[#40]  10 March 1996
Dear Everyone:
     It has been a quiet week in Buea, and I now know why
Garrison Keillor starts his monologues similarly.  I have plenty
to say, but little of it is directly related to last week.  We
received letters from Jane Johnson, Talia, and Margaret, and we
inquired at the post office about the slowness of packages. The
post office recommended sending us photocopies of the receipts
which he could use to initiate traces.  In the future, as a
matter of course, anyone sending us packages should send us
photocopies of the receipts.  Also, again I should say that the
diplomatic pouch is no longer available to us, and it will cost
us a lot of money to retrieve packages sent us that way.  The
phrase 'diplomatic pouch' conjures up images of couriers
handcuffed to briefcases, but I am sure it is a metaphor, given
the size of some of the packages we have received via that route.
     In anticipation of Talia's weeklong visit, which begins a
week from Monday, we arranged for transportation by the
University to and from the airport in Douala, which will save us
time and money, and will postpone Talia's first bush-taxi
experience.  We have no specific plans for her visit, preferring
to offer a number of options.
     Quite a while ago, EECS secretary Maggie Dee asked what
faculty at the U of B are like, and I finally have room to start
to respond by describing the vice-dean Ntoko and math department
member Kwalar. Dr. Ntoko's most notable characteristic is his
(extremely foolish consistency in his) following the rules.  I
believe he is the main architect of the rococo rules for
assigning grades. Dr. Ntoko had decided that the student who
applied for a change in major from math to chem but never changed
courses because of a change of heart should lose all equity in
the semester because he was now a chem major.  The Science
Faculty overruled Dr. Ntoko, noting that the letter granting the
student's request said he was 'permitted' (rather than
'required') to change major. A few weeks ago, Dr. Ntoko outdid
himself when he sent a student to me for my signature to add my
course. The student actually wanted to drop the course but had
originally added it without the proper signature.  Now Dr. Ntoko
would not let him drop it until it had been added properly.
     Dr. Kwalar is in his late 50's, and 'old hand' in the Math
Dept,a nd is extremely well-educated, having obtained his PhD at
Moscow U, and then having held some Post Docs in Germany and
England. He comes from the 'you can't learn math without hard
work' school, an establishment I also attended.  He has a
reputation for requiring a great deal from his students but being
miserly with passing grades.  At a department colloquium on
instruction of mathematics, he gave an eloquent speech on the
difficulties of learning math and the benefit of hard work in
overcoming these difficulties, at the end of which his victims
cheered and clapped.
     A few weeks ago, we had the opportunity to see some
traditional wrestling, a 'quadrangular' among four villages. The
'ring' is a grass field, about 1/3 the size of a football field,
which has been mercifully cleared of stones.  A match between two
villages starts with all the contestants meeting in the middle of
the field, making stylized gestures of threat, and forming
pairings, by weight, for the match.  The lighter contestants
tended to be younger, with the ages starting around 10 and ending
with grizzled veterans of indeterminate age.  A contestant wins a
bout by throwing his opponent on his back or 'taking him down'
and then  either rolling him on his back or forcing him flat on
his stomach.  Each bout has two referees plus a number of judges
on the sidelines. To set the atmosphere drummers on an elevated
stand beat intricate rhythms on large log drums throughout the
match. The contestants wore a variety of clothes, except that the
traditional wrapper (a colorful sarong wrapped around the waist)
was obligatory.  Once a bout began, I was transported to Grace
Hall, both because of the noise and because the offensive and
defensive moves were the same, although less well practiced.  One
feature absent from Grace Hall are cheerleaders, in the form of
older women of the village who do exuberant victory dances when
their village wins a bout.
     It is time to conclude.
          Edwin

                                             #41.5  17 Mar 96
Dear Everyone:
     When I wrote last week everything seemed routine except for
Talia's impending visit tomorrow.  Then very early Friday
morning, while we were asleep our home was burgled.  Janice may
have scared them off by going to the bathroom, but in any case
our losses were modest in monetary value but bothersome
nevertheless. We lost our US postage stamps, including, to our
dismay, the plate block of 'comic strip' stamps Gwen sent us; we
lost an iron, an umbrella just as the rainy season is beginning,
a few cheap watches, a few cheap calculators, Janice's
toothpaste, and our shortwave radio.  Strangely, I think the
burglars also took a pocket dictionary.  More important, they
left the duct tape behind.
     From our small sample of crime on our property here (once in
a year) and in Bethlehem (one theft, from our car, in 25 years) I
might conclude there is more crime here, but I think crime is
distributed differently here than in the states.  Because there
is wealth everywhere in the US crime rates are inversely
proportional to the distance from the criminal's home, one reason
why the middle class has fled to the suburbs.  Here, where the US
poverty level of $12,000 per year is 12 times the per capital
income, the only place where theft is profitable is in the high
rent districts, where we live.
     Given that all the windows are barred and all the doors
bolted and made of steel with steel jambs, we thought our house
secure. The louvered windows are the Achilles heel of our
security system.  An individual louver is easily slid out of its
metal frame. Having done this in our kitchen, the adept burglars
apparently used a long pole equipped with a hook to open three
deadbolts in the exterior kitchen door and gain entree into the
house, all this quietly enough so that we did not awaken.  Since
AM Friday we have worried a lot about the security of our
possession and have awakened at the slightest sound, when we have
been able to sleep at all.
     To compound the annoyances in my life, I think I lost my
keys in a taxi on Saturday. This opens a new chapter in the
'office key' saga.  When I last talked about this saga, Prabasaj
and I were using a campus mailbox as a drop, a system that
continued until Saturday, when I lost my key to the box. [He
found his keys. gk]
     While unable to sleep last night I had an insight into the
electricity saga, which has been slowly developing over the
months with our failure to get a bill after it was turned back
on. When I asked Lucas Oben about the absence of a bill, he gave
me vague assurances that it would come. With no great motivation
to receive the bill, I was not put off by the vagueness, but it
occurred to me last night that probably Mr. Oben himself turned
on the electric service by throwing the unguarded switch,
something I was reluctant to do. Or possibly the 'mechanics'
division of the electric company did not tell the 'fiscal'
division the electric is back on. Will we get a free ride? Will
we eventually get a huge bill? Stay tuned.
     Our thanks to the Rosens and Gwen for letters.
     Edwin

                                             [41] 24 Mar 96
Dear Everyone:
     With Talia arriving this past Monday we have had quite a
busy week The Sabena fight was a few minutes early at 6:08 and we
were back to our house by 8:30.  At Talia's urging, we
immediately attacked her suitcase, which was dedicated to goodies
for us for our personal use or for distributions to Cameroonians. 
We thank: 1) my mother for garden seeds and for various highly
useful kitchen gadgets; 2) Gwen, Carolyn and Talia for a
smorgasboard of candy unavailable here and unseen by us for 9
months and which we will hoard for quite a while; 3) Ellie for a
collection of magazines; 4) Carolyn for costume jewely and a
large collection of children's books; and 5) Gwen for the
cookbooks and the nutrition almanac. There was more stuff, and we
treasure it all.
     Much of Talia's time here exposed her to our routine life in
Cameroon, with a few trips to touristie sites (as they are called
here) that are not especially touristy.  I worried that Talia was
finding it boring, but apparently Africa, or at least Cameroon,
is sufficiently exotic that what has become routine for us was
quite exciting for Talia.  On Thursday, Janice and Talia joined
Ann Loux in an excursion to Douala.  That evenign we were visited
by the Peace Corps Medical Officer who took us, Prabasaj, and a
visiting PCV from our state to supper at the Pavilion, my first
meal at OIC's restaurant.  Janice was somewhat flustered to see
the announcement of her official appointment as assistant
manager, which had been posted a few hours before. (I know that
my description of Janice's position at the Cameroon Opportunities
Industrialization Center (OIC) have been vague and confusing, but
that only reflects a vague and confusing situation.  I expect
that by the time we leave the situation will be sufficiently
clear for me to write clearly about it.)  The early part of
Friday we spent at OIC where Janice demonstrated the fine art of
makng pizza in the "junion" kitchen, where the students train. 
Afterward the 20 or so students and staff experineced their first
pizza party.  Later in the afternoon we taxied to Kumba to spend
the night.  The next day we visited Lake Barumbi, a volcanic lake
at the outskirts of town.  Our visit to the Lake was marred by a
contractual dispute iwth the pirogue paddlers, a dispute which
bothered Talia because it was disputatious and which I prolonged,
because the Cameroonians violated the rules of Cameroonian
negotiation as I understand them, and I wanted to see how it
owuld play out.
     Today we went to Limbe to visit the zoo and Botanical
Gardens.  Sicne we first visited the zoo in July it has undergone
a 'substantial' improvement, thanks in part, to a PCV, who just
finished his service.  That PCV started a project to create an
educational center at the zoo with some PC-solicited funds which
have yet to arrive, so I am coordinating their expenditure if
they arrive before teh PCV's replacement who is expected to start
this summer.
     We heard from Don & Jean Davis, the Delphs, Steve Krawiec,
Joann Feigl and Cathy Barrett. They asked soem interesting
questions, which I will answer next week.
     Edwin

                                        #44 7 April 1996
Dear Everyone:
     It is holiday time for us (Passover) and for Cameroon
(Easter). Our celebration of Passover has been very low keyed,
and we have taken advantage of the time freed by Friday being a
national holiday and Monday being a secondary-school holiday.
     On Wednesday evening we had a seder for three, Atey
Patricia, an OIC colleague of Janice's, completing the triad. 
['Atey' is, I believe, pidgin for 'Auntie.' gk]  Aside from the
various substitutions for impossible-to-obtain items,e.g. a shank
bone, (but we did have matzo, thanks to Talia), we had a fairly
complete seder, which Atey Patricia graciously claimed to enjoy. 
Towards the end of the evening I patiently explained to her that
we were not Christians, which she vaguely understood Jews to not
be, but somehow this understanding did not include Jews' lack of
belief in Jesus Christ.  I have the impression that Christian
Cameroonians cannot comprehend a religion without a belief in
Christ, although I don't know how their Moslem neighbors fit into
all of this.
     While we were in Kumba with Talia, the PCV there, Terry
Luschen, an astronomy buff, mentioned a lunar eclipse to take
place Thursday evening at midnight.  When Prabasaj and I
independently learned that Friday was a national holiday--no one
explicitly tells you these things; you just learn about them
inadvertently (C'est l'Afrique)--we independently came up with
the idea of ascending Mt Cameroon Thursday evening for a better
view of the eclipse. I commented that "great minds run in the
same circles," and he mildly contradicted me by saying, "Fools
seldom differ."  
     Our plan to use the light of the moon to illuminate the
fairly rugged trail was foiled by a thunderstorm that ended a few
minutes before our 7:30 departure.  We took a somewhat circuitous
route at the beginning to avoid the Mountain Gendarmes who
enforce a rule that we pay $14/day per person fee to the tourism
office, which in turn pays a guide $4/day to lead people up a
trail impossible to miss, even in the dark.  Soon after we
started we found that we had modest visibility, perhaps because
of light from Buea reflecting off the clouds, perhaps because of
dark adaptation on our part, perhaps because of indirect
moonlight through a thin cloud cover.  As we reached Hut 1, 1/2
of the way up, we changed our plans to reach the summit by
sunrise, when we expected it to be exceptionally clear, because
Janice was feeling nauseated--I guess because she lacked a stable
visual image to coordinate with the jiggling of her middle ear, a
version of sea-sickness.  We decided to stay over at Hut 1, and
await the eclipse, which promised to be spectacular, because the
storm cleared out completely as midnight approached.  But then we
saw no eclipse.  Did Terry have the date wrong? Was the time EST
not GMT? We don't know.
     The next morning we went another 2km up the mountain to
leave the rain forest and enter the savannah, where we spent
about an hour feasting our eyes on a forty-mile view.  We then
descended.  Of course on the way down, we few people we
encountered were acquaintances--Torste, who is a German volunteer
at OIC, and his wife Ziggy, and Wuna Ivan.  Wuna Ivan is married
to Amelia, a fruit vendor with whom we have become friendly, and
whose picture I had Steve Krawiec send us.  Right now, Amelia is
not vending fruit because of the birth of her first child six
weeks ago.  She asked Janice to 'name' the child, which
apparently involves giving her her Christian name and
participating in her christening.  So far, Janice has met the
first obligation by naming the child Allison.
     Ivan makes his living by selling butterflies, snakes and
lizards which he captures on the mountain.  Thus, we saw him on
the job, inspecting his butterfly traps. These are long nylon
mesh cylinders, with bottoms detached and suspended a few inches
below the cylinders, leaving a gap for the butterflies to enter. 
They are attracted by the Guinness-laced banana, upon which they
get drunk and consequently take days to find their way out.
     I am now going to attend a traditional wrestling match in
the neighborhood and get some photos.
          Edwin

PS. We can acknowledge receipt of no letters this week; what a
bummer.

                                             #45  14 April 1996
Dear Everyone:
     As I write, it is the day before the Boston Marathon...At
the moment, being in Boston and running a marathon both seem
quite remote.
     This past week or so, Janice has finally seen her position
at OIC clarify, after the various parties reached a compromise on
satisfying their aims.  OIC wanted someone to take charge of
their hotel and kitchen and apply good old American know-how and
principles to obtain an efficient, well-run, and, above all,
profit-making operation.  Peace Corps wanted to provide help that
would sustain itself after the PCV left and, above all, did not
want to displace a "host-country-nation" (PC talk for "native").
Janice did not want the responsibility of running the whole
operation but wanted an opportunity to adopt American recipes for
foods like pizza and hamburgers to the decidedly different
Cameroonian palate.  Her position as assistant supervisor and
manager is meant to satisfy all these aims.  Her work at OIC
started out as a secondary project, but Janice hopes to abandon
her teaching at GTC, because her responsibilities there are
minimal and because she is dissatisfied with the way GTC is run. 
Then OIC would become her primary project.  Will she then have to
look around for another secondary project?
     Yesterday, Amelia and Ivo, the parents of Janice's god-child
Alison, invited us to a party they were hosting for a high school
friend of Ivo.  Told that it would start at 3, we arrived at (the
reasonable African time of) 4 and eventually learned that all the
other guests had been told to arrive at 6:30.  By the time the
guests started to arrive around 8, Janice was getting tired, so
we had to leave and miss most of the festivities. Because they
were so few people there Ivo had a chance to show off his
collection of insects, consisting mostly of butterflies, plus a
few specimens of a rare beetle about the size of my hand.
     Soon after we settled in here I developed a mild hankering
for toast but knew that an electric toaster would be hard to find
and nearly prohibitive to purchase.  From my youth, I recalled a
device for making toast on top of a gas burner, but the details
of its construction were quite hazy.  Nevertheless, I decided to
try and reinvent this device.  Needing something to serve as a
heat-deflector and something to serve as a rack, I tried to use
the metal bottom of a powdered milk container for the deflector
and chicken wire (a wire mesh used to fence in or about chickens,
rabbits and other small animals) for the rack.  My second
prototype makes quite good toast, although I still have not
figured out how to make the toast pop up when it is done.  The
heat deflector of my prototype is about 6" in diameter, has many
holes punched in it, and rests on the burner.  The rack is an
inverted boxy U-shape, the platform measuring 5"x5", and the
walls on which it stands measuring about 3".  The whole thing
costs me $.60, and I have enough chicken wire left for three more
toasters.
     Edwin
P.S. Having received only 3 letters in 2 weeks, from Gwen, Bill
and Barbara Epstein, we have understanding how the mail works.
                    Where's Gwen this summer?

until May 14: New Haven  (203)777-0733

May 15-June 22: c/o Joelle Davis
               6825-D Brindle Heath Way
               Alexandria VA 22315
               703-924-2634

June 22-July 24: Africa

July 24-Aug 22: back w/Joelle

Aug 23-Aug 25: Bethlehem for Becky's wedding
               Chava Weissler (610)868-6604

Aug 25: back in New Haven (will send out new N.H. address later) 
          

                                             #46  21 April 1996
Dear Everyone:
     As I write this, I realize this is the 46th weekly letter to
you, making it almost a year for us in Cameroon, yet our life is
still not wholly routine, and we still are learning about our
community here.  As in any community, there is a complicated web
of social interactions, and we are slowly unraveling this web. 
Daily, when we walk, people offer rides because we are familiar,
and then they explain how they know us and what role they play in
the community, daily in the taxi other passengers recognize us
and explain in what context they know us or have seen us. Is it
possible that our knowledge of the community will continue to
grow throughout our two years here?
     On Tuesday an American couple arrived for a three week stay
at the university.  From the U of North Carolina, Gary Gaddy will
give lectures in journalism and Sandy Gaddy will give some
lectures in computer science.  To welcome them, Ann Loux had a
dinner, which included us, the American attache who arranged the
visit, and the vice-chancellor (president).  Yesterday, we
contributed to their whirlwind education aobut Cameroon, by
taking (or better, guiding) them to a display of traditional
dancing by representatives of five different tribal groups.  Each
of the five groups had distinctive dances and costumes, yet their
performances and dress were reminiscent of the dancing we
attended at Nganka during our training in Ngoundere.  I am now
fairly sure taht the peculiar mixture of what would seem to
traditional and what is clearly modern is authentic, an
expression of the slow but continuing cultural change here.  The
same male dancer wearing a traditional 'wrapper' (a length of
colorful cloth wrapped around the waist to form an ankle-length
skirt) also wore a t-shirt advertising Sodiko, our favorite
boulangerie in Douala.  From another village the women had on war
paint, but their skirts were fashioned not from grass, as I
assume they were in the past, but from the nylon from shredded
rice bags. While some of hte musical instruments were traditional
log drums, others were fashioned from plastic tubing, available
in the local hardware store.  For me, the msot interesting
performance was that of hte stilt dancers, who pranced around on
legs eight feet long.
     Very early in my time here I noticed that Cameroonians have
much less respect for waiting in line than Americans (who in turn
have less respect for a queue than do Canadians, apparantly). At
a party for host families in Ngoundere I was about fifth in line
at the buffet, but by some mysterious process, I was about 30th
to eat.  After that, I have paid careful attention in every
situation where queues (should) form and saw that Cameroonians
are much more aggressive when exiting or entering rooms, when
boarding or leaving buses, when retrieving exam papers from me,
etc. When I am as aggressive as I would be in the US, I
invariably get what I seek last.  I think that for Americans,
queuing expresses both civility and the egalitarian notion that
everyone should wait his or her turn.
     Months ago I wrote that Cameroon is remarkably free of
racism.  In the sense I meant it then, that white men (as all
whites, male or female, are called here) are dealt with openly,
honestly, and without distrust, Cameroonians are not rascist,
but, in fact, there is a general prejudice that while men are
more intelligent, talented, and powerful, and that Africans are
disorganized and are less well served by their social
institutions. This is expressed in what I call the 'white man's
deference,' where white men get advantages in many situations
merely because they are whtie (except in the market, where the
notion that all whtie men are rich puts them at a disadvantage in
teh ever-present bargaining over price). It could be a good seat
at a play; it could be a position of honor at some social event. 
This, in offending my egalitarian ideas, rankles. 
     I arrived at the bank on Thursday to confront a group of
about 10 customers crowded around the teller's cage, each
demanding service. Bemused by this, to me, improper queuing
behavior, I decided to wait my turn, with my bank book in hand
rather [than] shoved under the teller's nose like everyone
else's. In this case two anti-egalitarian wrongs made a right as
the white man's deference canceled teh improper queuing, and my
turn came at the appropriate time.  Everyone clearly knew when it
was my turn. This reinforces my notion that differences in
societal behavior don't necessarily lead to better or worse
results.
     I've gone on a bit long, so I will end here.
          Edwin

P.S. Thanks for letters form Jean, Stephanie, Margaret, Wrubles,
and Gwen and Bertha.

                                             #47  5 May 1996
Dear Everyone:
     Because this coming week is the last full week of the
semester at the U of B, and because Janice and I are starting to
disengage from our teaching at GTC, the tempo of our lives is
about to change.  We both intended to stop our work at GTC at the
end of this school year, and the year was suddenly truncated when
it was announced that finals would begin this coming Wednesday. 
apparently the classrooms are needs for some other (more
important?) purpose.
     On Thursday we had a visit from a PCV from our stage, Bonnie
Scott, who was traveling with her friends Susan who was on a
business trip to investigate the effectiveness of the grants
given by a small NYC foundation for which she works, Trickle Up.
(Since their grants are for $100, I wonder whether this is a
foundation which is all administration and no donation, but then
$100 goes a long way in this part of the Third World.)  Bonnie,
the quickest and softest spoken PCV of our stage, was strolling
the streets of Limbe with PCV Jon Lorenz during our training
conference in December when a Cameroonian male assaulted them.
The assailant unwisely concentrated his efforts on Jon who
finally had a chance to try to draw the knife he carries with
him.  While the two males struggled, Bonnie, increasing her force
with each blow, struck the Cameroonian male with a very durable
soda bottle until it broke and the Cameroonian fled.  Luckily,
when we had Bonnie and Susan to dinner, Bonnie was in a
friendlier mood.
     I have been waiting until the end of my time at GTC to
assess the Cameroonian education at the secondary level, knowing
hat the assessment would be pessimistic.  However, my assessment
is analogous to judging US education after a stint at Bethlehem
Vo-Tech (no offense to that institution intended) because GTC
serves the same role at Bethlehem Voc-Tech and in much the same
way. The academically weaker students go to GTC and both the
students and the teachers have a low opinion of the students.
Form IV (grade 11) is the last formal schooling the students will
have. The analogy is incomplete because the students do obtain
marketable skills.
     So that my teaching at GTC would most easily mesh with my U
of B schedule, I opted to teach Form II because its maths (as it
is called here) class meets 7:30-9:20 Mondays and Tuesdays.
Because of staff shortages, this meant that two other groups of
students had no maths instruction at all this year.
     My first day at GTC I arrived at 7:15 to give me time to
talk with the people in charge in order to find the location of
my classroom, but there was nobody, at least no adult in charge,
for I was the only adult on campus.  Around 7:30 a student-led
assembly began, and by about 7:50 I started teaching.  This
pattern has continued throughout my time at GTC: I see at most
one or two adults when I arrive at 7:30 and patiently wait for
the students to troop out of the assembly and enter their
classrooms.  At least during the time I am on campus, there are
many fewer teachers than classes and numerous students wandering
around.
     Cameroonian teachers seem to have no respect for the
students, constantly belittling and humiliating them.  They
frequently send fractious students to the discipline master (or
mistress) who usually administer corporal punishment with a green
switch, although I saw one girl getting a free haircut because
her hair was longer than them mandated half-inch.  I and other
PCVs, because we are less prone to use such tactics to maintain
discipline are seen as soft and thus have greater trouble
maintaining discipline.  Further, I came to believe that the
students need to assume greater responsibility for their own
behavior.  This did not make for a quiet classroom.
     I found the Form II students poorly prepared in maths.  I
tried to follow the syllabus for Form II, assuming the students
knew the material in the syllabus for Form I, but this was a
false assumption.  To further muddle the situation, the text
intended for Form II maths, a text that one or two of the
students had, did not agree very well with the syllabus. Finally,
both the syllabus and the text seemed to me to be extremely
ambitious and to be oblivious to some of the basic facts of
cognitive development, especially those that pertain to students
of Form II age.  I tried to salvage what I could from the
situation.  In the process I have actually seen some modest
improvement in the maths skills of a few of the students.  I have
confirmed my suspicion that I am ill-suited to teaching students
at this level, and I have a profoundly increased respect for
teachers of this level of student.
     Teaching at GTC has met my goal of improving my
understanding of the secondary school system here, which in turn
improves my understanding of U of B students.  Apparently
Prabasaj and I are both quite successful because we give the
students much more respect than do the other faculty, and the
students respond eagerly to this treatment, perhaps because they
infrequently encounter it.  The U of B students, however, are
caught off balance by my, extreme by American but normal by
Cameroonian standards, rigidity about missed tests, late papers
and such.  Well, I have started to talk about the university
classroom; I'll save details for a later letter.
     Edwin

***
Gwen's new summer plans (same phone numbers, different dates)
     DC: May 14-July 12
     New Haven: July 12-14
     Africa: July 14-Aug 12
     back in US: Aug 14.
     research at Rutgers, etc. (New Haven phone number will work
in emergency: they will know where I am and how to find me)

                                        [#48]  12 May 1996
Dear Everyone:
     The Cameroonian mail system continues to surprise us. This
week, Gwen's telegram about changes in travel plans took 6 days
to reach our P.O. Box at the same time, a letter I addressed to
the Davises was delivered to me, duly postmarked.  This was quite
magical, because it was a letter which I wanted to substantially
amend after I had put it in the mail.  C'est l'Afrique.
     Today Janice and I took another "trek," this one of about 5
hours and of about 10 miles.  In the past we have always
successfully bushwhacked on these treks but this time we went
deep into the rain forest encountering a few physical and a final
psychological dead end. Wisely we retraced our steps.  We hope
that when Gwen visits she will be interested in joining us in one
or two treks.  They are always informative. Today we explored the
Tole Tea Plantation which occupies a complete mountain valley of
about 3 square miles and includes what is essentially a company
town of about 600 people.  On one promontory we had a broad vista
of Buea and environs in one direction and of Limbe and the Wouri
estuary between Limbe and Douala in the other direction.
     Presently, I have a backlog of 30 topics I want to discuss.
Today I strike albinism from the list.  Both here and in Kumba
(but not in Ngaoundere) we have seen what we think is a quite
high rate of albinism. Albino negroes, lacking pigmentation and
having kinky yellow hair, really stand out, but we are quite sure
that does not mislead us into thinking there are more than there
actually are.  I hope before we leave we know enough about the
culture here so that we understand the cultural role of the
albino.  Right now we do not know if albinos are stigmatized,
though we suspect they are. We have heard, but have not verified,
that they are unable to marry. Otherwise, the two albinos I have
seen on campus and the two albino I see in our neighborhood seem
to have friendly social interaction with their peers. In Kumba it
did seem at least slightly cruel that an albino working at a taxi
park had the nickname white man.
     I finish by thanking Epsteins, Talia, Gwen, Kritzes,
Stanford, and Davises (nice pictures!) for their letters.
     Edwin