A little adventure to Fujua and the Fondom of Laikom

A few weeks ago in one of my interviews, the old woman I was interviewing, Hajiya Sa'adatu, said that her grandfather, Mai Kyaungida, used to travel to and do trading at the Hausa settlement of Fujua, located in the Fondom (chiefdom) of Laikom (Laikom is where the Kom people of Cameroon originate). In her tale, she told me that the Fon (chief) of Laikom asked her grandfather what he should give him in return for all of the items he brought his way. And Mai Kyaungida said, 'give me some small small woman, I like me some small small woman.' So the Fon gave him one of his young daughters, too young to be married, but Mai Kyaungida took her all the same. He kept her in the Hausa quarter of Bamenda, and when she reached the marrying age, they had her convert to Islam, changed her name to Hadiza, and then he made her his bride. This Hadiza was Hajiya Sa'adatu's grandmother.

To verify this tale, as well as other stories I heard about Fujua and Laikom, which are situated near each other, I decided to take a trip to these places which lie about two hours' drive north of Bamenda. I took with me my friend, Hadijah, as well as an educated, intelligent and helpful young Hausa man (Umaru) from the Hausa quarter of Bamenda. As you can see in the photo above, the road to Fundong--the administrative headquarter of the division we were traveling to--was quite treacherous. But at least the road itself was good. We arrived at Fujua at about 10am. There I interviewed an elderly man and woman. Many people were not present in the village that day because the local market had taken it's turn in another town. We did get much information, however, and I started to see some important historical patterns for my work.

After these interviews, we decided to go the palace of the Fon of Laikom. This was a few kilometers past Fujua on a gravel road. I drove the car further and further into the mountains. At first the road was fine but as we kept climbing, it became more sandy. Finally, the car just couldn't make it up anymore. So we had to leave the car behind, and trek for another 30 minutes up the mountain. We finally made it to the palace and we were given an audience with the Fon himself, a man of 87 years but still going strong.

We bowed to the Fon and presented him with our gifts of Fanta (I'm sure people in the past used to bring palm wine, but we found out beforehand that he likes soda drinks) and kola nuts. We then were seated on the opposite end of his court. From his throne he inquired why we came to him, where I was from, why did I take such a risk in seeing him, and why my husband allowed me to travel to remote places like this. He spoke no English, but his courtier/translator spoke very good English. I then told him I wanted to ask him a few questions for my research, to understand his perspective on the history of the Fujua Hausa settlement in his Fondom. I was also hoping that there would be some Kom oral tradition to this end. All of my requests sat well with the Fon, and my Hausa friend and I approached the throne and proceeded to interview the Fon for close to 40 minutes.

At one point, I asked him whether or not he keeps a charm. He answered in the affirmative, but when I asked him what elements made up his charm, he said I would have to become his queen first before he would tell me. I politely declined, but asked again to no avail. He then said he would like for me to find another woman of my characteristics to become his queen. I said I had no power to make any woman do this, but he was insistent. Just to get it over with, I said I would try.

Before leaving, the Fon wanted to bless us so that we would have a safe journey back to Bamenda. His courtier demonstrated how this was done. The Fon poured the Fanta (orange soad) into a glass and drank from it. The courtier was hunched below the Fon's throne on the steps, with his hands cupped together in front of his own mouth. Then the Fon proceeded to pour the Fanta from the glass into the courtier's hands, at which time the courtier quick sucked up the Fanta. I then, of course, had to follow suit. So I knelt below the Fon. He poured more Fanta into his glass and then poured it into my palms--which, I should add, were completedly dirty from driving and trekking up the dirt roads). He poured so much Fanta though, that I couldn't get it all into my mouth so it ended up spilling everywhere! Umaru went next. Hadijah was also supposed to go through this, but she told a white lie, saying that she was fasting that day. So she happily escaped the dirty, sticky state the rest of us found ourselves in!

By this time, we were all ready to leave. The whole thing was a bit eerie-feeling. We walked back quite quickly to the car and high-tailed it out of there. We got back to Fujua at the mid-day prayer time. So we stopped so that Hadija and Umaru could wash and pray. I also thankfully was able to wash up a bit. After this whole ordeal though, I then needed to drive back to Bamenda. Normally I wouldn't blink an eye at a two-hour drive, but the road has one too many turns in it for my liking!

When we finally got back into the city limits of Bamenda at about 4pm that afternoon, I can safely say that I was never so happy to be in Bamenda, to be back 'home'! While I know I should go back to Fujua to follow up on the research, I also loathe the prospect of doing so -- even though they said next time they would gather all the elderly people for me for a group interview. I came to the conclusion yesterday that I myself will not go back. Rather, I hope to send Umaru in my stead as he is more comfortable and familiar with the place. Even though I'm happy that I did make this trip--and even a lot our Cameroonian friends were impressed given the remote location of these places!--I really feel I don't need to push my luck! The stress of it all put me out of commission for two days afterward as well, time I can't afford to waste as I only have about two months of research time left!

But I figure, in the end, this all makes for a good story -- and I hope you have all enjoyed it!

To all of our blog readers: sorry we have been remiss the past couple of weeks of adding posts to the blog. Sadie and I have both been incredibly busy during the week, and thus completely exhausted in the evenings and on weekends. I hope you can forgive us, especially since we know that many of you check our blog frequently.

This said, I'm giving you a double dose today -- network status permitting.

The picture you see here is of Aishatu Ibrahim, a seventy-something year-old Hausa woman here in the old Hausa quarter of Bamenda. As many of you know, one of the themes of my research is cleanliness/hygiene and changes in understanding the human body. Aishatu is a woman of many many talents, one of which she is showing here. About two weeks ago, she showed me the process of making 'bakin sabulu' or 'black soap', which is supposedly an old Hausa tradition. To make the soap, Aishatu first burns peels of plantains, coco yams, etc. Then she soaks the ash in water, and strains the ash from the water. Then she places that water in the black iron pot you see here in the photo, adding 'miyanga' or 'palm kernel oil'. The black sludge-like stuff in the large bowl just behind her is the finished soap. Most people in Bamenda and in Cameroon generally don't use this soap anymore, as it was never taken up in commercial/mass-produced form. But some Hausa women still do take the time to make it, and actually prefer this soap to other, more popular soaps, in washing their newborns and toddlers. This is also a small money-making venture for Aishatu, as other women in the quarter will purchase this soap from her. She can then use this money to buy food and other items for her own consumption...including those bananas and coco yams she will use to start this process all over again.

Appliance woes

OK, so Sadie and I bought a used fridge--a smaller-sized one--in late November with the help of our friend Dairou. It was a pretty old fridge that the patron of the business got in Europe (just about all electrical applicances and cars and computers and etc etc here are used and imported from overseas), but we thought it should probably work just fine, right? Absolutely wrong! After one day, the fridge overloaded our voltage capacity and all the electricity went out in our apartment. This is hindsight, however, for at the time we thought the problem was how the wires were set up in the apartment or something. Our caretaker had an electrician come to look at everything, and even he thought it was probably the fridge. But everyone else said, "no, it can't be the fridge." In any case, it had stopped working so Sadie and I brought it back to the store where we gave them a little money to fix it. Needed a new part -- whatever. We got it back and it did the same thing. This time we were absolutely certain it was the fridge's wiring. The telling evidence here is that when Sadie tried to move the thing to unplug it, she got shocked just by touching the top of it!! Needless to say, we took it back immediately, but the salesboy said he couldn't give us our money back. What? "No, the patron says we can only give you the money back if we sell this fridge at some time." *#&%*! OK, well, whatever. Fine. So we go back a couple weeks later. The fridge is still there. No takers. Then we come back just before Christmas and tell them that they can keep our money, our business, but just give us a TV or something. "I have to call my patron," says the salesboy. Again, ok, fine. I come back a few days later and he never called him. I make him call him right then and there. He comes back to say I must give them an extra $40 to take a TV. "WHAT?!?!? NO, no way. You're only doing this to me because I'm white." "No, no," says the salesboy. "My patron doesn't even know you are white." I say we're coming back with a Cameroonian friend the following week, which we do--two of them. We finally get the salesboy to call his patron again (note: a lie is caught here for he talks to his patron about the white man who had the problem with the fridge). He says we can go to the other shop where his patron is today. So we go there and after much negotiation, Sadie and I get a TV -- though we did have to put in an extra $30 for it. Our friends said the TV was worth what we paid for it, so all is good. Uhhh...not really. After 5 days of enjoying our new entertainment--which consists of 2 channels, one of which shows a South African channel called 'E'--and after getting sucked into WWE wrestling and bad Sunday night movies like 'XXX' and 'Exit Wounds' (though we did catch 'Tootsie' on Sunday morning!), the TV decided to stop working. Ugh. So I bring it back to the store just this past Wednesday where the patron's technician 'fixed' it: it worked for a day then kaput. So back I go again today, and now I'm waiting for the replacement TV... because, you know, the technician needs to 'look' at it before they hand it over to us. I'm hoping the third time is a charm, but I'm not holding my breath. Cross your fingers for us, alright?

Muslim Women Association of Bamenda

Here are a couple of pics of some of the women I have been interviewing for my project. The first pic on the left is of Hawa Mohamed, who is supposedly 120 years old. She is the daughter of the first Sarkin Hausawa (Hausa chief) in Bamenda-Abakwa who came here just after the First World War. And she has had--count 'em--5 husbands!! Outliving them all! The other pic is of all the women I met during the first interview with the association, which happened the day after Christmas.