tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69169938423446088482024-03-06T03:23:37.134+01:00Footprints in Red SandTeach me to do your will, for you are my God! -Psalm 143,10Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-67115732331169706962010-10-15T11:51:00.002+02:002010-10-15T11:51:25.522+02:00NY BLOGGwww.pernillestankeromting.blogspot.comPernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-57594376932455899732010-03-30T11:01:00.001+02:002010-03-30T11:02:09.568+02:00IDUNN!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Ozg76JQ_Wi4lfNbsB4rBtE1jYAbVjYc0xjcznV2feyig9vZHTE_TWavCNoU0ToO-UD-XUy9A_SbKwcwcAepO98AbURUfUAE-lWe7xv77tgSzOtAu6EdmDOnbeme_QYTCFYT3-Kq6aVvr/s1600/P8220064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Ozg76JQ_Wi4lfNbsB4rBtE1jYAbVjYc0xjcznV2feyig9vZHTE_TWavCNoU0ToO-UD-XUy9A_SbKwcwcAepO98AbURUfUAE-lWe7xv77tgSzOtAu6EdmDOnbeme_QYTCFYT3-Kq6aVvr/s320/P8220064.jpg" /></a></div>Idunn, min kjære nasara, husker du da vi var spente og uerfarne og lurte på hva det var vi kom til å møte da vi kom til Kamerun? At vi var så sykt gira, og vi var overbevist om at vi var det beste teamet i hele verden, selv om vi ikke ante hvordan teamarbeidet vårt i Kamerun egentlig kom til å se ut?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitG75m2XAwXKNMdGg5OwZgTRPHNdH-iY3eCzGp3_-3-ZHnS9jvAAEpFnQ5CKqL08QU_ipxmiZOrBm6-z21czhvubn5mG8TjUaJkJqUG5avh4uwpQa1Xc0aPJ4qyz95Xhlo4XPVwn44wbwU/s1600/PA040001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitG75m2XAwXKNMdGg5OwZgTRPHNdH-iY3eCzGp3_-3-ZHnS9jvAAEpFnQ5CKqL08QU_ipxmiZOrBm6-z21czhvubn5mG8TjUaJkJqUG5avh4uwpQa1Xc0aPJ4qyz95Xhlo4XPVwn44wbwU/s320/PA040001.jpg" /></a></div>Vi møtte jammen uventede ting, selv om det som overrasket kanskje ikke var det samme som det vi trodde vi kom til å reagere på. Men jeg syns vi gjorde det bra. Jeg har satt stor pris på våre lattermilde øyeblikk, og til tross for våre relativt store forskjeller, så syns jeg vi har samarbeidet bra. Helt fra våre første to timer på kamerunsk jord, der hvem som helst kunne revet seg i håret og tenkt "OI-OI-OI! -Hvordan skal dette gå?"(Yes! Jeg fikk den med! Hihi). <br />
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Du har krydret min hverdag, fargelagt mine opplevelser og gitt tilværelsen gode nyanser. Det har vært gøy å erfare Kamerun med deg, du har vært en så bra teammate at det er ikke vits engang. Ditt søte smil, dine gode ord og tanker, ditt positive og sosiale vesen - og ikke minst din herlige latter når du ser på Friends med ørepropper - er noe jeg vil huske og verdsette lenge. <br />
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Nå vet vi hva vi kom til, og vi vet hvordan teamarbeidet ble. Hadde bare lyst til å gi deg en liten hyllest sån i all offentlighet :) Jeg er fortsatt overbevist om at jeg ikke kunne hatt noe bedre team enn deg. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc03ALqlaulMudXAEGtTPGWgQVyo92E_GYICviuiS7CxLw3IgRaxwE-tDJ4huFa9-ol_ybaebExeHEwGZyUsz-0HpzQDpe2B2tpP1B8S-gbbcw5T2I8w9tUj1TMXmylu_ZGIDgeTQ2zlNo/s1600/P1170274.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc03ALqlaulMudXAEGtTPGWgQVyo92E_GYICviuiS7CxLw3IgRaxwE-tDJ4huFa9-ol_ybaebExeHEwGZyUsz-0HpzQDpe2B2tpP1B8S-gbbcw5T2I8w9tUj1TMXmylu_ZGIDgeTQ2zlNo/s320/P1170274.jpg" /></a></div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-21096003870844600292010-03-03T21:42:00.001+01:002010-03-03T21:46:20.895+01:00FriendsMaking friends when you come to a new culture is not always easy. First of all, there is the language: conversations do not flow freely when you feel your communication skills are comparable with a three-year-old (luckily they have improved along with the length of my stay).<br />
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Secondly, you have to figure out the social and cultural codes: what do they talk about, what do they do? How are their lives, and how can you relate to them? And even more deeply; what does the world look like in their eyes?<br />
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Many times during my five months here in Cameroon, I have asked myself if I will be able to look back on my stay here and remember faces, names and friends. Often I have been discouraged, thinking that the answer would be no. Most of my relations are utterly shallow and superficial.<br />
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Thinking further, I find that maybe I have to redefine my conception of friendship a little. All friendships start with small steps. To grow closer takes time, and half a year is not so long after all. If I turn from how well I know certain people, and look upon how many people I have actually gotten in touch with during my stay, I find that I have many friends; names and faces that stop and ask how I am doing when we meet at work, choir rehearsal, volleyball or on the street. We actually have a relation. <br />
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Sometimes that is all it takes. That is how well you actually need to know people before you can go one step further. Tonight almost my whole choir came to our house to sing, pray, dance, laugh, play and eat "poff-corn", <i>beignets </i>and <i>makala </i>(different kinds of doughnuts) together. We had the most wonderful time, and I could really feel that these are my friends. My being part of that group makes a difference. They notice if I am gone, and care about my well-being.<br />
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I belong a little to them, and they will always stay somewhere in my thoughts and memories and e-mail adress list when I return to Norway. We are friends. <i>Nous sommes ensemble. </i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbJyiVcXbVv4ePTa7poaWm8gQvjvd4tXF5uHZlG6e9M5q0w8Ggcl4JXxwiTL92ljYcDfe04fsjwmQhphWfEmPigCz1pXdxd0KePieJFL8FY8D2qcQucX-Zum9LrcKvZ2C9R3xIvf-3JDl3/s1600-h/P2130072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbJyiVcXbVv4ePTa7poaWm8gQvjvd4tXF5uHZlG6e9M5q0w8Ggcl4JXxwiTL92ljYcDfe04fsjwmQhphWfEmPigCz1pXdxd0KePieJFL8FY8D2qcQucX-Zum9LrcKvZ2C9R3xIvf-3JDl3/s320/P2130072.jpg" /></a></div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-72150017464837437432010-02-27T11:13:00.001+01:002010-02-27T21:42:02.597+01:00You know Africa wellBargaining is not one of my favourite things. How low should I go to get the price I want? Is it not rude to go too low? Really, I do not need to bargain, but then again, would it be rude not to? In Cameroon everyone bargains on everything. So to fit in, should not I too bargain?<br />
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Slightly uncomfortable, I suggest my price in a low voice. He whispers back, offers a new price, still more than I am willing to give. We discuss a little while, I smile and he laughs. Finally it closes in, and our suggestions differ only with a thousand francs (13 NOK). -Let's meet at the five hundred in between, I say, and he laughs, -You really know Africa well, don't you?<br />
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Maybe it was not that bad after all...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3THlUPh5vwKJjtRyshn71-ux0wNewD1udIOmmhPwRZ3OuV0sbA_g4zWTaKFZpDU3zZBpC7LGxT9dzCqgHL348COQg2lG-wa5D42GKES6_xvB1qtdD_bAPHRtPadpXJLv9tZizjpH-Zvfk/s1600-h/PA070013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3THlUPh5vwKJjtRyshn71-ux0wNewD1udIOmmhPwRZ3OuV0sbA_g4zWTaKFZpDU3zZBpC7LGxT9dzCqgHL348COQg2lG-wa5D42GKES6_xvB1qtdD_bAPHRtPadpXJLv9tZizjpH-Zvfk/s320/PA070013.jpg" /></a></div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-26450944549501148892010-02-23T18:55:00.000+01:002010-02-23T18:55:57.690+01:00MeigangaThursday we set out for Meiganga, a village about four hours west of Ngaoundéré, together with Benjamin the contactperson and four Canadians. Their mission was to learn about evangelisation, as the Canadian church (together with many other Western countries) no longer seems to reach out to people in their own country.<br />
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The Cameroonian church is growing, while many of the countries that once brought the Good News to Africa now need to learn anew how to evangelize. In Meiganga we were attending a week of seminars, to hear and see how the church (EELC) empowers its evangelists. <br />
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We attended some of the seminars, visited the seminary of Meiganga, spoke with its students and visited them in their homes, and joined small groups of evangelists when they were having outreach Saturday. We went from door to door, visited those who were interested, talked about God with them and prayed together. Idunn and I also worked as interpreters, as our Canadian friends did not understand French. Amazing how much French we actually are able to understand and speak after some months here!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtwzMEjM82GS1B2wgk9xvvxUIpKXmgfvH1oAZRdLvqB4J35OCm7sDZvQ6ut81Qq7u5Mf_KVy13rlOxn2rqw4oPSZvrNxgxPQmAdCvipSCSMd_cxW1zqhi8xSOY1G7n0158binKRw0LhTc/s1600-h/P2180103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtwzMEjM82GS1B2wgk9xvvxUIpKXmgfvH1oAZRdLvqB4J35OCm7sDZvQ6ut81Qq7u5Mf_KVy13rlOxn2rqw4oPSZvrNxgxPQmAdCvipSCSMd_cxW1zqhi8xSOY1G7n0158binKRw0LhTc/s320/P2180103.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Students at the seminary of Meiganga studying in the library</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span> </div><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7UXIZ-ElDfXxWeZDOUvz8th3B9g2IGnuBban6Z1_cQ5jBdxYIttW2MmWivXptAKPxi8T250YRhZeyDk6qAozJKzt34UZeRHzFwhWUtQ1nePCDP-2LWUpPtbLuE47C9bJivVVbKRZXAoQI/s1600-h/P2190121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7UXIZ-ElDfXxWeZDOUvz8th3B9g2IGnuBban6Z1_cQ5jBdxYIttW2MmWivXptAKPxi8T250YRhZeyDk6qAozJKzt34UZeRHzFwhWUtQ1nePCDP-2LWUpPtbLuE47C9bJivVVbKRZXAoQI/s320/P2190121.jpg" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The students' wives' class</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDK0rPfklFXH9-BaqsY3WQd-T19zZVpBdgnKUNuzuEg0kQfjRnBOOPO6lETgLe-OtKoi3WnQsWClzJnhdzYJlc3D-CJnh60RPf4iciviRelVXkXr3hz62GOhv74AAXBcBSaSkwpxBbENh1/s1600-h/P2190125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDK0rPfklFXH9-BaqsY3WQd-T19zZVpBdgnKUNuzuEg0kQfjRnBOOPO6lETgLe-OtKoi3WnQsWClzJnhdzYJlc3D-CJnh60RPf4iciviRelVXkXr3hz62GOhv74AAXBcBSaSkwpxBbENh1/s320/P2190125.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Talking with David the theology student about evangelization</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span> </div><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiMiMNrRGVCmDsftQRyB7l_L52m_AFXGPdSPu8QufsMCOl5VAc8xt35pT_qRY3aYIkCHRyM-MtTZL1zWmMEvCXtUtIhJROaXBUZlI60KzqydOmTKDuG4CVlB9fmkNuUhqdkWEGPI7OaBvr/s1600-h/P2190146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiMiMNrRGVCmDsftQRyB7l_L52m_AFXGPdSPu8QufsMCOl5VAc8xt35pT_qRY3aYIkCHRyM-MtTZL1zWmMEvCXtUtIhJROaXBUZlI60KzqydOmTKDuG4CVlB9fmkNuUhqdkWEGPI7OaBvr/s320/P2190146.jpg" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Visiting Philomene, the only female theology student at the seminary</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUlRt9-yx8RCEvMEaWkuu3pDC8880p5lD33mJrJlUHLR82B0kP7vQ7sb2MilDYNxc-k9I8rgW7kRO1Wo2ACNhZ04gEqRJPU3L6ZEDceiWuG1yNvTuW7tBY5o888-oL63Q3kZQaZlnaIZJj/s1600-h/P2190163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUlRt9-yx8RCEvMEaWkuu3pDC8880p5lD33mJrJlUHLR82B0kP7vQ7sb2MilDYNxc-k9I8rgW7kRO1Wo2ACNhZ04gEqRJPU3L6ZEDceiWuG1yNvTuW7tBY5o888-oL63Q3kZQaZlnaIZJj/s320/P2190163.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Canadians handing out gifts to the evangelists, as a sign of gratefulness for being invited to the seminar</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span> </div><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9PbmgmIZoQbTAQCbpW3xyH5cPElAkQVHDIvt_ewE0m5egFK7OKOYHkLQYxjDI7A8ypifLqpFg55MQTVUf2DaTD-DNJY020LarpJeNU5NwiEix8nRiAzSUcta1qKWJRS6OFJb0svRlmFL/s1600-h/P2190138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9PbmgmIZoQbTAQCbpW3xyH5cPElAkQVHDIvt_ewE0m5egFK7OKOYHkLQYxjDI7A8ypifLqpFg55MQTVUf2DaTD-DNJY020LarpJeNU5NwiEix8nRiAzSUcta1qKWJRS6OFJb0svRlmFL/s320/P2190138.jpg" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Filmez-moi! Filmez-moi, madame!" (If you have a camera, you have no choice:) )</span> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span> </div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-539337433258178852010-02-21T21:46:00.000+01:002010-02-21T21:46:04.561+01:00Fête de la JeunesseThursday last week we celebrated Fête de la Jeunesse with our girls at Centre Socio Menager. So it was that we were dressed up in orange and yellow dresses of the latest fashion-model, and marched in front of loads of people. I even got the honorable assignment to carry the flag - something that did not pass by unseen: I was actually to be seen on national television on the evening news...<br />
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I encourage you to read more about this event and see the pictures on <a href="http://bischler.blogspot.com/">the Bischler family's blog</a>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-58018307497567475322010-02-13T17:07:00.005+01:002010-02-15T07:46:56.255+01:00Picnic, African style"The bus leaves at 06.30, and if you are not present by then, you are not going at all." The board of my choir, Gospel Singers, do not seem to appreciate the term "African time", but no matter how hard they seem to fight it, African time always gets its way. So by 09.15, we were actually on our way to the village Wak (we thought).<br />
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We also thought we were going in the Gospel Singers' bus,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ZE037WsOXFVHaME9JZODhNnufvd2MIlbTHZ13rJyz7FjBUuJDKT1Q_8hOPfz2STXPE9nYvRKXQBkEO8iEl9leVpYR1vCP6z986Xyd8NILKseCfmoBrTe2sJJczeGJePLQKnTp8xeaGVE/s1600-h/P2130001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ZE037WsOXFVHaME9JZODhNnufvd2MIlbTHZ13rJyz7FjBUuJDKT1Q_8hOPfz2STXPE9nYvRKXQBkEO8iEl9leVpYR1vCP6z986Xyd8NILKseCfmoBrTe2sJJczeGJePLQKnTp8xeaGVE/s320/P2130001.jpg" /></a></div>but all of a sudden it went away full of other people, so we ended up sitting 21 persons in this shabby car with 15 seats:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFsI6h0Iv2-4jcO8p3sGnN2ofAuLtDgL8PkKMzqxnAKkhboeuxf4IAZEhvDh0oQ-zUp4dE_C3JnTMJoK5S01bzaXsmHULYFAiFGEQWKdVD05EBpjHV7aAuG4s_6W5joKmzadh9hv0GxR1k/s1600-h/P2130003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFsI6h0Iv2-4jcO8p3sGnN2ofAuLtDgL8PkKMzqxnAKkhboeuxf4IAZEhvDh0oQ-zUp4dE_C3JnTMJoK5S01bzaXsmHULYFAiFGEQWKdVD05EBpjHV7aAuG4s_6W5joKmzadh9hv0GxR1k/s320/P2130003.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo: Samuel Fomgbami</span></i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The lack of space, the hard seats or the loose door did not spoil the joyous mood. Nor finding out that we were not going to Wak after all. Someone important had decided that we were headed for a small place with possibilities to take a swim near the student village Dang (12 km from Ngaoundéré) instead. </div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOVVfHbAluPInUbUBQPgpia54aWxsqtIk08rDZjN-O3T9eS9hMmfJG_MEd5iHq_pEtLWMtCyLUTb8YpxEiHBhYnOYuSLe84BbLouTXFy75nXtcZQnTJKZpySI7jkT2gCPQJydZ0hKUk25/s1600-h/P2130011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOVVfHbAluPInUbUBQPgpia54aWxsqtIk08rDZjN-O3T9eS9hMmfJG_MEd5iHq_pEtLWMtCyLUTb8YpxEiHBhYnOYuSLe84BbLouTXFy75nXtcZQnTJKZpySI7jkT2gCPQJydZ0hKUk25/s320/P2130011.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo: Samuel Fomgbami</span></i> </div>For some, the fact that we had to walk for 45 minutes to get there seemed a bit overwhelming at first, but as we got there, the walk was already forgotten. After we had crossed the river,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJWJ2HMCWV9z0ezpMVthLgJKT6U4fPFr3oLcefB7M8DJAPaJvqalpuCPF3xGpAFJW9P05WKsuxIjGEjofbOzATS1BA5CZiRuNX39k11QK8oHV2PHVs6N-bSldytHa4RHwtuNRo4RE2IR4/s1600-h/P2130076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJWJ2HMCWV9z0ezpMVthLgJKT6U4fPFr3oLcefB7M8DJAPaJvqalpuCPF3xGpAFJW9P05WKsuxIjGEjofbOzATS1BA5CZiRuNX39k11QK8oHV2PHVs6N-bSldytHa4RHwtuNRo4RE2IR4/s320/P2130076.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">we reached a place that resembled any Norwegian beach a random summer day (except that there were no beach): a lot of young people where enjoying a Saturday with friends, food, a bonfire, guitar playing and swimming in the COLD water. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQB_Wf_ils18lYWJH8VYnvLrRA165WsMTRNfoXStnRthlFiBe9c7mJVXCDhOxf1WchQgBT7CFRWI_A7V0i0yRlHXjx5qQQz8Yam6ZrnSBCCP1cDhdAL2jVmtrt3vuIczXU5fMZQSU1XV35/s1600-h/P2130039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQB_Wf_ils18lYWJH8VYnvLrRA165WsMTRNfoXStnRthlFiBe9c7mJVXCDhOxf1WchQgBT7CFRWI_A7V0i0yRlHXjx5qQQz8Yam6ZrnSBCCP1cDhdAL2jVmtrt3vuIczXU5fMZQSU1XV35/s320/P2130039.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LyW6gR6TIiVXWpH2T98uqpfZRIPGqe1ZODjWpidGv_wjnT9UCcVmG5Nzm2ISslEuj6e_6QbjrTcImGhne9qFPH3pxyYKhtUiF0UAcHXkVl5R169rQUxhsd716Rn41lwGE-pMvUAxQKvA/s1600-h/P2130060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LyW6gR6TIiVXWpH2T98uqpfZRIPGqe1ZODjWpidGv_wjnT9UCcVmG5Nzm2ISslEuj6e_6QbjrTcImGhne9qFPH3pxyYKhtUiF0UAcHXkVl5R169rQUxhsd716Rn41lwGE-pMvUAxQKvA/s320/P2130060.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc14RQM-Wb8FpfwsA_klRu2HxgSxJX_z31G2lyXVtaW6VElsT496UcuqVf_x8lSPYULRrR3RsdUsR4zIDNYFVv_IyxYYUzHcEZn1v5hvrwqU0sbXU6-czzxgeZJovZPfm2pZGkFDJml0kv/s1600-h/P2130058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc14RQM-Wb8FpfwsA_klRu2HxgSxJX_z31G2lyXVtaW6VElsT496UcuqVf_x8lSPYULRrR3RsdUsR4zIDNYFVv_IyxYYUzHcEZn1v5hvrwqU0sbXU6-czzxgeZJovZPfm2pZGkFDJml0kv/s320/P2130058.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzFrsIaPL1gLLUeti0w-R1gDN4-I20yjZ0OIAXVvzK4uCjNoBmF4j0quDB3uAgD7_WRxmpST6ChkSljlsj4g0xKG6nJ1UmyPMSFjbg_s5fQMc5RhXroWrpBPHglAdKJaJzYNgamVGoTVL2/s1600-h/P2130052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzFrsIaPL1gLLUeti0w-R1gDN4-I20yjZ0OIAXVvzK4uCjNoBmF4j0quDB3uAgD7_WRxmpST6ChkSljlsj4g0xKG6nJ1UmyPMSFjbg_s5fQMc5RhXroWrpBPHglAdKJaJzYNgamVGoTVL2/s320/P2130052.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Some hours later, after having crossed the river on our way back, we spent a few moments in prayer and worship together with another choir that also was there, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4JISFWvsNawO3Z2xy8kyL1MLfFDCmn7hkv86u3evEsQsjMWrv4Yofd1xsoUkXub7qAZEByDJzMlGTi70hpNE-JhFF3264b5iKiVojY83C-fuXN7CAsmQDVREV_elFJFLU9K8wpVLzHF3S/s1600-h/P2130080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4JISFWvsNawO3Z2xy8kyL1MLfFDCmn7hkv86u3evEsQsjMWrv4Yofd1xsoUkXub7qAZEByDJzMlGTi70hpNE-JhFF3264b5iKiVojY83C-fuXN7CAsmQDVREV_elFJFLU9K8wpVLzHF3S/s320/P2130080.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">before we went happy, tired, laughing and singing back to Dang to find taxis going to Ngaoundéré.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtS82W1_EPGEyRSNfl-xFefxRH7ma-6U-cojhSCQnuyhKzOhWyY-8XA8rMuB-suaO8zAXUSWZs3dE-uxAt5RMwWUlT9XbFEv7ELwIsm8HCmD-whDMcmrMw4FJvbJ1NeUFV9GqUQF-cCiCM/s1600-h/P2130081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtS82W1_EPGEyRSNfl-xFefxRH7ma-6U-cojhSCQnuyhKzOhWyY-8XA8rMuB-suaO8zAXUSWZs3dE-uxAt5RMwWUlT9XbFEv7ELwIsm8HCmD-whDMcmrMw4FJvbJ1NeUFV9GqUQF-cCiCM/s320/P2130081.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In other words: a wonderful Saturday spent with wonderful people!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibU1QwU39v4UB5m02xBDFD1jzTu7iY3SVodTeMURQQ-xeqdxGhPpnmI1FI6tWCJqNtUJ63A6gCLjy7eUnylnDq69zKq7KWbYgG2vRzRqOQM5FbbitexJ1yYmHp9gzsS92h0x57egfiOazm/s1600-h/P2130071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibU1QwU39v4UB5m02xBDFD1jzTu7iY3SVodTeMURQQ-xeqdxGhPpnmI1FI6tWCJqNtUJ63A6gCLjy7eUnylnDq69zKq7KWbYgG2vRzRqOQM5FbbitexJ1yYmHp9gzsS92h0x57egfiOazm/s320/P2130071.jpg" /></a></div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-32735730106621903522010-02-08T21:26:00.000+01:002010-02-08T21:26:38.097+01:00I want to go to Norway, because of all the chocolate-You see, there is so much chocolate in Norway, so I woud like to go there, said one of the children as we were having the daily afternoon studies with the children at Rainbow orphanage. -And when are you going to show us your house?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmW1j2yw5sM8LhxN3qaGxYj37ezY7SQPAX8b5TZ6WRYgFOvjsYy_Lw1pkc_rVJwjoJv9z1K0zuNYubRp_a66duWW6zqS6dvO11_EQHvacZBSAkUUrTPJYJTY8j6oV_M3lKxQzhknIuwuE6/s1600-h/P2010002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmW1j2yw5sM8LhxN3qaGxYj37ezY7SQPAX8b5TZ6WRYgFOvjsYy_Lw1pkc_rVJwjoJv9z1K0zuNYubRp_a66duWW6zqS6dvO11_EQHvacZBSAkUUrTPJYJTY8j6oV_M3lKxQzhknIuwuE6/s320/P2010002.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Why not today, we thought, and so it was that Moussa, Miryam and Alise came with us when it was time to put aside the books, mini-blackboards and chalks for the evening. As our fridge still contains the marvellous <i>Freia</i> <i>melkesjokolade</i>, and we also had a <i>1-2-3 Sjokolademousse</i>, it was the perfect occasion to arrange Chocolate and Ligretto Night.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ILmzToySqd2D-gy-AD8q60V3vzgjUY0qZUPpW3U5CF0aKc4l3_DLutTbNJQ49h4nOhs0mpsEq7oUVs_1rIKCUagB_Ag2Mo37GlxJLKBHCZG9aufcBk9TteDsYNARjrjFw3Zob0uqhQVs/s1600-h/P2080439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ILmzToySqd2D-gy-AD8q60V3vzgjUY0qZUPpW3U5CF0aKc4l3_DLutTbNJQ49h4nOhs0mpsEq7oUVs_1rIKCUagB_Ag2Mo37GlxJLKBHCZG9aufcBk9TteDsYNARjrjFw3Zob0uqhQVs/s320/P2080439.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo: Idunn Roaldseth</span></i></div><br />
Teaching Ligretto to children, in French, is not the easiest thing to do, but we had a whole lot of fun, and everyone agreed that Norwegian chocolate is very good, and as we wondered how on Earth our stomachs could manage supper less than one hour later, we talked a bit with Lena the missionary's parrot before it was time for the three happy children to return to their home.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkNl4gjGIiS-NZbW4o-I6oMb44bTBkbfLcLHveePqQqXS9zDoZTB7_1wK1ktd9IVY_P1js3c8xNGnK8_hihu02K2rcepgkcDMr3adhs2lh7fLgE81chSMC-cwgPcUbH-8u3jzt1RgNiVn/s1600-h/P2080448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkNl4gjGIiS-NZbW4o-I6oMb44bTBkbfLcLHveePqQqXS9zDoZTB7_1wK1ktd9IVY_P1js3c8xNGnK8_hihu02K2rcepgkcDMr3adhs2lh7fLgE81chSMC-cwgPcUbH-8u3jzt1RgNiVn/s320/P2080448.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Photo: Idunn Roaldseth</i></span> </div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-60605217822593013912010-02-05T18:20:00.001+01:002010-02-05T18:20:29.767+01:00What are we going to do today?We have a schedule. We have an activity calendar hanging on our wall, where the coming events are written down. I also have a diary for the school year 2009/2010 where more or less my whole life is written down in details.<br />
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As if that could make my life in Cameroon predictable. No longer am I surprised to come to work just to be told that my boss is out travelling, or that there is no teaching this week ("everyone" knows that). Nor if my visitors bring guests I was not aware of. If, on the other hand, something actually turns out according to the plan, I almost get a bit puzzled.<br />
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You never know what the day will bring before it is over...Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-37219895561743732332010-02-03T14:46:00.003+01:002010-02-04T22:32:56.965+01:00A different weekendThis weekend Idunn and I went on a trip with Benjamin the contact person, Mama Jeanne the extra mom and Aggée the driver. The goal for the trip was the women's center in Touboro, a village about a four hours drive from Ngaoundéré.<br />
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<i>Centre Findinki Bebwe</i> in Touboro resembles the Centre Socio Menager in Ngaoundéré, where we work twice a week. It is a school for girls where they learn practical skills as cooking and sewing, and also how to write on the computer. The centre in Touboro, though, is a bit newer and bigger, and focuses more on women's rights, and how they can live lives free from abuse and injustice. It was really interesting to visit, and if we find the time (not so much left now...), we hope for a whole week there in the beginning of the next month.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjj6ucvTEcZJEjdP-Gw64bfBqnkKys_tKlkeB-2vctGnR71bk7LhUtTkuHBpM72zPDwe8TJmxYAg7wK8xDBVrhkj8ujmEdX-a4cftBg6SZknlUi5Uhy0HieHZrldDU-iqPlPj3hulWG5kW/s1600-h/P1290024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjj6ucvTEcZJEjdP-Gw64bfBqnkKys_tKlkeB-2vctGnR71bk7LhUtTkuHBpM72zPDwe8TJmxYAg7wK8xDBVrhkj8ujmEdX-a4cftBg6SZknlUi5Uhy0HieHZrldDU-iqPlPj3hulWG5kW/s320/P1290024.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Saturday the five of us went to the great market of Mbai-Mbum, that is said to be the largest market in Central Africa. In spite of the lately decrease, it was still a lot to see (and we, the <i>nasaras, </i>were seen by many...). After having been here for four months, though, I did not find it very exotic, except from the people carrying swords, knives, bows and arrows, as if those were natural items to go shopping with. That is not something you see every day in Ngaoundéré (I did not dare to photograph them though)!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRvPqGEIdG783S5OFMYYrRwq0jH_KQ0M9i45bgt5BPTKqLqy6-rkeF8zgVdEvqTgdYlZCNBtFPLU-3s0-dDcjAhogOqNID006zOv63-yTcxqkZMaFMSzoHA_uCy_961HiS2dbLfd3Z0Bu4/s1600-h/P1300047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRvPqGEIdG783S5OFMYYrRwq0jH_KQ0M9i45bgt5BPTKqLqy6-rkeF8zgVdEvqTgdYlZCNBtFPLU-3s0-dDcjAhogOqNID006zOv63-yTcxqkZMaFMSzoHA_uCy_961HiS2dbLfd3Z0Bu4/s320/P1300047.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZCKABS9BKVdcLCOSlilRcKVQqs5l22ZwqYcimUppIutL5ZAWH7T99ogPcJ0GRwXKMJYNpGes10k1X1wywGqFvzgeQO0eZvFS6R4t2HnaHJidw5_0gyvv_8LLtDQhjiMnkvXJKltpd_by/s1600-h/P1300051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZCKABS9BKVdcLCOSlilRcKVQqs5l22ZwqYcimUppIutL5ZAWH7T99ogPcJ0GRwXKMJYNpGes10k1X1wywGqFvzgeQO0eZvFS6R4t2HnaHJidw5_0gyvv_8LLtDQhjiMnkvXJKltpd_by/s320/P1300051.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(not so exotic anymore)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbPjYSBgHwi7wE01G_Nyyy5HcqYeReWRAIB-GHXGH3CfkHZJVR25QqcnHqCoRc13Tdu8ytS911FPgwwgDE0PggiGK1hnXwflKM3J3jSN3JARnAnln9ui-IVN7HoYAQctyHe9qBfogx9D6/s1600-h/P1300055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbPjYSBgHwi7wE01G_Nyyy5HcqYeReWRAIB-GHXGH3CfkHZJVR25QqcnHqCoRc13Tdu8ytS911FPgwwgDE0PggiGK1hnXwflKM3J3jSN3JARnAnln9ui-IVN7HoYAQctyHe9qBfogx9D6/s320/P1300055.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Little boy selling </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">pâte d'arrachide - </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">peanut paste</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For girls who like to travel, one of the peaks of this Saturday was to cross the border to the Central African Republic. We did not go far, only to the nearest village, but we were there! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbw1nSahyphenhyphenlgdlU1YODBpqtJPjzu-mU8_xxJC_M0bIp_Rhl9pAYFwPO4YbdH3SGDTVBU8kfBG2n-kK_JUX4Pfk-nOSbWxwfxMv-RjsepEgQ87c1jQEw1mr8L0yYJJGvRsFkj2gfrjULTrE/s1600-h/P1300058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMbw1nSahyphenhyphenlgdlU1YODBpqtJPjzu-mU8_xxJC_M0bIp_Rhl9pAYFwPO4YbdH3SGDTVBU8kfBG2n-kK_JUX4Pfk-nOSbWxwfxMv-RjsepEgQ87c1jQEw1mr8L0yYJJGvRsFkj2gfrjULTrE/s320/P1300058.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">One thing I have learned here in Cameroon, is that guests are important (maybe especially if they are white), something we got to experience to the utmost in church in Touboro; we were placed on the podium, together with the preacher and the reverend, facing the congregation. No matter how hard we try to fit in, we are continually reminded that we are different...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Home in Ngaoundéré, we are reminded too, by being followed by <i>nasara </i>cries everywhere we go. They are used to us, but people shout anyway. In the small villages, though, we learned that we apparently are quite scary, as the children ran away as soon as they saw us (some even started to cry). But people in the countryside are friendly and welcoming too, as we learned when we visited Mama Jeanne's relatives on our way home. It seems like wherever you go, you are welcome if you want to stop by, and I am no longer surprised when dinner is served (even if the visit was unanounced).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1AsXC3cJyoK7R97uWr7fF-LBInGklkbng39DKj3-NEAW8UtLpljjzxn3rLtgdmyycyQNPAog1KR5FXsHgG-8wqyIqzpMwBfkXXxFMERwIbzlOPHvtIT85GUHSQAOI1cYL-LU40L0lmXe2/s1600-h/P1310085.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1AsXC3cJyoK7R97uWr7fF-LBInGklkbng39DKj3-NEAW8UtLpljjzxn3rLtgdmyycyQNPAog1KR5FXsHgG-8wqyIqzpMwBfkXXxFMERwIbzlOPHvtIT85GUHSQAOI1cYL-LU40L0lmXe2/s320/P1310085.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">This was a really refreshing weekend, full of different experiences. Different is good!</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-87135986622637724242010-01-23T14:03:00.001+01:002010-01-24T08:51:36.599+01:00FantasiaThis weekend the <i>lamido </i>of Ngaoundéré celebrates the 13th anniversary of his reign as Muslim king of Adamaoua, our province. Idunn, Trude the missionary, Kristin the missionary kid, Thomas the new volunteer, his father and I went to town to watch the <i>fantasia</i>, a spectacular event which is quite hard to explain with words.<br />
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There were men riding horses decorated with colourful clothes, people in traditional outfits carrying spears, knifes and guns hailing the lamido, women dancing to the music from at least two different bands playing different songs at the same time, and a lot of people watching.<br />
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It felt a bit like being far, far away from modern civilization, as even the main language had changed from French to Fulani, even though we were still in the middle of town. In everyday life, my friends in town do not live so differently from any other modern person, but it is on occations like this I fully realize that Africa is different.<br />
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Different, not only as in dark skinned people, dusty roads, food, language or poverty. Different also in the sense of a rich culture developed in way other circumstances. Full of history, music, habits and interesting people. A culture worth experiencing.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: right;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ2TIjjf68N3LCVbWJ9xTUiaYhKXhf32t0lAGxpp-cME4JtBRX3xXkMIa4Uw5epVplqpfiR2hWrcMSg0ohPUE3t18s1W8ZyGAVipQ5aAEI_W6ooB_iAKqN-8d42IZRfRHrtwq7b4gwyQPz/s1600-h/P1230056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ2TIjjf68N3LCVbWJ9xTUiaYhKXhf32t0lAGxpp-cME4JtBRX3xXkMIa4Uw5epVplqpfiR2hWrcMSg0ohPUE3t18s1W8ZyGAVipQ5aAEI_W6ooB_iAKqN-8d42IZRfRHrtwq7b4gwyQPz/s320/P1230056.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-77488135178055995622010-01-21T16:40:00.003+01:002010-01-27T15:01:55.265+01:00Fasting<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Is not this the fast that I choose:</span></i></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">to loose the bonds of wickedness,</span></i></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">to undo the straps of the yoke,</span></i></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">to let the oppressed go free,</span></i></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">and to break every yoke?</span></i></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Is it not to share your bread with the hungry</span></i></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">and bring the homeless poor into your house;</span></i></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">when you see the naked, to cover him,</span></i></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?"</span></i></span><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(Isaiah 58,6-7)</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In about three weeks, the 40 days of the fast begins. Most of my life this period of the Church year has passed by without much attention, to be honest, it is not before the two last years I have even offered it a thought. What is the point of not eating for fourty days, anyway?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After having further studied the Word of God, I realise that it is not really about the food. It is about focusing on living a Godly life - to DO his Word, not only listen to it. Reading these verses from the Prophet Isaiah back in Norway, I thought, "wow, how will I be able to do this?" There are not so many hungry, poor or homeless in my neighbourhood...</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In Ngaoundéré, on the other hand, my extended neighbourhood is the poorest part of the town. You do not see many streetkids or extreme poverty on an everyday basis, but life is tough for a whole lot of people, not only in Burkina (the poorest part of town).</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, as I actually am in a place with the poor people, with the hungry, how should I fast? </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Feedback and ideas are welcomed with thanks! </span></span><br />
</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-72295421558817653892010-01-18T15:56:00.001+01:002010-01-19T21:18:16.712+01:00New beginningsThe holidays have gradually finished, and now we are back at work, and we are going to work more than ever. Before infield we had a feeling that we maybe had a little bitt too little to fill our days with, something that was confirmed to us by everyone on infield (Maria and Merethe, how are you doing now?)...<br />
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Anyway, today we started working at an orphanage called Rainbow Children's Fund, where we are going to work long Mondays and Friday afternoons. The place was founded by South Korean missionaries about a year ago, and is now the home of ten lovely children aged between four and twelve years old.<br />
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In Cameroon the chidren go to school in the morning every second week, and the other weeks they go in the afternoon. It works this way because there are not enough school buildings for everyone to be teached at the same time. Due to this, our days at RCF will vary a bit, since the schoolchildren attend a public school.<br />
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The plan is that we are going to do whatever the staff wants us to, and today that was to help the children with their homework and help out in the kitchen/learn how to cook Cameroonian food. Some days we will help out in the kindergarten too, where two of the orphans go together with other children, while the older ones are in school.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We were told that it was important that our clothes did not get dirty, so we got some other clothes to wear (they did not get dirty at all, as Pauline did everything that could make you dirty)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Idunn crushing white beans (HARD work!)<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhvaikDoUyAWVmU_pl2rOsn6VzappAuat1vb9kzsuyt90kPztP3iPFVIp6TzgBSkcp43MgldAKvWHXrsfXuHCATz0yzDwf0sViFA5A59z1L-5xOe4bL5Y8wQiXjS5-dVSSw7bpAfEVpiPS/s1600-h/P1180005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhvaikDoUyAWVmU_pl2rOsn6VzappAuat1vb9kzsuyt90kPztP3iPFVIp6TzgBSkcp43MgldAKvWHXrsfXuHCATz0yzDwf0sViFA5A59z1L-5xOe4bL5Y8wQiXjS5-dVSSw7bpAfEVpiPS/s320/P1180005.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It is not only in the working hours new things happen; I am proud to tell you that today I am going to have my first practice with the girls' volleyball team at Collège Protestante. If things do not turn out too bad, maybe I will write an update about that later... <br />
</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-85081515588612476342010-01-12T16:47:00.000+01:002010-01-12T16:47:07.433+01:00LitterNgaoundéré is a clean town, compared to many other places in Africa. You can see rubbish in the streets and ditches, but there is a renovation company that continually cleans the town. The Norwegian camp is tidy too - the maids have one place they always empty our litter bins.<br />
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That place happens to be quite near our house, and so I become aware of the fact that throwing my trash in the bin does not make it go away. It is just moved somewhere else, so that my house is clean. But the more I use, the fuller that garbage hole grows. Is that the way it should be? Which right do I have to buy, spend and throw away so much that Mother Earth is afflicted?<br />
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Ashamed of being one of the Earth's spoiled litterers, who buys things I could manage without quite problemfree, I decide to try my best to think critically about what I buy and how it is packed.<br />
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I am troubled by the fact that I actually am in a position to choose whether I buy environment friendly packed food and other stuff - useful or not. Every afternoon, as they finish school, three or four boys on their way home stop by that rubbish hole. As I sit in my comfortable chair, listening to beautiful music on my Mac or iPod in my clean apartment, they are digging in my dirt. I bet they do not think about whether my litter will vanish in one year or a hundred, or if it will let out poisonous gasses. They jump into the hole with their clean school uniforms, hoping that they will find something of value. Some valuable leftovers from one of the World's fortunate litterers...Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-70414920674222439252010-01-06T14:42:00.002+01:002010-01-06T14:48:41.498+01:00HolidaysChristmas came right after Infield Course in Kenya, and surprisingly enough the homesickness was not too grave. With Idunn's family and my dear Magnus visiting, we made Christmas cookies and decorated our appartement with snow-crystals on the window, candles in red and green, and even a homemade Christmas cradle.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On Christmas Eve we had a Norwegian service in a little church outside of town. In my Norwegian eyes, it actually quite much resembled a stable more than a church. In addition to this, a little local boy wandered in during the sermon, whose name coincidentally (?) meant <i>God has come to save... </i><br />
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</i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoPPWS5ujQ1uolLrLkVego5mMnVlhKQt3K3fabD4nuubiIIBVdenjO1QwmNa22az8KiVUf8BTlO73IbGSVJHCTdGIxXvZlVCkrGvdL_mO8wyxvo3WFwTEsmN1Ls94-ZnQ2GVqAS4NRuLfV/s1600-h/DSC_5891.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoPPWS5ujQ1uolLrLkVego5mMnVlhKQt3K3fabD4nuubiIIBVdenjO1QwmNa22az8KiVUf8BTlO73IbGSVJHCTdGIxXvZlVCkrGvdL_mO8wyxvo3WFwTEsmN1Ls94-ZnQ2GVqAS4NRuLfV/s320/DSC_5891.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><i> Picture: Magnus Hagland</i><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After the celebration of Christmas, we headed South for the beaches. The journey was long (three long days of driving) and the roads bumpy (picture the bumpiest road you have ever seen in Norway. Even now you are nowhere near imagining the main road that connects North and South in this country).<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><i> Picture: Magnus Hagland</i><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Nevertheless, the beaches of Kribi was worhwhile the shaky trip. Most of the days were spent on the beach with books, volley ball, swimming and playing in the water (which I must say, is not the worst way to spend the Christmas holidays). Pirogue trip up the Lobé river and loads of delicious seafood were other ingredients.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i> </i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjFHztonRWPbtZ7FnPymWIFT3eH5zAVf30iRBvDmzHxqbK45N5ZwUo-Mgzo0Ms4otxQ7DW30Q74CNaB_zvdWBS7wVqOgFA-CBH6KdeJ8w3-2vZ9wNfBai4HuhNfsacoBRFis0o_fnG7Lt/s1600-h/PC300003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjFHztonRWPbtZ7FnPymWIFT3eH5zAVf30iRBvDmzHxqbK45N5ZwUo-Mgzo0Ms4otxQ7DW30Q74CNaB_zvdWBS7wVqOgFA-CBH6KdeJ8w3-2vZ9wNfBai4HuhNfsacoBRFis0o_fnG7Lt/s320/PC300003.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Back in Ngaoundéré, I still have some days left with my fabulous visitor before the everyday life sets in again. The recreation has been very good, and now I am ready to start off. I really look forward to spend three more months here in "Miniature Africa"!<br />
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</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-70019297026370813322009-12-25T17:01:00.001+01:002009-12-25T17:01:47.425+01:00Joyeux Noël!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzhqqDKFZQnjqxumbjtbS4VQIQEux45Auh3WRaa-7BXKyjH05u18fbqAI9R7mxhYIQW8ASCAoYxJ5lmfHKWa2Wut_E4GzwQL4TN0MkURwXtg049bVKge5OaBMahs9wkFiEiyOZjCatP1LA/s1600-h/PC240008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzhqqDKFZQnjqxumbjtbS4VQIQEux45Auh3WRaa-7BXKyjH05u18fbqAI9R7mxhYIQW8ASCAoYxJ5lmfHKWa2Wut_E4GzwQL4TN0MkURwXtg049bVKge5OaBMahs9wkFiEiyOZjCatP1LA/s320/PC240008.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.</i><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">-Isaiah 9,6-<i> </i> <br />
</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-43925922415950111672009-12-18T14:37:00.001+01:002009-12-25T16:53:43.608+01:00Infield Course in Kenya<i>Wow! Ngaoundéré is not really a big town! </i>Coming to Douala (the largest city in Cameroon) was one thing; a place where they had at least three different brands of bottled water, a big variety of spreads and cheeses and even freshly baked pizza in ONE place. <br />
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No matter how big Douala seemed, there are no words that could express my amazement over Nairobi at our arrival. With big eyes and my mouth wide open, I saw giraffes, streets without potholes, well-organized traffic, wonderful buildings, street signs and no dirty ditches when we drove from the airport to the Norwegian school.<br />
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As we were the first ones to arrive, Idunn and I spent a relaxing Sunday at the Norwegian school, before our teachers and fellow students who are in Kenya, Uganda and Madagascar came. It was a happy reunion, with lots of laughter and experiences to share.<br />
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During the Infield Course, we have had teaching, counselling, safari, time to talk, laugh, play and relax. Apart from this, we spent Tuesday in the slums, which was a very special experience. On one side, Nairobi is so developed and organized, a town greater than anything I have seen in Norway. Still more than half of the city's population does not have the opportunity to appreciate this, or even get to see it. More than half of Nairobi's population live in slums, in extreme poverty.<br />
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First we visited the slum of Mathare and saw the project that the Kenya team from Hald has been working in for almost three months now. After this we drove to Kibera, Kenya's biggest slum, to get introduced to the <a href="http://www.churcharmyafrica.net/">Church Army's</a> project there. I am really impressed by the work of the churches there. They really live out God's Word by feeding the poor, sharing the Gospel, loving the loveless, caring for the sick and helping people to get an education and possibilities to get a better life. The churches in Norway really have something to learn about being a holistic church and reaching out to those who need it! If they can in one of the poorest places in the world, how much more should not we be able to make a difference in our society?<br />
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Returning to the richest area of Nairobi (where the Norwegian School is situated) was hard for me. The contrasts are so vast, and it felt terrible to just leave the people like that. I am grateful to have everything I need, but the fact that I have so much more tears me apart.<br />
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Nevertheless, this is an experience I highly recommend to everyone. Feeling the unjustice of the world so closely changes something in you, and that change is something everyone in the rich parts of the world should go through. Finding words that could describe is too difficult, it has to be seen, smelled, touched and felt.Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-58584836655547623012009-12-06T09:11:00.001+01:002009-12-06T09:12:34.682+01:00Safari, Sunscreen and SuperMariusYesterday we went to the Buffle Noir national park and had a wonderful day on safari. Since it is the beginning of the season, most of the animals had not come yet, but we got to see monkeys, different kinds of antelopes, birds, hippopotami and even some crocodiles. Andreas the Missionary, Ole Henrik the NMS Photographer and our guide also saw a leopard...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcWGcJxEkRAMh0wsimGqNnXWD4rqt5zqsm2mE_68YHEp37j0RLeQs75wp8Ppom3iVhNSDtnZtc2IMX_4gCWo_JBgrppkjrK306Cqw3rLAKPrVtkLpZQARvKiWn7jcQQZWLlBSwl_Nt0Ju8/s1600-h/PC050059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcWGcJxEkRAMh0wsimGqNnXWD4rqt5zqsm2mE_68YHEp37j0RLeQs75wp8Ppom3iVhNSDtnZtc2IMX_4gCWo_JBgrppkjrK306Cqw3rLAKPrVtkLpZQARvKiWn7jcQQZWLlBSwl_Nt0Ju8/s320/PC050059.jpg" /></a><br />
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Even though Idunn, Marius the Gap Student and I missed the extraordinary sight of the leopard, the trip was terrific. We spent most of our time standing on the back of the car with a slight taste of sunscreen in our mouths (due to my brilliant idea of also protecting the lips against the sun). As there were a lot of high grass and branches that could hit us as we passed them, Marius enjoyed his role as our personal Super Hero in order to save us girls from their hits.<br />
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After a warm meal at the camp site, I got to drive home from our refreshing Saturday in Buffle Noir.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0IJcmiYgaHiAI3Nms7oN_VWR9g5MEjNszdeSDZsB9NcgxQ5vqcmLiHMtGf5m1rXUP7sps9s-68Lx4xQQLLUkZ9tFaVm_VfB53TBVFk5DgkVHLu1Vde_LCEmJfWGbO8xjCSm325GCCvuoT/s1600-h/PC050106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0IJcmiYgaHiAI3Nms7oN_VWR9g5MEjNszdeSDZsB9NcgxQ5vqcmLiHMtGf5m1rXUP7sps9s-68Lx4xQQLLUkZ9tFaVm_VfB53TBVFk5DgkVHLu1Vde_LCEmJfWGbO8xjCSm325GCCvuoT/s320/PC050106.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">(Maybe more animal pictures will come later. Ole Henrik the NMS Photographer promised to give us his photos) <br />
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</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-32633619064250632009-12-03T12:25:00.002+01:002009-12-03T12:37:22.782+01:00Two months already?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here comes a short summary:<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIAaSjre73zJlrj6TNoCiK5ADn6deAnONMaLUzmj3Kvhpr0lc6liaceoeOFag0K02dfNjf6mKLL91FYP73hRs5ubnIFv44fvSH-7PawzxyQuvc3FfChS9PgTqKjEgf2PiC_SNk-EwOc1J/s1600-h/PA020027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIAaSjre73zJlrj6TNoCiK5ADn6deAnONMaLUzmj3Kvhpr0lc6liaceoeOFag0K02dfNjf6mKLL91FYP73hRs5ubnIFv44fvSH-7PawzxyQuvc3FfChS9PgTqKjEgf2PiC_SNk-EwOc1J/s320/PA020027.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As soon as we set our feet on Cameroonian ground, we learned that things do not always turn out the way you expected; try to be flexible, relax and meet the world with a smile!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05ggBesQTJbpmRvNKm5W1hAlea1JIFuI4kOKm6iRQqhG9a1mOCH1N4NBbn5aKtMtDxOg4Doq6cEamz62L57KN_UZ8YO8BKGy27tJLeVc06BzjgiI8sWsdLGO_5IAq1hMvMCTcg2EwcF2D/s1600-h/PA030100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj05ggBesQTJbpmRvNKm5W1hAlea1JIFuI4kOKm6iRQqhG9a1mOCH1N4NBbn5aKtMtDxOg4Doq6cEamz62L57KN_UZ8YO8BKGy27tJLeVc06BzjgiI8sWsdLGO_5IAq1hMvMCTcg2EwcF2D/s320/PA030100.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After having left the rainforest in the South, we were ready to settle in Ngaoundéré, which is to be found in the more dusty and dry highlands of the North (that actually is in the middle of the country. The <i>real </i>North is called The Extreme North).<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEoSzn2FQcFUtwOCLz2PNiMSWO2YOUzc_5REJ0MEGZWpsZU2Njb76vCVr6uzGaaqJ_LZdSdKeu79GEGy5jwoDVPB9A9halx2FG6By7jlz3FwvCaGsir4ZpdEOSgVfXLHS0seWLupb66snk/s1600-h/PA310027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEoSzn2FQcFUtwOCLz2PNiMSWO2YOUzc_5REJ0MEGZWpsZU2Njb76vCVr6uzGaaqJ_LZdSdKeu79GEGy5jwoDVPB9A9halx2FG6By7jlz3FwvCaGsir4ZpdEOSgVfXLHS0seWLupb66snk/s320/PA310027.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Apart from work, our life have consisted of choir rehearsals and concerts,<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2nKUkfrH01iwpKOhCRuXaZ9Al2nH452rEmKlwEYo_deCZyWbZ0UeJEUBXceg0B81rtnv7VV_SsR67ocqb0Nb2yQaigAFwFJZfMFo0qMKdH-AboKAXmnfQSs2kkBA9I5QOYOpZZdxwrq9C/s1600-h/PA310028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2nKUkfrH01iwpKOhCRuXaZ9Al2nH452rEmKlwEYo_deCZyWbZ0UeJEUBXceg0B81rtnv7VV_SsR67ocqb0Nb2yQaigAFwFJZfMFo0qMKdH-AboKAXmnfQSs2kkBA9I5QOYOpZZdxwrq9C/s320/PA310028.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Learning French and trying to keep up with what is happening around us,<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX76Qr5i70TXrMpu12b9KW49v-KDpaTZf3jLHDAHABf3ZT86n-pH7MMYJdffUs2JkDaTgEYrHrCvndd8-cSpKfOceazkViINv38Jj1nWt8Ea1S-Tf8OLjnLZup7qpsx8Vgoe8AEdDtK2cH/s1600-h/PB180003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX76Qr5i70TXrMpu12b9KW49v-KDpaTZf3jLHDAHABf3ZT86n-pH7MMYJdffUs2JkDaTgEYrHrCvndd8-cSpKfOceazkViINv38Jj1nWt8Ea1S-Tf8OLjnLZup7qpsx8Vgoe8AEdDtK2cH/s320/PB180003.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Talior visits,<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIB11PvozOveBdZ71GJaIZvHZr1MNkG671dxiAloAXIKgS8s8Vlm6p7joX4eKqiFIFQ6pAqdOQ9uSZQweQdjIxH_JACWGjDchyphenhyphen5li8NNqFSvOmGVQ0tn37DhlMslbVTa_WPpkvTAFuFa7g/s1600-h/PB210014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIB11PvozOveBdZ71GJaIZvHZr1MNkG671dxiAloAXIKgS8s8Vlm6p7joX4eKqiFIFQ6pAqdOQ9uSZQweQdjIxH_JACWGjDchyphenhyphen5li8NNqFSvOmGVQ0tn37DhlMslbVTa_WPpkvTAFuFa7g/s320/PB210014.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Retrait Spirituelle</i>, a day with seminars for the young girls in Church,<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxu-kI4kl3t_VkKGiMOmQsRSAVA8QlUWXxSfCz6yPqBDhHUAMNnn5RcIK5Je9ipK9k-wENyXSzxpknW8X4OUAIsnquCiI0Cil6hJld8vDxyNeM-8oOW6zlBPbLAKaLiL17adGryinr9A68/s1600-h/PB230031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxu-kI4kl3t_VkKGiMOmQsRSAVA8QlUWXxSfCz6yPqBDhHUAMNnn5RcIK5Je9ipK9k-wENyXSzxpknW8X4OUAIsnquCiI0Cil6hJld8vDxyNeM-8oOW6zlBPbLAKaLiL17adGryinr9A68/s320/PB230031.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Learning to cook Cameroonian food,<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzpyjoWMc3TpJFEeHPCmdyz2LNtihAJmmA1Tgi7d-NAffEZUdPFQMjVlgUYaq5glJGJqDp4tPQSIwRiqTXulC5BiZGV7y2_NyScTm-gPe3gpteqkGf175Ot_tqX-76qvWqTnHIcHbZsHCa/s1600-h/PB240100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzpyjoWMc3TpJFEeHPCmdyz2LNtihAJmmA1Tgi7d-NAffEZUdPFQMjVlgUYaq5glJGJqDp4tPQSIwRiqTXulC5BiZGV7y2_NyScTm-gPe3gpteqkGf175Ot_tqX-76qvWqTnHIcHbZsHCa/s320/PB240100.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Afternoon escapes in fresh air,<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKLnCKrf9WDXseqbO27pG8fXm3GJxxKU0Yu7ZidCvL9SuHU40qwxdLo0xadtR0NJNUOnsSs7gkFiW3Yf_vWT2XWBYXv8fgDd1pmjnqtRgeeKkT1yiQCB8C-COADJWGk_BsaHT8vl8zmYb/s1600-h/PB250125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirKLnCKrf9WDXseqbO27pG8fXm3GJxxKU0Yu7ZidCvL9SuHU40qwxdLo0xadtR0NJNUOnsSs7gkFiW3Yf_vWT2XWBYXv8fgDd1pmjnqtRgeeKkT1yiQCB8C-COADJWGk_BsaHT8vl8zmYb/s320/PB250125.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIlpJnb4-B4c_3EFTtfgFYRib7ZCBWOgYImcSAKr4O6hStDEu6o4kUvWgcI014Uf9xXk45cVjnkajeXlgwSjHX_OksuXaWSCfJ6HBuZC0NmA7gk7tHNp0_e2UtQnJuPZ6PsLpIiH3FRje/s1600-h/PB250132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIlpJnb4-B4c_3EFTtfgFYRib7ZCBWOgYImcSAKr4O6hStDEu6o4kUvWgcI014Uf9xXk45cVjnkajeXlgwSjHX_OksuXaWSCfJ6HBuZC0NmA7gk7tHNp0_e2UtQnJuPZ6PsLpIiH3FRje/s320/PB250132.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Misjonstivoli </i>arranged by the Norwegian kids; fund-raising to the church's AIDS-project,<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_JNq4kKlxVVZDheWg7t1q6tvLMhD9kESiDt-w9qxvDMoSfhPHZ-TrWm4dN2x8mmDorzt-L01jKBtV-VLaJTNXtc8HyZ3ywqirfdLndyrolI81wtFrNmwAVJ7f_FB2zOCJ7ByXnTv5kI-/s1600-h/PB190049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-_JNq4kKlxVVZDheWg7t1q6tvLMhD9kESiDt-w9qxvDMoSfhPHZ-TrWm4dN2x8mmDorzt-L01jKBtV-VLaJTNXtc8HyZ3ywqirfdLndyrolI81wtFrNmwAVJ7f_FB2zOCJ7ByXnTv5kI-/s320/PB190049.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> Getting to know people,<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXiFEJcYvIPZfl4gab5A7D5gvaPy5AlL7arSvEhEf_axr7tccltUiQ94gjZBAUAqL7MXD_gWift-DYAgtWk6_Et9oI2QksYPl4mtz7YtMT7oGsJ7ZR2hGTfL9HorkLQrpoQmVmOopWoUL/s1600-h/PB210019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXiFEJcYvIPZfl4gab5A7D5gvaPy5AlL7arSvEhEf_axr7tccltUiQ94gjZBAUAqL7MXD_gWift-DYAgtWk6_Et9oI2QksYPl4mtz7YtMT7oGsJ7ZR2hGTfL9HorkLQrpoQmVmOopWoUL/s320/PB210019.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And these days we are quite busy with our culture-assignment; I learn a lot and write about girls in Ngaoundéré. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Only one week left at work now, before we are heading for infield course in Kenya, followed by Christmas holidays. Funny that we have come to Christmas already... When I start working after the holidays, we are more than halfway!<br />
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</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-62252859309368802032009-11-27T16:00:00.002+01:002009-11-27T16:02:58.091+01:00Mount NgaoundéréToday the Muslims have their <i>Fête du Mouton, </i>or the <i>Eid-al-Adha</i>, as it is also called. It is a national holiday, and all the students are free. Ergo no one to teach.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">Idunn, Andreas the volunteer, Marius the gap worker, Lena the missionary and I spent our day off exploring Mount Ngaoundéré. In the middle of a stressful week, it was nice with some fresh air for both mind and body. With Marius' "whole grain"-rolls, Andreas' jam and chocolate spread and Lena's frozen Tampicos (juice in small plastic bags that we Norwegians freeze to get <i>saftis</i>), we had a really nice picnic in the sun.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiGMvbj-NR5KnRNQlifLsPONWqLsQSAPlm2_qXys-kbz6aNgRJneK1neFdyrx6Bm8dnrJzt3ZxJSQQNJFj5riMa7iPJArFF-LObb73D6-YSAYWNG2ZXKE27cIw4wRxZOWsSdlhix4pqdY7/s1600/PB270003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiGMvbj-NR5KnRNQlifLsPONWqLsQSAPlm2_qXys-kbz6aNgRJneK1neFdyrx6Bm8dnrJzt3ZxJSQQNJFj5riMa7iPJArFF-LObb73D6-YSAYWNG2ZXKE27cIw4wRxZOWsSdlhix4pqdY7/s320/PB270003.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mount Ngaoundéré to the left <br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwsF1p5-AeEqF_-gFIfDpRvaLGiRPFeQxPA7dzEgO-fVwqtScIZzHKwAKjXbdni8tR4nPQkWTs-sbQ8Ffi0FAIo3mfueE2obSybQAeGnicUUlDgyrXb8zJlE_Ci-tgJOOZFYd8IEq5Mj_I/s1600/PB270014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwsF1p5-AeEqF_-gFIfDpRvaLGiRPFeQxPA7dzEgO-fVwqtScIZzHKwAKjXbdni8tR4nPQkWTs-sbQ8Ffi0FAIo3mfueE2obSybQAeGnicUUlDgyrXb8zJlE_Ci-tgJOOZFYd8IEq5Mj_I/s320/PB270014.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDa1bWIA9uTOu_NmTCmeYdo9mMsSPuzPmeTxUo6zcDid8Q3NFx_aaMfqFndGxZP0Qa8IohRGymegEAJq64IdNCH6Vttyz2DafTndDbVLufYrcVtZcLXcLkqRSZaLIJWWedggH9TiQhDwH/s1600/PB270027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDa1bWIA9uTOu_NmTCmeYdo9mMsSPuzPmeTxUo6zcDid8Q3NFx_aaMfqFndGxZP0Qa8IohRGymegEAJq64IdNCH6Vttyz2DafTndDbVLufYrcVtZcLXcLkqRSZaLIJWWedggH9TiQhDwH/s320/PB270027.jpg" /></a><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikW-O2W8tUSnyEgBSTi7F71Hjv9UB5d5vVArxYhyphenhyphenNNPVuNXqmJsRbsO28O6zKiGMb3YdIqhjXp6eem-GwwB4edZocHdCwD6bt2z1zaM-H5GwQKpii4MiNq8xQLbikbHDZL5AzOD-rFjVDJ/s1600/PB270026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikW-O2W8tUSnyEgBSTi7F71Hjv9UB5d5vVArxYhyphenhyphenNNPVuNXqmJsRbsO28O6zKiGMb3YdIqhjXp6eem-GwwB4edZocHdCwD6bt2z1zaM-H5GwQKpii4MiNq8xQLbikbHDZL5AzOD-rFjVDJ/s320/PB270026.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">(Some children we met on the top)<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ps. Happy birthday, pappa!<br />
</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-11187136027350708342009-11-25T12:53:00.005+01:002009-11-25T20:54:13.106+01:00CAPS LOCKTeaching can be hard. Teaching Computer Skills when I do not have them myself is even harder. Teaching Computer Skills when I do not have them myself, in French - you get the picture.<br />
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Before I turn all dramatic, I must admit that I do know a little bit about writing a simple document in Word. So that is what I teach. I do know what happens when I press the <i>Caps Lock </i>button. The girls I teach, do not. And I explain. I explain again. And again. Five minutes after I think the explanation was successful (after all, she did say yes every time I asked if she understood), the same mysterious thing happens with her computer again; all the letters come out capitals!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Communication is a curious thing, especially when I am in a position where I probably see the world in a totally different way than all the girls I teach. When I think I have made myself so clear (both because I have repeated myself five times and they nod and say <i>je comprends</i> (I understand) no matter what I say), I actually have no clue if they still are following me.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My mind is triggered to think in new directions; to find the fine line between how I think I would best learn Computer Skills or English and teaching in a way they are used to learning. No matter how good I think Norwegian teaching strategies could be, they do not help if my Cameroonian friends not are accustomed to them and therefore gain nothing from my teaching. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It all boils down to the term <i>cultural sensitivity</i>: Before imposing on my host people all my fine ideas on teaching and everything else, I need to take the time to learn how things work here. I want to learn to see the world through Cameroonian eyes. Hopefully then I will understand...<br />
</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-26224760989232896522009-11-19T15:34:00.002+01:002009-11-19T16:02:09.821+01:00All I Have to OfferI am no expert on computers, but what obstacle is that when an Informatics teacher is needed? I do not know the Bible by heart, but why should that stop me from correcting Bible courses?* I do not know much <i>fulfulde, </i>but since when was that a reason not to "converse"?<br />
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Finding myself in situations where I do things I think are beyond my capabilities is funny. I learn to make the best use of what you have. If you have a small amount of something, you use that<i> something</i>, you share it. Many people having a small amount of knowledge, money or food is better than someone having "a lot" and the lot being at a lack of almost everything, <i>n'est-ce pas </i>(don't you think)<i>?</i><br />
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*Do not worry, I had the solution at hand :)Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-53604913303758684532009-11-17T22:01:00.000+01:002009-11-17T22:01:43.541+01:00It is ColdWaking up with a sore throat. Running nose. People outside wearing thick winter coats. Shivering Norwegians. Putting on a warm sweater. Woollen socks. Dreaming of a blanket to wrap myself up in.<br />
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Yes, I am still in Cameroon. Yes, it is cold. Not all the time. As the dry season is arriving (almost a month too late), it gets hotter during the days, but at night and in the mornings, my boyfriend's woolen slippers from Mongolia are often to be found on my feet.<br />
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</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-54488237121199709692009-11-12T19:20:00.001+01:002009-11-12T19:22:34.879+01:00La Blanche en PagneThis afternoon Idunn and I found out that it was high time for us to explore the <i>Petit Marché </i>("the Little Market", which actually is bigger than the <i>Grand Marché</i>). We grabbed the opportunity as Andreas the volunteer and Marius the gap student (I finally have learned the English word for <i>ettåring - </i>thanks, Sophie!) were going to the gym in town, and set out for the market on our own.<br />
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Quite impressed by our orientation skills, we found our way through narrow alleys, the overwhelming odours from the meat area, people constantly shouting <i>nasara </i>(white), "You are SO beautiful", "come here, my queen", <i>"la blanche en pagne</i> (the white in <i>pagne</i>, that is the typical African women's outfit), you look so nice", and so on and so forth, and tons of different fabrics (i.e. the <i>pagnes</i>).<br />
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</div>Satisfied after buying ourselves some fabric for future dresses, we walked up to the gym, trying to be nice to the boys so that they did not have to drive back to the market for us. However, it turned out that they were being nice as well and had driven down to the market. We did not hear that they called us, and I had of course told them that we would answer the phone as long as we had not been robbed, so we kind of stressed them up... Luckily we found each other and everything went okay at the end. Back in our appartment we finished the successful afternoon at the market with <i>coucous, </i>our new favourite food. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our future dresses <br />
</div>Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6916993842344608848.post-39992249302808026682009-11-12T14:00:00.003+01:002009-11-12T18:52:39.686+01:00The OfficeLast Thursday was cleaning day at the office. Today after the daily devotion, the whole central direction of EELC (that is the people I work with at the office, sort of including me at the time being) went out into one of the <i>quartiers</i>, to the home of one of the office workers to pay our respects. Her uncle had just passed away. The term "office work" keeps getting new meanings as I work there...<br />
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It was something nice about it, paying respects to this employee's family. You don't see that as a normal thing for a group of colleagues to do in Norway when someone is dead. At least, I don't. Here they did it as the most natural thing to do. We went over and the president of the church said some words, the uncle's older brother said a few words in <i>fulfulde, </i>we prayed and sang some songs, before we had some soda and went back to work. Nothing odd about it. Death is also a part of life, and I found this a fine way to embrace it. Natural, relaxed and at the same time very respectful.Pernille og Magnushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236840351180912619noreply@blogger.com1