February 15, 2011

February 15, 2011 – Tuesday
--This was supposed to be a slow morning with a plan to leave town late in the morning. I tried out my French over breakfast with a pleasant man who attempted his English with me. He is a government auditor from Yaounde here on assignment with Sodecam headquarters – Sodecam is the national cotton processing company. I told him I’d seen a woman wearing a dress made of an African print that portrayed the Sodecam emblem, cotton plants, cotton balls, and cottonseed oil – he said I could get that fabric at the Sodecam office in Garoua, and then offered to arrange a tour of the plant for us! and in a few minutes we were on our way.
--At the gate we were taken to a driver who expected us and drove us to the headquarters offices, and escorted to the General Manager’s Office where we were greeted most cordially.

The Cotton Fiber Plant Supervisor was our tour guide. He explained all the steps from delivery of truckloads of loose raw cotton to the finished bales. Then we were taken to meet the Cotton Seed Oil Production Manager. Again we were toured through from start to finish. Back to the Manager’s office where we met with several supervisors who answered our questions very thoughtfully. I asked if there was something that we, as ordinary American citizens, can do to support the Cameroon cotton industry. They replied very thoughtfully - we could encourage anything that will support the growers – prices on the world cotton market have fallen so much that the growers are desperately impoverished. Indeed, as we passed through cotton-growing areas, our impression was that they are poverty-stricken.
--Then we visited the Garoua Crafts Market where we were mobbed by clamoring vendors of everything we didn’t want and a few things that we did - I bought some gifts and souvenirs.
--As we were leaving the area I overheard men talking to Njoke about not wanting white people there – this was the only such experience we’ve had and averted it easily. Of much greater concern was a fight that broke out nearby and we left quickly.
--We went to a restaurant for lunch of fish, plantain and rice, with “33.” We had a large private dining room complete with Christmas decorations, to ourselves because we wanted to have beer and thus, we couldn’t be served in the regular dining room.
--We drove and drove on a paved highway with lots of big, deep potholes to Ngaoundere where we spent the night at the Archdiocese rest house – not as nice as in Garoua, but comfortable enough. Supper at the eating place at the train station that we found when we arrived in Ngaoundere on our way north. The proprietress remembered me from the last time there and we chatted about how to make local foods – now I know a little more about ebodje, pastiche, and eru. Mother Superior had promised she’d lock us out if we weren’t back by 9 pm, so we were tucked in our beds with time to spare.