Coffee, Mud and Patois

Local indigenous languages, also called Patois, are one of the most defining characteristics of life in Cameroon. The reality they define is at once fascinating and frustrating, and stretches the traditional idea of communication and language to its limits. This might sound a little dramatic, and maybe it is, but this is most definitely not your typical foreign language experience. Most academics agree that the highlands of Cameroon and Nigeria are the birthplace of the Bantu language group, a language group that stretches all over sub-Saharan Africa. One of their most telling pieces of evidence is the current language situation. Cameroon's West and Northwest Provinces alone are home to close to one hundred different languages. That many different languages in an area maybe the size of Delaware.

Rich volcanic soils led to successful agriculture, which led to civilization and a language was born. At a time when 20 km distance between two places was true isolation, the migration of people, the exploration and inhabitation of new lands, the creation of new villages, new Kingdoms, led to variations on the original language, variations that existed in relative isolation and eventually became distinct. And the end result is a region where one language is spoken in a circle with little more than a 15 - 20 kilometer radius. During my years in Peace Corps, the local language, called Ndat Ndat, was spoken in 4 neighboring villages, and each village still had slight variations on that original, itself a variation of another, and so on and so on. My current situation is no different. Certain patois have enough similarities that communication is still possible between the two, but important parts of the message are inevitably lost. Its comparable to a Spanish-speaker and a Portuguese-speaker trying to have a conversation. They'll get the greater movements but subtleties fall flat.

So for a foreigner, learning patois can be frustrating. The tonal nature of all Bantu languages makes them quite difficult, but not impossible, to grasp. Most people learn enough of their village's language for day to day life. How are you, good day, I'm going somewhere, I've been somewhere, I need something, How much does it cost, etc. But once you've spent so much time and energy learning the language, its useful in only a very limited area.

That being said, you've got to have some patois if you're working in rural zones. The single easiest way to gain people's respect and trust is to speak to them in their language. The fact that you've taken the time to learn even a few words wins huge points and gives everyone, especially the elderly, endless entertainment. And a few gifted and incredibly motivated foreigners finish their time here with an impressively functional grasp of the language.

Meetings in rural zones are almost always in patois, and last week, as I canvased the village of Batoufam to organize a larger meeting of coffee growers, it was no different. To reach an entire village population, especially one as disparate as Batoufam, the only sane thing to do is show up to previously organized neighborhood meetings, usually held once every week or two, and profit from their already existing organization. And that, with much help from my colleague Guy, is what I did. Sunday afternoon was the day for the meetings, where neighborhood issues of any kind are discussed. With Guy as my guide, we spent about four hours walking around to different gatherings and announcing the upcoming coffee meeting.

And, without fail, it poured rain. I was soaked after an hour, my pants covered in mud after two. The people, who've been living with this seasonal rain their entire lives, understood my less than presentable appearance and were nice enough to offer me drinks and food and laugh hysterically at my pitiful patois. And the reaction to the coffee meeting was overwhelming. At each and every meeting, after I spoke in French and Guy followed up in Patois, someone asked for a few minutes, stood and thanked me for coming to think of the coffee growers.

Its obvious that for far too long they've been neglected, the only times attention shown being with the intention of exploitation. At each meeting, I was recounted almost exactly the same list of complaints, and at each meeting, I was given the same assurance that they still love growing coffee and that they want nothing more than to again succeed in that endeavor. Their continued devotion and interest in coffee, after so many disappointments, is surely proof of a motivated and invested community. Its unbelievably encouraging for me.

So the meeting is Thursday at noon. Thursday in Batoufam is the traditional day of rest, when work in the farm is forbidden, so its a perfect day for meethings (this needs further explanation: their traditional week is 8 days long, so next week the day of rest will be Friday, then Saturday, etc. etc.). At the meeting, I'll be getting a list of all the farmers, their neighborhoods and their current coffee production and I'll give an introductory presentation on fairtrade, organic farming practices and modern coffee washing techniques. There will be time for question and answer and we'll set a date for the next meeting. Thats progress.