The Old and the New

Isn't it always the case? This dichotomy, at once age old and eternally new, presents itself in nearly everything, and the coffee farming of Cameroon is no exception.

As of my last post, I was getting the coffee farmers of Batoufam together for a general meeting, to gather information on them and their annual production, and to discuss both the project itself and their expectations/hopes/apprehensions of it. I had my own apprehensions and my gut didn't fail me. In the end it was an enormous success, but their were certainly bumps along the way.

The meeting was very well attended. We had over 30 coffee farmers present, mostly men - though there were some women present - and representing a wide spectrum of age groups - from early 20's right on up to late 60's early 70's. Grandparents to grandchildren; it was a multi-generational affair.

And from the very beginning there was conflict. We'd previously decided to hold the meeting in an available classroom at the local elementary school, and as soon as the hour arrived (I should note here that the decided upon hour almost never holds true. Cameroonians themselves call it "l'heure Africaine" - an accurate translation would read "African time." Essentially, it means that you should add anywhere between one and three hours to any scheduled time. Things come up, people forget, nothing is easy. Its an exercise in patience and a lesson I learned quite well in my time here with Peace Corps.) the younger farmers started heading out towards the school, but the older ones stayed put. I encouraged them to head that way, and they kindly informed me that it was too hot and too far and that we might as well just have the meeting right there in town center. They'd find a quiet spot in the shade and we could just meet outside. The younger farmers objected. They argued that it wouldn't be clean and that the passing cars, motorcycles, children, goats, chickens, etc., etc. would be too distracting. But the old guard staunchly held its ground, citing their obvious age and with it their superior wisdom and experience, and we eventually convinced the young to accept the revision. Obstacle one overcome. And we breathed a sigh of relief.

The meeting started with a welcome and an introduction. Once again I wowed the attendees with greetings and exclamations in patois. "Good day and welcome. Thank you for coming." "Watso-u. Puahuambapoua e maupfimba." I encourage you to try pronouncing this. I tried to write it as phonetically as possible. If you master this, you'll be able to greet people in a truly esoteric language, spoken by a maximum of 25,000 people in the mountains of western-central Africa. Congratulations! Now come visit and put your new knowledge to use.

We then moved on to the project, the reason we'd gathered that day. I started by giving them my expectations for the meeting and a general introduction to the project. Then I asked for their expectations of the project. I asked what were the most serious concerns for a coffee farmer in Batoufam and how did they think we could address them.

The responses took us right back to the old and the new. The older farmers were most concerned with current prices and buying practices, citing dismal, unbearably low prices and underhanded buying practices. The younger farmers were most concerned with regenerating old plantations and creating new ones. Their thinking was consumed entirely with increasing the coffee production for the future, while the older farmers were fixed on improving the viability of coffee farming today. There were numerous exchanges, heated at times (almost exclusively in patois, with a translator giving me the play by play). Finally a middle-aged farmer, probably in his 40's or 50's, stood and attempted the big picture. He looked to the younger farmers and said, "I understand that you want to increase your yields in the future, but if the price you receive is so low that it doesn't merit the work, then whats the point. You're simply increasing your misery. More work for more production, if you're still operating at a loss, means more loss. Why don't we try first to get better prices, then if we reestablish coffee farming as a profitable practice, we'll work on increasing production." He got the big picture.

And with that realization, we had middle ground, we had an accord, and we could start a plan of action.

The immediate question became, "How do we get higher prices?" I decided to use an example, a relatable everyday commodity sold in the local market: avocados. Take two avocados of the exact same size in the exact same market, I proposed. What would make one higher priced than the other? They responded that it would be based on the quality. So translate that to coffee and you realize that to get better prices you need better quality.

The next question: "How do we produce a better quality coffee?" This is a much more involved question and one that we would cover more completely in the following meeting. But the fact that we arrived at this question together meant that the meeting had been a success. So we scheduled the next meeting for eight days later (keeping the meetings on their traditional day of rest) and closed for the day. Spirits were high, interests were up and hope was building. The old and the new together on top of the hill.

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.