International Women's Day, Cameroonian Style

Today I went with a busload of High Commission women (mostly) to join in with International Women's Day celebrations at a project they had supported. Oh, plus we brought along Miss Young Cameroon and her snazzily dressed manager. I didn't like to ask why.

Thea and I only knew about this a few days ago, which was tricky because there was no way we could go without having dresses in this year's official '8 Mars' fabric! The fabric had run out, which was probably not a bad thing. Since it is the busiest time of year for all the tailors I'd decided that I'd have to sew mine myself. The last time I made an item of clothing I was 12. Instead we had a really cultural experience of going to Mokolo market on the busiest day of the year to pick out ready made '8 Mars' dresses.

It was challenging finding dresses of a style with which we were comfortable - putting aside the fact that the fabric wasn't what we'd choose. There was a choice of green or pink fabric, highly patterened, with a huge woman's face on it and a message "Femmes, Partenaires Inevitable Du Development" which had been poorly translated to "Women, Unavoidable Development Partners". The best dress I saw (I would have taken a picture, but who takes a camera into a busy African market) was green, but with a pink bit right at the front with just the words "avoidable development". I hope it was because the tailor didn't speak English.

Trying the dresses on over our clothes in the crowded passageways by the stalls was hot and a bit of a squeeze. One time I spotted a dress and came back to it 2 minutes later to find that it had been sold. At the last stall selling the dresses I found one I could cope with (but will never wear again). It was a bit big, but the stall holder did a quick whizz round with her sewing machine. This morning I added a couple of safety pins as an insurance measure.

We set off at 8 (ish), having left a huge list of instructions about school runs, lunch, quiet time, snacks, playgroup etc. The place we were visiting was 'just over an hour away'. Hmmmm. We were leaving the ceremony at 12, no matter what.

Almost inevitably, the project was actually 2 1/2 hours away, plus a bit of waiting around here and there. We kept thinking we'd arrived, only to find that we'd just pulled up to be escorted to the next place. We chose to find it funny. We arrived at 12, which wasn't one of the scenarios covered by the 'we'll leave at 12, no matter what'. Just as we arrived I discovered that the rushed tailor had left a gap in my dress for a pocket, but forgotten to put a pocket there. Good job I had the safety pins, even if I had wanted them elsewhere.

There was a sense of solidarity in hundreds of women all wearing dresses in matching fabric, although I did wonder how those who couldn't afford it felt, and how many people had struggled to pay for theirs. A few women wore the fabric from last year, and there were a very few others with different fabric.

The celebrations were fun. Singing, dancing, a sketch, and lots of speeches. All the women danced, no excuses. Later a woman and a man danced a highly sexualised dance, including right in front of the senior officials, once of whom handed over a bank note (not our High Commissioner). That bit was uncomfortably like a lap dancing club. The senior officials and religious leaders were noticably all male, as was the officious man who shooed people on and off the performance area.

The people who acted the sketch were very funny. It had a gender message. A series of men offered money as a bride price, but the father turned them down for the man chosen by his daughter. Unfortunately, the reason why the woman didn't find the first men attractive seemed to be because one was blind, another was lame and another was from the Ministry of Silly Walks! Maybe there'll be a different day to empower people with disabilities.

Part way through, one of the others (who had also had a rushed tailor) felt one of her seams pop! Good job I had those safety pins. She was roaming round taking photos and her need was greater than mine. Oh, and the High Commission camera stopped working so I left her with mine, so will add some photos to this blog when I get it back.

After an hour or so we slipped out one by one (we'd borrowed the American School Bus and it was meant to get back for the end of School). I arrived back on our side of town in time to go straight to School for Reuben's 5 o'clock pick up (keeping my right hand by my side in case the missing pocket showed). I had no car with me, having rushed out in a queue of traffic nearby so a friend took us home. I then looked in the kitchen with trepidation, but was delighted that my housekeeper had been thoughtful enough to cook some dinner for the kids. Thankfully there was also some for me; who knows how long we would have had to stay at the celebrations in order to have lunch.

Definitely no time for pancakes tonight, but luckily we had them for 'Chandeleur' last month.