It's been an interesting journey thus far. We departed from Ebolowa at about 3 PM. En route I saw a child defecating in his front yard and Mishna (a PCMO) bought questionable bananas and pungent manioc batons through her back seat window. (Shopping in Cameroon is probably one of my favorite things right now: You don't go to the store; vendors come to you.) We arrived at the train station by about 5:30 PM, though the person who delivered our tickets didn't arrive until about 15 minutes later, which caused some anxiety, as we were hoping to board by six and depart at 6:10 PM.
Boarding the train was uneventful, though we were giddy to be travelling in first class with air conditioning. It wasn't until we found our four-person "wagon lit" (sleeping cabin) that things got interesting.
To start, the fourth person in the wagon was a Muslim man who spoke no French or English and had a pronounced speech impediment. He would intermittently gesture at us from his prayer rug, seemingly trying to get us to clear the room, but Nathalie and I pretended not to understand, as we weren't comfortable leaving our luggage with a complete stranger. Meanhile, Carl tracked down another PCV, Spencer, and we briefly exchanged hometowns and alma maters. Just as the train was about to depart at 7:10 PM (Yay, Cameroonian time!), a dapper gentleman in an immaculate navy-blue suit appeared in front of our cabin with a briefcase and a distinct air of self-importance. Surely, he said, there must be some mistake: He was to be the fourth occupant of this wagon. The train staff eventually discovered that yes, the praying man's reservation was for another car.
Now that the suited man had successfully found his bed, he wanted a different one--specifically, in a room with no women. "I cannot pray in this room," he told a (female) staff member. "The women cannot hear my prayers. They will prevent my prayers from being heard by God."
As Nathalie's French is not advanced, and Carl was still with Spencer, I was the only one in our group to bear the brunt of this man's misogynist comment. And I was fuming.
Luckily, Carl returned and offered that the suited man exchange places with our friend, who was in a cabin with three other men. The man readily accepted, and Spencer got a free upgrade to first class. Upon his return, I recounted to both he and Carl the man's comments. Both shrugged it off, and Spencer, currently in his second year of service, offered only, "You hear things like that a lot here."
I don't know what I expected. Rage on behalf of their female compatriots? No, but at least some measure of sympathy. I have heard Carl say to a Cameroonian that women are equal to men, that we deserve to make our own decisions and should have access to the same opportunities, and yet confronted with this situation, he only shrugs. This, for me, is where feminism breaks down: We praise men for their advanced ideas regarding equality, but when it's time to back up their thoughts with practice--to actively contradict patriarchal beliefs--the majority fail.
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