary school years. The younger generation of adults (20 to 30 years old) have mostly completed elementary school, but few have continued their studies beyond to secondary education. And now, for the first time in the history of Ngan-ha, there is a secondary school, founded on September 11, and classes officially commenced on October 2, 2000.
CHAPTER TWO
THE SEED OF A NEW PLANT: LE COLLÈGE DíENSEIGNEMENT
SECONDAIRE (C.E.S.)
In the Cameroonian education system, the Collège díEnseignement Secondaire, abbreviated as C.E.S., is similar to a middle school in the United States. Students enter the C.E.S. after elementary school and stay for four years. The first year is termed level six, the second year is level five, the third year level four, and the fourth year level three. After the C.E.S., students can continue their studies at a lycée, which is similar to high school in the United States, though students stay there for three years instead of four. The same terminology continues for the years at the lycée; the first year is termed level two, the second year level one, and the last year terminale. Students enter the C.E.S. at the same level academically, as they must pass an exam at the end of elementary school, but their ages vary. In Cameroon, when a student does not perform up to the teacher's and/or national standards, the student repeats the same level the following year; thereby, the ages of the students at the C.E.S. in Ngan-ha vary from 11 to 18.
The actual building for the college is located approximately three kilometers from the village (a 20 to 30 minute walk). Apparently the chief, notables, and government decided upon this location in order to provide a tranquil learning environment without distractions, to provide fields and space for playing, and to encourage the development of the village to grow and reach the C.E.S. on the outskirts. For the current students, this distance means leaving the house at 6:30 or 7:00 in the morning to arrive at school on time.
Ngan-ha has been asking the government for a secondary school for a perceptibly long time; that is, an estimate of two to six years. The village itself built the C.E.S. without the help of the government, using the physical labor and financial means of the inhabitants of Ngan-ha. This process involves burning the fields to uncover earth for bricks, formulating the bricks, and constructing the building. The C.E.S. building is not yet finished, as there is no floor or ceiling. What exists now is a solid brick frame and walls for two classrooms, an office for the director, and an office for the secretary. The village continues to work on the physical construction of the C.E.S. During one school day, the students of the secondary school spent their "learning" time pulling weeds in the interior of the building. The road does not reach the C.E.S. either; there is only a footpath through the fields of tall crops.
After the village began the construction of the C.E.S., the government sent the Director, Houyamné Enok, to commence the secondary school. In many ways, not only in terms of levels of education, Enok is different from the majority of the inhabitants of Ngan-ha. Whereas the village is primarily Muslim, Enok is a Christian. Originally from the Far North, Enok's ethnicity is Moundang, a tribe who used to enslave the Mboum. According to Enok, this historical fact remains only a joke between him and the inhabitants of the village. When he arrived, Enok was greeted with outstretched and open arms. The respect for him continues; besides the standard Cameroonian system of standing when the director or teacher enters the classroom and standing when asking or answering a question, outside of the classroom students carry his bag home, fetch water for him, and shop for him at the local boutique. Ngan-ha is indeed proud to have its first secondary school.
Before the C.E.S. in Ngan-ha, students had to migrate to Nígaoundéré or another village with a C.E.S. if they wished to finish their studies. This situation is costly for living expenses and transportation, especially if students do not have family in other villages or Nígaoundéré with whom they can stay. Thus, secondary education was not accessible to all, so many would stop their studies and work in the fields. Of the 42 students in the C.E.S. this year, most said they would have gone to Nígaoundéré or another village to study if there was not the C.E.S. in Ngan-ha; a few students said they would have stopped their studies to work in the fields. However, some parents, and in particular, the parents of females, say they would have kept their daughters at home if there was not a C.E.S. in Ngan-ha.
Since the building for the C.E.S. is not yet complete, the students use the last classroom in the elementary school. The office for the director of the C.E.S. is the office for the secretary for the elementary school, but as there is no secretary, the space was available. There are 42 students: 10 females and 32 males. The 42 students are divided into two classes of 21 students each, but as there is only one classroom, they now learn together. The only level at the C.E.S. for the first year is the sixth level; next year as the students progress there will be a fifth and sixth level; the following year, fourth, fifth, and sixth levels; and after that, the C.E.S. will be completed with the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth levels. If enough students continue their studies and a sufficient faculty is present, the third level will be followed by the founding of a high school (Lycée). The same gradual progression of levels forms the foundation of a lycée, starting with level two the first year, the second year levels two and one, and the third year levels one, two, and terminale.
Enok arrived September 11, 2000, and classes began the October 2, 2000. This post demands sacrifice on the part of Enok, both personally and professionally. His family continues to live in Nígaoundéré, as his wife works and his children attend school there. Because transportation is inconvenient and the job is demanding, he only goes home to visit every other weekend. Besides being physically separated from his family, he is deprived of a spiritual community; he is a Christian, and there are no churches in Ngan-ha. Moreover, for the first month and a half, Enok was not only the director, but also the only teacher. Specialized in Geography, History, and Civics, Enok was expected to teach all of the subjects, including English, French, Math, Science, and Physical Education. So Enok began his job in Ngan-ha as a director by teaching one subject after another, not necessarily being qualified in each subject. However, he chose to begin teaching the subjects with which he was most comfortable until another teacher arrived. Thereby, for the first month of classes the students did not learn Math, Science, or Physical Education.
Currently, an elementary school teacher, Ousmanou, leads the French instruction at the C.E.S. During the month of November, Enok began jogging everyday to get in shape for teaching Physical Education. The last week of November, he started teaching the Physical Education class. For the past three weeks, Bouba Lucas, a student studying Geology at the University of Nígaoundéré, has come to Ngan-ha to help teach Math and Science. Bouba Lucas is from the same village as Enok, so he is also Moundang, the tribe to whom the Mboum used to be slaves. His salary is paid by the Association of Parents of Students (Association des Parents díElèves, abbreviated as A.P.E.).
The A.P.E. is, in principle, a structure of dialogue between school and family which seeks to help solve problems with the C.E.S. morally, materially, and financially. When I asked the students what they see as the problems confronting the C.E.S., six replied there are no books, five replied there are no uniforms, four replied there is a lack of professors, and many others responded that there is no money for materials and equipment. Without books or other visual materials, a significant element of education, in my opinion, is lost. For example, Ousmanou, the elementary school teacher who teaches French at the C.E.S., was looking at a world map and he asked me where the United States was located. As we looked at the map together, others in the village, even those who had completed some form of secondary education, asked me the same question. Without resources, knowing and understanding such facts remains a challenge for the students at the C.E.S. Uniforms are worn to create a sense of unity amongst various socio-economic groups, as well as help with discipline by keeping track of students who ditch classes. Thus, besides paying for the salary of Bouba Lucas, the A.P.E. has many financial goals. This year, being the first year of the C.E.S., parents are obligated to pay 5,000 CFA for each child in the C.E.S. Other people in the village, not parents of students, claim to voluntarily donate money to the A.P.E. In general, the village claims to support education, as despite the minor perceived inconveniences of education, the majority seemingly view schooling as a positive and necessary aspect of life.
CHAPTER THREE
PERCEPTIONS OF THE GROWTH OF EDUCATION
In general, the older generation in Ngan-ha has never participated in formal education. The two oldest inhabitants of Ngan-ha are two women, Maa Jumba and Maa Ada, who were born, raised, and continue to live in the village. Everyday they can be found sitting outside their house braiding straw for thatched roofs, and, despite their age, they still cultivate in the fields. Their lives have not changed at all with the foundation of the C.E.S. Because the elementary school was founded after they were of the age for attending, neither one has ever been to school. When I asked them about changes they have seen during their lifetime in Ngan-ha, they replied that they are too old to know how the village has changed. For them, the village has not changed at all; they continue to live as they have lived all their lives. Their lives do not integrate or connect with formal education at all.
Mohaman is a 67 year-old man who makes and decorates "traditional" knives in the village. Also born and raised in Ngan-ha, he also was too late for the elementary school founded in 1953. Even more influential than timing, though, was his parentsí decision to hide education from their children. Never having gone to school themselves, they did not view it as necessary, and they thought that education would create a separation between the parents and the children. Since education was hidden from him, he does not feel that he can accurately judge the advantages and disadvantages of school, but in his life experiences, he has been deprived of opportunities due to his lack of education. For example, he herded cattle down to Yaoundé in hopes of crossing the border and bringing the cows to Gabon, but the government refused him because he does not speak French. In Ngan-ha, he sees professionals come to the Center for Agriculture to teach the village how to improve farming methods, but these specialists teach in French; those who do not speak French are denied direct access to the information. The importance of education, then, as Mohaman sees it, is the ability to learn and communicate in French, which then allows for contact with the administration and government, and ultimately job opportunities. He describes the C.E.S. as a "medicine for the village;" Ngan-ha was asleep, and this is "an awakening."
The wife of the Chief prior to the past Chief, Adidjatou, is a 62 year-old woman who has also grown up in Ngan-ha. She, too, was born too early to attend the elementary school, and as her father preferred that she work in the fields, she has never participated in formal education. Now, she utilizes the earth to make pottery; families use the pottery she makes to store their "sacred" water from the pump for drinking. Adidjatou regrets the decision of her father, as she wishes she could speak French. Besides language, she views education as important for finding jobs and earning money. When I asked her what is lost with education, she replied that families used to sit around the fire together and tell stories (oral literature) every night, but now the children have homework and must read, so this tradition has disintegrated.
Hadja Astajam, the wife of the past Chief, has also never attended school; she has continued to cultivate in the fields all her life. She, too, sees education as important for learning language and gaining access to professions. Her daughter, Haoua, attended elementary school in Ngan-ha, though she never continued to secondary education. Like her mother, Haoua works in the fields and as a homemaker. She, too, thinks education is important, but she says the choice to continue is the decision of the husband, not the woman. According to Haoua, she was married at 13 years, but her husband reports her age as being 16 at the time of marriage. Now, Haoua has seven children; one daughter is already married, one son is too young for school, two sons and one daughter are in the elementary school, and, for the first time in the family line, two daughters attend the C.E.S., participating in secondary education.
The husband of Haoua, Dahirou, also attended only elementary school. He owned a boutique but did not have the funds available to continue the shop, so now he just continues to cultivate in the fields. However, during my three weeks in Ngan-ha, he suffered from a sore back and was not able to work often in the fields. He says that education, and in particular, education for his daughters in the C.E.S., is important for "opening their minds" to read, improve food preparation, and learn about health care for their children. The foundation of the C.E.S. in Ngan-ha is positive, in his opinion, because families are not displaced; they can live together while the children attend secondary school. Yet, he also said that if Ngan-ha did not have a C.E.S., his daughters would stay at home. And, rumor has it that if the chief was not so persistent about the education of every child in the village, the daughters would stay at home anyway.
Chief Belaka, having grown up in Ngan-ha but having lived in Meiganga, Guider, Garoua, and Nígaoundéré working as an elementary school teacher and nurse, thinks education is extremely important. For him, education teaches languages necessary for communication, raises the standard of living and the level for the family, encourages development of commerce and agriculture; in short, it is the "evolution of life." The only inconvenience he sees with education is the situation created when children leave Ngan-ha and forget their village. Of his 16 children, 11 are in school, and three are too small to attend school. Of the 11 in school, two study at the University of Nígaoundéré: his daughter studies Law and his son studies History. Another daughter is furthering her education at an institute which specializes in domestic training. Three children, all girls, attend secondary school, two in Nígaoundéré in the fifth level of the C.E.S. (a level which does not yet exist in Ngan-ha) and one in the sixth level of the C.E.S. in Ngan-ha. The chief is content with the C.E.S. and wants it to grow and develop into a lycée.
Haoua, the first wife of the chief, is 46 years old, has 10 children, and works as a farmer and homemaker. Of the four children in her family, she was the only one to attend elementary school, the reason being that she was the only one who wanted to go to school. Her father passed away while she was still young, so her uncle brought her to school. At the age of 15, she finished elementary school and married Belaka. For her, the importance of education is continuing oneís studies to become a civil servant, or government worker, to help the village. With the creation of the C.E.S., one of her daughters is staying with her in Ngan-ha rather than migrating to Nígaoundéré for school.
Fadimatou, the second wife of the chief, is 29 years old, has six children, and also works as a cultivator and homemaker. She grew up in Nígaoundéré but never went to school as it was against her fatherís wishes. Instead, she helped her mother make and sell beignets in the market. At 14, she was married to Belaka. For Fadimatou, the importance of education is her wish for her children to continue their studies to become civil servants to help their parents. Her oldest daughter is currently in the fifth level at the C.E.S. in Nígaoundéré, but, with the foundation of the C.E.S. in the village, her next children to finish elementary school and advance to secondary education will be able to stay in Ngan-ha and study.
Asta Djumba, the third wife of the chief, is 37, works as a cultivator and homemaker, and has one son from a previous marriage. Like Fadimatou, she never attended school; only one child in her family attended school, and to her regrets, this sibling was not her. At the age of 24, she was married and had a son, who is now 16 years old and studies at the technical high school (Lycée Technique) in Nígaoundéré. Her first husband (with whom she conceived her son) passed away; she has been married to Chief Belaka for one and a half years. Education, in her opinion, is important for work, and in particular, important for females so they are not dependent on their husbands.
Djoda Delfou is a husband, a father, an elementary school teacher, and the secretary for the A.P.E. (Association des Parents díElèves or Association of Parents of Students) of the C.E.S. He grew up in another village which did not have an elementary school, so he walked five kilometers to another village to go to school. Although he stopped his studies after elementary school and never advanced to secondary school or the school for teacher training (LíEcole Normale Supérieure), the government recruited him and someone taught him how to teach in a matter of three months. Thus, though he skipped several steps in the certifying process, his salary is paid by the government, not the A.P.E. Ngan-ha is the sixth village in which he has taught. In his four years in Ngan-ha, he has witnessed changes in the populationís attitudes towards education. When he first arrived, he noticed a stark contrast from his previous post where parents pushed education; in Ngan-ha, he did not see this same push. However, with the creation of the C.E.S., the inhabitants of Ngan-ha feel a sense of pride and, in his opinion, are beginning to understand the importance of education and thus encourage their children to continue their studies. Djoda has too many children to keep track of, but I gathered that he has four daughters already married, three of which stopped during elementary school and one who went on to a C.E.S. Currently in school is a son in the sixth level at the C.E.S. and three children at the elementary school. His wife, Abebou, and him desire for their children to continue their studies.
Adamou, a 42 year-old cultivator with two wives and four children, stopped his formal studies after the first level of the Lycée. Although Muslim, he participated in a missionary project where he learned different methods of cultivation. The Catholic missionaries took him traveling through other countries in Africa while teaching methods to improve agriculture. For him, he says this experience really opened his eyes and now he understands the importance of education. His three children who are old enough to go to school attend an elementary school, and he says they, including his oldest daughter, will continue their studies at a C.E.S.
As for the younger generations, there is a significant portion of single males between the ages of 20 and 30 in Ngan-ha. The thoughts of Daouda, a 25 year-old single male who cultivates and makes homes, represents the major sentiments of this younger, unmarried, male generation. He stopped his studies after elementary school. Although he did not understand the value of education at the time, he now regrets abandoning school as he says that "education is in his heart." He thinks that education is important for learning languages to communicate, and from my observations, he is extremely curious about the world, asking many questions and trying to learn whatever information he can obtain.
Oumarou, a male in his mid-20s, works as a cultivator and brick-maker, and, like Daouda, stopped his studies after elementary school. He made the comment that, had he continued his studies, he would not be working in the fields now. Expressing pride for his village, he claims to have helped with the construction of the C.E.S., as well as give a voluntary donation to the A.P.E. However, others in the village are skeptical about the existence of voluntary donations towards education, as perhaps it is not viewed as a priority. Oumarou also commented on, and reaffirmed other rumors, about the differences between the past chief and the current chief. Whereas the past chief had never gone to school, the current chief is educated and has worked as a civil servant. Thereby, according to Oumarou and various others in the village, the current leadership of Ngan-ha pushes education for the children in the village.
Danwé, a 25 year-old male, finished C.E.S. but did not continue his studies to the Lycée level. Now, he works as a civil servant, teaching people how to cultivate cotton. He regrets not continuing his education; like most males in his generation who discontinued their education, he says he was blinded at the time to the value of education. Now, he thinks that education is important everywhere for everyone. According to Danwé, "líeducation cultive la tête;" that is, education cultivates the mind. However, he made the comment that the reason education works in some villages and not in others is due to the existence or lack of civil servants, or people who work for the government. That is, in a village without civil servants the inhabitants do not see the benefits of education or the resultant job opportunities. Ngan-ha does have civil servants, as in the Center for Agriculture and the hospital, so education in this village, according to Danwé, should theoretically work.
As for the views of the actual students in the sixth level at the C.E.S., they also view education as a means to job opportunities. They all have dreams about their future professions. When given a survey asking them their views about education, they responded to the question "What do you want to become when you grow up?" as follows. 12 want to be doctors, four want to be secondary school teachers, three police officers, three veterinarians, two pilots, two want to serve in the military, two journalists, two agronomes, two elementary school teachers, and two nurses. Other wishes included working in administration, becoming a sous-prefet, cultivator, driver, and magician. The dreams of the females were not different from the dreams of the males.
Hadimatou, the daughter of Haoua and Dahirou, is a 15 year-old female in the sixth level at the C.E.S. who wants to continue her studies to the university level to become a teacher of secondary education. She wishes to learn English, leave Ngan-ha and travel, and according to rumor, she does not want to get married. From my observations, she is a serious student as I see her studying every single night by the petroleum lamp. She seems so curious about learning. Her grades, however, do not reflect this level of studiousness. As for her life outside of school, she works at home, cleaning the floors every morning and preparing couscous every night, in addition to other household chores.
The sister of Hadimatou, Maryiamou, is 12 years old and also in the sixth level at the C.E.S.: the first generation in their family line to attend secondary education. Like Hadimatou, she participates in housework everyday. But unlike her sister, rumor has it that Maryiamou wants to get married, and, from my observations, she does not appear to have the same thirst for education as Hadimatou, as she studies less often and does not express the same curiosity. She wants to become an elementary school teacher, and if her husband prevents her from continuing her studies for this goal, she wishes to become a tailor.
Aissatou, the chief's 14 year-old daughter in the sixth level at the C.E.S. in Ngan-ha, is described by her male classmates as the most serious female student. She says she wants to continue her studies to the university level. Along with a few other students, she does not view the lack of resources and books at the C.E.S. as a problem, because the students collaborate with one another and share books. All three girls seem content with the school and say that Enok and Bouba Lucas explain their lessons well.
The son of Djoda, Abboubakar, represents a male perspective. A 15 year-old student at the C.E.S., Abboubakar wants to become an agronome. He says he is content with the C.E.S., because it is "real" learning, as opposed to the games and sports played at elementary school. There is homework now, and learning is more serious.
Mohamadou, a 14 year-old male student, is the "Chief" of the class; that is, he was elected President of the class. The Chief and his classmates told me this was because he was the most intelligent student in the class, but Enok denied the validity of this statement. He says the role of the Chief is to maintain discipline in the class when the teacher is not present. Mohamadou's dream is to continue his studies to the university level to become a military nurse. Education, in his opinion, is important to gain knowledge and surpass others.
Idresso, a 13 year-old male student at the C.E.S., agrees with Mohamadou that education is important for gaining knowledge and surpassing others. He wants to become a journalist. All three male students reported that they study every night in groups of three for one hour. These study groups consist of only males, as girls are prohibited by their parents from participating in groups with the opposite sex. I did witness the girls studying together once in a completely female group the night before exams. However, Enok thinks these "study" groups are really excuses for social interaction, because the work in the sixth level at the C.E.S. involves more base vocabulary than discussions.
Talking with the female and male students at the C.E.S. revealed some of their thoughts on gender differences. The boys said that the girls are not serious students. Mohamadou commented that the femaleís role is in the house and the maleís role is to earn money. Abboubakar then elaborated that the reason girls should attend school is to learn to read and write, because perhaps they will receive or want to send a letter.
In a survey asking the students the importance of education for males and females, the following responses were given by both female and male students at the C.E.S. For males, five students reported that education is important to find work, three specifically mentioned for becoming a civil servant, two for dignity and respect, two for taking care of the family, and two for cultivation. Other responses included for becoming an administration worker, learning to fish, managing and earning money, defending the country, and working for the nation. Two reported that the importance of education for males is to continue their education and become something; other responses included for earning a diploma and for leaving Ngan-ha. Three described the importance as knowing how to live in society, and one said for learning with friends. For females, three reported that education is important to find work, two for becoming elementary school teachers, one for helping parents, and one for becoming a civil servant. Continuing their education was also mentioned, along with earning a diploma, becoming something, and having wisdom and advice. Four said education is important for females to learn domestic work, nine for improving food preparation, and one for grinding couscous. Two thought education was important for marriage, two for living with spouses, and others said for helping men, respecting their husbands, fidelity, and living better with their families. Other responses included for learning about health, learning and understanding French, and for the experience.
Manasta Kída, the director of the elementary school, pointed out that Adamoua is the last province to scholarize. Enok, the director of the C.E.S., confirmed this statement. In terms of gender, Enok reported that the grades of the female students are significantly lower than those of the males. Bouba Lucas, the teacher paid by the A.P.E., finds this true with the subjects he teaches as well. He accounts for the difference by saying the girls are responsible for household duties at home; perhaps the males have more time to study. Yet, as Enok pointed out, the males have time to play football and socialize in the market every night. Gender differences are complex, as they are tangled with traditional cultural and religious beliefs. For the most part, the inhabitants of Ngan-ha think that education is important, but there seem to be many roots of other ideas and situations that entangle the roots of education, thus stifling its growth.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE ROOTS OF OTHER PLANTS THAT ENTANGLE THE GROWTH OF
EDUCATION
When I asked people who attended school why they stopped their education, the most common response was the lack of moyen, or financial means. Mohaman, the elderly knife-maker who vocalized feeling strongly that education is important, sent his children to school but at a certain point he could not afford to pay for continuing their education. Adidjatou, the elderly pottery-maker, sent all three of her children to elementary school, but her two girls stopped afterwards due to financial reasons. Only her son continued his schooling, as money was too scarce to pay for all three. In principle, elementary school is free, but children need to buy supplies such as workbooks, books, and pens. Secondary school, though, is not free. Location, then, is not the only determining factor in advancing or abandoning education. For financial reasons, many people within Ngan-ha attend elementary school but can not afford to continue on to secondary education.
Awalou, a 23 year-old male in the village, experienced the misfortune of his father passing away in 1993. Besides the emotional tragedy of this event, he was left with no means to continue the secondary education that he had begun. Moreover, in Cameroonian culture, the oldest offspring, and in particular, the oldest male, is left with the responsibility to help the other children financially. As the oldest child in his family, Awalou was left with the responsibility to help provide for his younger siblings. Awalou is, in my opinion, an intelligent young man with academic potential, and he vocalizes wanting to continue his education, but financially and culturally, he has no choice in the matter.
Awalouís story is similar to almost every other young, single male in the village. They wanted to continue their education, but there was no financial means. And, before the C.E.S., the cost of secondary education included the price of transportation to another village or Nígaoundéré, in addition to food and lodging. Besides not seeing the importance of education at the time, Daouda, the 25 year-old cultivator and house-builder, did not have the funds to pursue his education after elementary school. Alhadje, a 28 year-old male who works with cotton, teaching others how to cultivate this crop, finished C.E.S. but could not financially afford to continue to the Lycée level. Moussa, a 32 year-old cook at the elementary school who prepares rice everyday for the students, abandoned his education during the third level at C.E.S. He had been working to pay his own school fees, but eventually he gave up.
The financial means for school is a constant and very real fear for both parents and students, and yet at the same time, not having the money does not appear, to me anyway, to be a major catastrophe. Younoussa, a 36 year-old Muslim father of a baby girl, said that he would like her to go to school if God provides the money. In several studentsí surveys, they reported wanting to continue their studies if there is the means, and even more specifically, if God provides the means. Of the 42 students at the C.E.S., only three are Christian; 39 are Muslim. Currently, approximately one fourth of the 42 students at the C.E.S. has not yet paid their school fees. Dahirou, the father of Hadimatou and Maryiamou, has these two daughters in the C.E.S., and he has not yet paid for their schooling. The fees were due during my time in Ngan-ha, but I did not notice Dahirou stressing out or working particularly extra hard to come up with the money. He did have a sore back that prevented him from working in the fields, but, in my opinion, it might be possible, given the history of peopleís educational levels and the lack of means to pay for education, that not having the financial means is accepted as a normal part of life in Ngan-ha and incentive to work harder for it may not exist.
School fees for one year at the C.E.S. in Ngan-ha are 7,500 CFA per student. In addition, parents must pay the A.P.E. (Association des Parents díElèves or Association of Parents of Students) 5,000 CFA. Thereby, each student at the C.E.S., at least for this year, costs the parents 12,500 CFA. Since most inhabitants in Ngan-ha cultivate, let us examine the salary of an average cultivator. According to Oumarou, the young male cultivator and brick-maker, one can sell a sack of corn for 10,000 CFA. If one is lucky and works very hard, one can cultivate enough corn for 60 sacks, but the number can be as low as ten. Harvesting season occurs twice a year, so in a period of six months, a cultivator can earn as much as 600,000 CFA or as little as 100,000 CFA. In each month, then, one can earn approximately as much as 100,000 CFA or as little as 18,000 CFA. Chief Belaka says his job as Chief is more difficult than his previous occupations, because he finds it difficult to lead the mentality of the young people. In his opinion, the younger generation in the village is lazy with cultivation, and they do not listen to his advice. Cultivation, though, is also highly dependent on climate factors completely out of the control of the cultivator.
As a comparison to the cultivatorís salary, Enok, the director of the C.E.S., earns 190,000 CFA each month. Yet at the same time, he sends his children to private schools which cost 60,000 CFA per student per year. The problem of financial means becomes increasingly more complex as peopleís priorities differ. Enok said that parents, in general, view education as important for their children, but they are not ready to sacrifice all for their schooling. And in Cameroon, according to Enok, parents must sacrifice all for the education of their children. Enok is coming from a family where his father did sacrifice his all for Enokís education, so he understands the sacrifice and the benefits of the sacrifice. Djoda, the elementary school teacher, earns 80,000 CFA each month. According to him, people in Ngan-ha have the means to pay for their childrenís education, but they do not prioritize their money for this expense. The reason, as Djoda sees it, why parents do not prioritize the expense of education is that they themselves did not go to school, so although they vaguely see education as important, they do not concretely grasp the concept of education.
Some people in the village do not have birth certificates, perhaps because their parents do not view such a piece of paper as important. Oumarou, the cultivator who informed me about the cultivatorís salary, abandoned his formal education after elementary school, because his parents did not have a birth certificate for him. A birth certificate is necessary to attend school and also to obtain an identity card, which is necessary to travel. Thereby, even if he tried to continue his education, he could not have traveled safely to another village or Nígaoundéré to attend secondary school.
While the lack of financial means, birth certificates, or parentsí understanding stifles educational opportunities equally for both genders, females face another obstacle: marriage. At the C.E.S., at least five of the ten girl students already has a fiancé. Only three reported having a fiancé, but having talked to two others, as well as their parents and fiancés, I know that they are engaged. The fact that they do not admit to having fiancés on a survey leads me to believe that others also wrote misleading or false information.
Hadimatou, the 15 year-old student who dreams of becoming a secondary level teacher, says that one reason she became so interested in education was her friend, Fadimatou. Engaged with a fiancé, Fadimatou is between 14 and 15 years old. According to Hadimatou, she will marry within the next year. And, when she marries, she will discontinue her education. Hadimatou seemingly took a feminist stance on this situation, saying that she does not want to follow her friendís example and stop her studies after marriage. But Haoua, the wife of Dahirou, pointed out that when a girl marries she is under the leadership of her husband; it is up to him whether or not she continues her education. She has no choice in the matter.
Moreover, marriages are arranged by the parents and the males. For some, this arrangement allows the girl the freedom to accept or reject the offer, but for others, she has no choice. For Hadimatou, who, according to rumor, does not want to get married, her parents do not offer her a choice in the matter. She cannot refuse. At 15 years old, she, like her friend Fadimatou, already has a fiancé. In her survey, she reported not having a fiancé, but her mother, Haoua, introduced me to him. In conversations I had with Hadimatou, she admitted having a fiancé, though she denies knowing him. Haoua, her mother, voices the contrary, that she knows him very well. A 27 year-old single cultivator, Abboubakar is his name. He told me he plans to marry Hadimatou in February of 2001; that is, in less than three months, Hadimatou will be married. Haoua said this date is not yet officially arranged, but the date of marriage is the decision of the male. I asked Abboubakar if Hadimatou would be able to continue her studies after marriage, and he said only for the current year but not after. He could not quite articulate his reasons for this decision, but I gathered it is a combination of a lack of financial means and a fear of losing the respect of the woman. Abboubakar only finished elementary school, probably due to a lack of financial means; how could one possibly expect him to support his wife in continuing her education when he did not, or could not, continue his own?
The sister of Hadimatou, Maryiamou, 12 years old, also has a fiancé. Although rumor has it that, unlike her sister, Maryiamou wants to get married, she also denied being engaged on her survey. In conversations with me, however, she admitted having a fiancé but not knowing him. However, she was in the same room with me when I was introduced to Nourou, her fiancé. A 32 year-old mill worker who grinds corn, cassava, and millet for couscous, Nourou already has a wife and two children; Maryiamou will become the second wife. A date is not yet set for their marriage. Like Hadimatou's fiancé, Nourou abandoned his own education after elementary school, and when he marries Maryiamou, he will permit her to continue her education for that year, but not beyond. He says that if the female goes to school, she will meet other men: her teachers, professors, and classmates. Perhaps some form of adultery will occur, or, as these other men will be more formally educated than Nourou, and perhaps she will lose respect for her husband. If she continues to the university level, she will not even live within the same village, which increases these fears. For Nourou, the wife's respect for her husband is extremely important, and if she is more educated than he, he risks losing this respect.
In Ngan-ha, men and women are not treated or thought of as equal. Women marry at a much earlier age than men; the reason several inhabitants of the village gave me to account for the age gap between the genders is that women age faster. That is, at 15, women are thought to be physically ready to have children. Men, however, occupy the role of provider for their families, so they need to establish a somewhat stable profession and income before marriage. The majority of the young, single males between the ages of 20 and 30 in Ngan-ha have abandoned their education after elementary school.
This portion of the population are now the candidates for marrying the female students at the C.E.S., and if they hold similar views to those of Abboubakar and Nourou, the fiancés of Hadimatou and Maryiamou, girls will not have the opportunity to continue their schooling. Besides the physical differences between the genders, men and women, according to the students at the C.E.S., are not intellectually equal. In the survey I gave the students at the C.E.S., not one student reported that men and women are equal. 25 thought that men are more intelligent, and nine wrote that woman are more intelligent. Even Hadimatou, who strongly vocalized her wishes to continue her studies and not get married, wrote that the most intelligent are the men, but some women are intelligent also.
One reason for this perceived inequality is the Muslim religion. Adamou, the 42 year-old cultivator who traveled through Africa with a missionary project learning improved agricultural methods, pointed out that the Muslim religion stifles development. In terms of education and gender relations, men traditionally have more power than women. The Muslim holy book, The Koran, states that men can have up to four wives, thus permitting polygamy. So as not to tempt men, women are instructed to cover themselves in public; this idea in the Koran has led society to keep women in the house, thus perpetuating the perception that the home is the womanís place. Adamou, a Muslim himself, said that the Islamic religion keeps women down in society, and, from his experience with the Catholic missionaries, thinks that the Christian religion promotes development.
Enok, the Director of the C.E.S., is a Christian, and he married his wife when she was 26 and he was 32. He sends his children, including his daughter when she is old enough to go to school, to private schools. Enok says that his father became a Christian at a very early age, around 20 years old, and this "opened his eyes" to a variety of new perspectives, but in particular, he realized the importance of education for his children. Bouba Lucas, the teacher at the C.E.S. paid by the A.P.E., is also a Christian. Manasta Kída, the director of the elementary school, was a Christian, but when he was posted in a primarily Muslim village, he converted to Islam. I gathered that he finds it easier to integrate with a village if he holds the same religious beliefs. So, the more formally educated people in the village have Christian backgrounds.
Religion, though, is only one aspect of the entangling roots. Chief Belaka, for example, is Muslim, and none of his daughters have fiancés, including his 28 year-old daughter who is studying at the University of Nígaoundéré and Aissatou who is studying at the C.E.S. in Ngan-ha. Both the chief and his first wife, Haoua, expressed their distaste for arranged marriages. Haoua says if parents force marriage, it does not work. All three of the chief's wives supposedly had the opportunity to refuse or accept his hand in marriage. Enok blames not only the Islamic religion, but also the fathers who arrange marriages for their daughters before they are given a chance to grow up, learn, and development on their own. Most of the inhabitants of Ngan-ha have never in their lives left the Adamoua Province, so they do not know any different social patterns and constructions of marriage. The traditions here, and by traditions I refer to the way in which people are accustomed to living and conducting their lives, are deeply rooted in the soil of Ngan-ha. Whether originally for economic, religious or cultural reasons, their customs and ways of life, particularly in regard to marriage, perpetuate the entanglement of education, stifling the educational growth of the female population.
CONCLUSION
During my three short weeks in Ngan-ha, I learned that in a village "untouched" by secondary education, the creation of a C.E.S. is extremely complex. Each inhabitant has a story to share from his/her life experiences, and each person has dreams, aspirations, regrets, and personal conflicts regarding education. The village wants this C.E.S. desperately; they asked the government, and to prove to the government that they were serious, they constructed the bricks and built the school itself with their own physical labor. Ngan-ha expresses pride in their school, and everyone that I spoke to at least vaguely grasps the importance of education. However, certain roots entangle the growth process.
The government does not provide an adequate number of faculty members to start a C.E.S. There is a shortage of teachers, which I do not understand as there are so many unemployed Cameroonians searching for jobs. Even those who graduate from universities cannot find work immediately. Besides a deficiency of faculty, the C.E.S., in my opinion, lacks adequate materials. For a class of 42 students, two to three books provided by the director during class time does not suffice. Studentsí grades are low, and I think this reflects their learning environment, their lack of adequate materials and resources.
Simultaneously, though, if students were one hundred percent enthusiastic about learning and they were morally supported by their parents, I do not think that the lack of resources would be an insurmountable setback. Although students enjoy learning and they vaguely grasp the importance, almost none of their parents, except the Chief, have continued their education past elementary school. Most of them do not have role models in their families to whom they can look for inspiration. Moreover, their parents only possess a vague and dreamy idea of education, not a concrete grasp of the actual work and benefits of school. Education in Ngan-ha, as I see it, is a dream but not yet a reality.
Since the results of education are not instantaneous, I think the inhabitants are more preoccupied with daily life. They must eat everyday, and eating involves time for cultivating, grinding, and cooking; when these tasks are designated to students, time is taken away from their studies. Also, money for nourishment takes precedence over money for school fees. When finances are scarce, education, for some, becomes a last priority. Daily life also involves habits and customs that do not readily change. Girls get married young, and their husbands possess power over them; that is just the way it always has been, and in the minds of some, the way it always will be. Religion can be blamed, culture can be blamed, tradition, the economy, almost any aspect of the life in Ngan-ha; but really, I think it is a combination of all of the above. Change takes time, especially for a village where the majority of the inhabitants have never left the Adamoua Province and have not seen or experienced any other way of life.
The seed of the C.E.S. is planted in the fields of Ngan-ha. Some of the soil is fertile and ready for the seed, such as the Chief and his family. Others water the seed, such as Enok and Bouba Lucas and all the others in the village who help construct the building, donate their money, and try to inspire the students. But roots from other plants, those plants that have lived in the fields for a very long time, remain firmly rooted and complicate and stifle the growth of the C.E.S. So, is this seed of formal secondary classroom education necessary or beneficial in the small village of a previously colonized, non-western country?
My answer is yes. If Ngan-ha in Adamoua, Cameroon was a completely "untouched" village, that would necessitate a different answer, but Ngan-ha is not totally isolated. They use paper and coin currency. They are unified and connected to the governmental and outside world through the medium of the French language. They have radios; they listen to the news. If they had no contact with the western world, perhaps they would never think of themselves as poor. Maybe contact with outsiders such as myself brings a painful comparison that would be better left alone. But at the same time, the world is a global village; this movement can not be stopped. It is too late. And personally, I enjoy having human contact and relations with those in different cultures than my own; I think we were naturally born to socialize and learn from one another. I certainly learned from the inhabitants of Ngan-ha.
Secondary education in the tiny village of Ngan-ha is appropriate, necessary, and beneficial. Some students may continue their studies and become civil servants or doctors. Some may cultivate, but they will know French to learn from teachers at the Center for Agriculture, and they will know a different way to think and approach problems they encounter with their crops. Others may understand more about health care and nutrition to take care of their children. There may be some women who are forced to abandon their studies, but perhaps they will encourage their daughters to advance further educationally than themselves. In order to live in today's world, which is no longer a string of isolated villages but rather one big village, education is, in my opinion, essential. It is the crop that can cultivate the mind, the heart, and sustain the human race.
NOTE ON METHODOLOGY
Most of my research was conducted through informal conversations with the people of Ngan-ha. I tried to integrate into their lives and learn through participant observation what role education plays in their daily lives. I also conducted several more formal interviews so as to gather specific information about their life histories, and I conducted a survey at the C.E.S. (secondary school), gathering the information and thoughts of 40 students in the sixth level. My questions were focused on learning what the students and the villagers think about the importance of education, as well as the obstacles they see that limit access to education.
Since French is my second language and usually either
the second, third, or fourth language of the inhabitants of Ngan-ha, I
worked though several translations and language barriers. Some interviews
and conversations were conducted in French, and others required a translator.
Some important concepts, ideas, or specific details were probably lost
in the translation process, and since my French is not fluent, it is possible
I could have misunderstood someone during a conversation or an interview.
Moreover, I am writing this report in English, translating the information
I collected yet once again. I do apologize profusely if I misrepresent
anyone in Ngan-ha; the following report is my best attempt to represent
you and your ideas as accurately as I can.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Background information in Dschang:
Mr. Kaffo, leader of the Syndicat des Enseignements (Teacher's Union); lectured on the subject of the Francophone education system in Cameroon.
Background information in Yaoundé:
Dr. Kinny at the Afemi Museum, telephone number (237)
31-54-16. Wrote a manuscript on the subject of the Mboum people.
Ministry of Education, B.P. 1600 Yaoundé:
Alfred Bone, Block A, Floor 7
Dominic Dang, Block A, Floor 7
Richard Lekunzie, Block C, Floor 6, telephone (237) 23-28-36
Sources in Ngan-ha:
Saliou Saoumboum, Paramount Chief of Ngan-ha (Chief Belaka),
B.P. 188 Nígaoundéré, lives at the Chief's Palace in Ngan-ha.
Chief Belaka, Saliou Saoumboum, is the Paramount Chief
of Ngan-ha. He speaks perfect French, is very open to visitors and
students and willing to talk and be interviewed, and he even connected
me with my host family. His daughter, Rougayatou, is a Law student
at the University of Nígaoundéré who actually accompanied
me to the village.
Haoua, Chief's first wife
Fadimatou, Chief's second wife
Asta Djumba, Chief's third wife
Chief's children:
Rougayatou, Law student at the University of Nígaoundéré
Aissatou, student at C.E.S.
Idresso
Le College díEnseignement Secondaire (C.E.S.) of Ngan-ha:
Houyamné Enok, Director of the C.E.S. in Ngan-ha,
s/c Tiyayon Ignace Censeur au Lycée Classique et Moderne de Nígaoundéré
B.P. 46.
Houyamné Enok is the Director of the C.E.S. in
Ngan-ha. WONDERFUL contact: speaks French and English and is very
organized, energetic, enthusiastic, and willing to help. He served
the role of not only my contact, but also my French professor, advisor,
pastor, brother, and friend.
Bouba Lucas, Geology student at University of Nígaoundéré
and part-time teacher at the C.E.S.
Abboubakar, Mohamadou, Idresso, and all of the other
42 students in the sixth level of the C.E.S., November 2000.
Hamidama Belaka, President of the A.P.E. (Association
des Parents des Élèves), nurse at the hospital in Ngan-ha.
LíEcole Primaire of Ngan-ha:
Manasta Kída, Director
Djoda Delfou, Teacher
Ousmanou, Teacher
My host family:
Dahirou, father
Haoua, mother
Hadimatou, sister
Maryiamou, sister
My host family was INCREDIBLE. Father Dahirou,
Mother Haoua, and six children: Hadimatou, Maryiamou, Abdoulaye, Nana,
Fadimatou, and Saïdou. Except for the two youngest children,
the family speaks French. They extended a very warm and comforting
hospitality to me, even helping me organize and host a traditional dance
at their home! Haoua, in particular, introduced me to many people
in the village.
Awalou, my translator from Mboum into French and from French into Mboum:
My translator, formally called Souhaibou Oumarou, is know by the village as Awalou. He is very reliable, speaks fluent French and Mboum among other languages, and knows everyone in the village. Not only did he translate for me, but he also introduced me to people in the village who helped me with my research. Honest, caring, and easy to open up to, I consider Awalou a dear friend.
Maa Jumba
Maa Ada
Mohaman
Adidjatou
Hadja Astajam
Adamou
Younoussa
Oumarou
Daouda
Alhadje
Danwé
Moussa
Abboubakar
Nourou
THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!! MERCI BEAUCOUP!!! USEKO!!!
SOKO!!!
.¨