Njangi Savings & Loan

We were invited to attend the monthly meeting of a njangi group, taking place on the feast of the Assumption, or "Big Day Maria." I have heard of njangi groups, but really didn't understand them, but now I think I can explain better.

The meeting itself was fun, with plenty of good will, jokes, and encouragement. Those who were celebrated were treated to speeches in their honor, and gave short speeches in return. Our Lamnso' teacher, Mr. Emmanuel Keelen, is a member, and it was good to interact with him on a social level. Our kids played with toys provided by our hosts, Paul and Janet Kee, LOOONG term missionaries and the only non-Cameroonian members of the njangi. Paul would offer running commentary on the whole thing and answer our questions as they came up. It is interesting to see the difference between how he talks to Americans, and how he talks to Cameroonians. He is definitely able to turn on a more West-African accent, saying things slower and pronouncing words the Cameroonian way, using Cameroonian turns of phrase, etc. He's been here longer than I've been alive, so I'll defer to him and assume that's a good way to be understood.

The food was a specialty dish of the Southwest region (we're in the NW, remember) and chicken. It IS a poultry farmers' njangi, after all.  We all ate under cover of the garage as the rain drizzled. Our children stomped in puddles and slipped and made people smile. One of the members had recently been married, and he came with his new bride to the applause and pleasure of the whole group. Toward the end of the meal, the group erupted into spontaneous singing and dancing... it was very festive!

There are different kinds of njangi groups, but the general purpose is to help the members to save money. Or rather, the purpose is to enable each member to receive a lump sum of money once a year. Here's the general idea: Each month, one of 12 members of the njangi is celebrated. He or she provides a meal, and sometimes drinks, for the others, who in turn give the celebrant a (usually) fixed amount. At the meeting, everyone eats and drinks and has a good time. After the meeting, the celebrant has a decent amount of money, enough to do some big project: fix up your house, make an investment in the form of a fowl or a young goat, etc, start a small business.

Obviously, you want to make sure you have trustworthy friends, so that they dependably bring their share each month. Some njangis are Christmas oriented, so that the whole group saves a little more each month and then pools the money and buys a goat, or even a whole cow, to celebrate richly. Or, they give back cash with which to buy presents.

For the njangi we were at, the group takes in money through registration fees, interest due on loans, and fines (for being late to the meeting), in addition to what is collected each month for the "heaving,"  which is the money given to the celebrant. Money is loaned out from the common pool for short-term loans during the year. At the end of the year, everyone has settled up, and any money the group has made (through interest, fines, etc.) is split fairly. This kind of group requires meticulous book keeping, as well as a high level of trust. There is a staff Njangi here at SAC, which I hope to join at the beginning of the next cycle.

Thinking about it, I realized there are similar set-ups back in the States, such as the weekly prayer breakfast at my parish, where we each took turns providing the meal. Then, there are some people who increase their withholding on their paychecks in order to get a bigger refund come Spring, to give them a big chunk of change for vacation, home repairs, or what have you.

In some ways, the njangi (which, by the way, means "exchange") is a good way to save, if you are poor. Living hand to mouth, it can be difficult to put good money away to be able to eventually do something big. Relying on a small community means you are helping each other with your big projects. It's like a miniature savings and loan, with just you and your friends. Plus, you literally get to eat, drink, and be merry. What's not to love?

-Eric

Children's Blog (Age 5)

From Helena:

I am excited about starting school. I got a uniform. Did I say I made new friends on my other blog? I've been having fun in Africa. I went to Bamenda to see my friends. I am happy for the food that Faustina makes while you (Mom and Dad) are gone.

From James:

Our parents have class, but before that they make breakfast. Then they go to class, then they do Lamnso' lessons, they learn Lamnso', and me and Helena's Birthday is almost ready and we are going to school on Monday (Sept 2). I am scared because I think I don't know everybody. That's all!

Orioles Fan

Kumbo is the second largest city in the Northwest Province, but Bamenda is the largest. Bamenda hadn't made much of an impression on me our first time through, besides the breathtaking cliffs and waterfalls. We didn't spend enough time to really get a feel for the place, so I was glad to get a second chance to see it. Everyone in country from Lay Mission-Helpers and Mission Doctors Associations finally arrived, either from holiday back home or, like us, to start their assignment.  And since then we hadn't travelled more than a handful of kilometers from our home here in Kumbo. Now that I think about it, we hadn't travelled as a whole family but two or three kilometers in any one direction.

It was very good to see friends, old and new. I am amazed that the last time I saw many of the other missionaries we were all in Los Angeles, now we are all in Cameroon. It's a small Catholic world!

It's apparently also a small baseball world, as I (finally!) ran into another Oriole's Cap in Bamenda. Sadly, every other cap I've seen has been for the Yankees or Boston. I've also seen one Twins jersey. But, O's fans (or at least O's Paraphernalia) DO exist in Cameroon!

-Eric

More Rolls Please

Baking is possible here, and baking with whole wheat is possible if you can find the whole wheat yourself, and then get it ground into flour at one of the many mills. Quick breads are easy, though leavening is expensive. We have been using many recipes from two of our favorite bread books: the Tassajara bread book, and Artisan Bread in 5 minutes a day. One thing truly amazes me: I can make English muffins! I guess I always thought they just came out of a bag. English Muffins are actually great to make because you can make them stovetop, and not have to use the oven, which uses up cooking gas at a faster rate.

There is something comforting and wonderful and magical about baking: mixing the dough, kneading the dough, sneaking some dough, letting it rise... It's also a universal crowd pleaser. While our "viyikir ve vimbang" (white-man food) is hit or miss with the local crowd, everybody always asks for more rolls.

-Eric

Tradition

I think about Jesus' parables and all the agricultural images in Scripture, and how they must ring very deep and true for the people of Kumbo. With the light of tradition as a guide, and with necessity pushing and pulling them forward, the people here wring out a living from the earth. For me, the images of sowing and reaping and storing grain have always been metaphorical, relating to my life only by analogy. How much more can one understand the words of Christ who actually puts his hand to the plow, who sows, who reaps, who stores her grain!

The image of the fiddler on the roof is an apt one to describe life in Kumbo: people trying to scratch out a simple and pleasing melody, without breaking their necks. From our conversations and observations we know that tradition is very important in many aspects of life here.  In many ways, tradition helps people to understand who they are and what they are about. For instance, we are told that to be married in the Catholic Church, one must first be married according to tradition as well as according to the law, because like it or not, the weight of the traditional ceremonies holds marriages together more firmly than just the vows made in Church.

Then, against the backdrop of tradition, there is progress. Fufu jama jama is consumed with Coca Cola. The farmer breaks from hoeing the ground to answer a cell phone. The Fon, the traditional king, comes out of his palace to watch the Americans set off fireworks for the Fourth of July.

Yesterday, I was walking down the road to Squares, and in short succession I was passed by tradition and progress. There was a procession of men in traditional garb, shouting and chanting and leading along a man dressed in a costume replete with a grotesque wooden mask. They were going up, and I had to step to the edge of the road. There is little shoulder to speak of on that stretch of road, the drop off is steep, and guard rails are practically unheard of here. Then, from out of the constant swarm of achabas buzzing uphill loudly or zooming down almost silently (as gravity uses up no gas) a huge truck loaded with goods came barreling down, honking and belching smoke in the air. I had to stand firm on my little edge of road above the drop-off and trust that neither the truck nor an achaba would force me off.

Tradition steadily climbs up, not merely preserving the past for the past's sake, but rather capturing and claiming for the present and future all that is good and true that has come from the past, leaving the bad. Tradition need not be set against progress, for both are needed: so long as we preserve only the good and that in all our progressing we don't progress straight off a cliff.

The dance and interplay between tradition and progress is all a distant worry when your most immediate need is to try not to get hit by a truck.

-Eric