A Gaggle of Giggling Girls

I remember vividly my days of summer camp. There were many. The art camps, the soccer camps, cross country camps and 4-H camp. Camps kept me out from under my mother's feet during the beautiful, blissful, sweaty summer days. Sleepover camps were the best. I made friends I would never forget, I drove counselors crazy, and I completely ignored lights out to whisper and giggle late into the night.

I loved camps, and it has been one of my greatest pleasures so far in Cameroon to bring summer camp to 26 lively girls here. Not that it was easy or quick... Danielle, Lara, our counterparts, and I started the grant process in late February. We wrote or updated two handbooks entirely in French. We found a location, someone to cook us three meals a day, we negotiated over mattresses and flip chart paper and paper for coloring. We sent out applications and consent forms and invitations to the final ceremony. We stressed and worried and fretted. Everything that could go wrong or could be harder than it needed to - was.

And yet - somehow - magically - miraculously, even - the camp went off virtually without a hitch.

The formatrices: Anne, me, Danielle, Lara, and Antonia (Allison missed the picture.)

The morning of June 16, still misty and damp from rain the night before, the 6 facilitators (me, Lara, Danielle, Antonia, Allison, and our good friend and counterpart Anne) and 21 participants appeared on the campus of elementary school Kinder's House at Banock. The girls came from Bafoussam, from Bansoa and Bassosia and Penka-Michel, and from Baleng. They were excited and nervous, carrying their belongings and wondering what exactly would be happening that day, every day. What would they learn? What would they eat? Would they make friends with the strangers from other places? Would they have time to nap?

After many introductions and energizers and ice breakers, the girls began to relax a little around us and around each other. They seemed to enjoy learning about life skills like communication, decision-making, and leadership. They laughed riotously when I forced them to shout "PENIS!" over and over, so that they wouldn't be ashamed of saying the word. They screamed and shook their heads when Lara handed them condoms blown up like balloons and stuffed with myths and facts about contraception; but by the end of camp they were all capable of demonstrating and explaining how to put a condom on a wooden penis.

Of course, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows (we did see one!). Sometimes those girls drove us nuts. Half of them stayed up all night, whispering and giggling about the things adolescent girls whisper and giggle about.  The other half got up at 4 am because - well, I have no idea why. They raced to get seconds at meals, pushing and shoving like starving beasts for the delicious food Laurentine prepared for us. But we got a glimpse into the feelings of our own former camp counselors, and if that's not karma I don't know what is.

We watched these girls grow, gain confidence, and find answers to all the questions they never felt able to ask before. Every time I teach, I have to hold in the laughter that bubbles up as I decipher the anonymous questions that seem so impenetrable and pressing. Can a pregnant woman have sex, and if so does she have to be on top or on bottom? What happens if a man urinates and ejaculates at the same time? Can you get pregnant from using the same towel that a boy already used? The list goes on and on... But we don't laugh, because we want these girls to feel safe and know there are no stupid questions.

At the end of the week, on a sunny Saturday morning, parents and officials started streaming in for the end-of-camp ceremony. The girls performed skits, songs, and poems that they had written themselves. Others showed artistic posters they had done. All demonstrated what they had learned and would, in turn, teach to others in their communities. They promised to be good role models and peer educators in a solemn oath, they received certificates and group photographs, and we took even more photographs. There were speeches. And then - as at any good Cameroonian fete - WE ATE.

This has been one of my most fulfilling projects and experiences in Cameroon. It was not just about the learning or peer educating, but also about building relationships with girls who have faced a lot of adversity already. It was learning their dreams and singing along to Justin Timberlake and Maitre Gims together and getting my hair done in cornrows. I felt like a part of things. And I forgot the cultural differences and remembered all the similarities: adolescent girls are adolescent girls the world over.

Cherry on top - one of the girls has already done a condom demonstration to about 30 youth in her quartier, hoping to help the prevent some early and unwanted pregnancies (a major problem in my village). I thought: we must have done something right.

Danielle leading an energizer on the first morning of camp.

Fun time in the evenings; a night of dancing sport, led by Lara & Danielle.

Me teaching a lesson about something to girls from Bafoussam & Bansoa.

Photo de famille / Group photo at Kinder's House de Banock. 

Madame Rebecca Talks About Sex

Friday the 13th of December, year 2013, 13 o'clock. Not the most auspicious time or date, but I didn't choose it and I was going to make the most of it.

It was my first sex ed class. Teaching it, not taking it, of course. 

Let me set the scene: I was at Kinder's House Banock (KHB): an elementary school, started by Spaniards, given a German name, and run by and for Cameroonians. KHB is located in Banock, a nearby quartier in my arrondissement, so I took a 15 minute moto ride down to the main road and then strolled for an extra 20 minutes to arrive at the school. The day was cool enough for long sleeves and a long skirt to be not quite warm enough, but still no where near my idea of Christmas weather. The wind was blowing the ubiquitous red dust, dust that was becoming even more ingrained into my sandaled feet with each step and changing my skin to a color I've never seen occur naturally. In other words, it was a normal day. Except that it was Friday the 13th, 2013, 13 o'clock. And my first sex ed class. 

When I arrived at Kinder's House about an hour early, I hung out with the teachers and "helped" (read: sat and watched) them plan the Christmas Party, to be held next Wednesday (December 18th). It was basically an audition, where students aged 3 and up performed dances, songs, skits, and recitals that they had practiced in class. The teachers then decided together which were good enough for the parents to see the day of the fête de Noël. As my watched ticked nearer and nearer to 13:00, I started fidgeting in my seat more than the kids were. I wondered anxiously, Maybe I won't have to teach today. Maybe this will take too long. Maybe Professor André won't need me until next week.