I’ve had the realization that all of my recent posts have been
very topic-driven, I haven’t given an update as to the work I’ve been doing,
the life I’ve been living, or the random endeavors I’ve been finding myself on.
This post’ll be that, or, more likely, a random assortment of things that just
pop into my head. That’s pretty true to form, right?
I’ve now been at post for just over five months, and I can tell
you that I’m feeling a lot more comfortable here and a lot more in control than
I did even two months ago. Not every day is like that, but more and more,
they’re becoming common—it’s a pretty good feeling. Things in Batouri are
altogether going pretty well. Still, there are days that I wake up and can’t
bring myself to face the world outside my door until about 5pm. Those are days
usually coincide with power and water being out for the third day straight,
French just not escaping my mouth correctly, illness, or work just not going
the way I believe it should. But, luckily, there are plenty of other days in
which I can’t believe the incredible luck I have. I’m blessed to have the post
I do: I’m challenged in ways I never believed I could be, but more than that,
I’m rewarded by my community in ways that I definitely don’t deserve. Free
meals, gifts of free fabric, free moto rides, tips of places to find work,
neighborhood kids I’ve never seen calling me by name: Batouri continually
reminds me that I was foolish to think that I didn’t belong in the East and
that I’d be miserable here. I’m glad I was wrong about that. Maybe every
volunteer just hits a point where they realize that they can’t imagine being
placed anywhere else and maybe everyone thinks that their post is the best of
the bunch, but maybe we just kind of learn to make do with what we have. Either
way, I’m not complaining: Batouri is home and the generosity and honesty of the
people I’ve met here has been refreshing. Where else would someone call me to
tell me that they have tea waiting for me at their shop or call to ask about
the health of my parents that they’ve never met? Life is a roller coaster here,
and trying to keep it all in perspective is part of the fun. It’s all about
taking the bad with the good and remembering that although today’s been a rough
one, the likelihood is that tomorrow could very well be the best day of your
life.
I’m finding little ways that I’ve unconsciously been making an
impact, although it’s funny seeing exactly which of the things catch on. I have
a habit of calling every kid I see my friend because there are just too many
names to learn and it seems more personal/meaningful that just saying hello. My
post-mate recently told me that the kids on her street recently followed her
down the street yelling “Hello, my friend! Hello, my friend! Hello, my
friend!”—no better feeling than knowing you’re breaking the Blanche/Bui/Nassara
cycle with a more positive word: friend. I love the significance of it; it’s
the little things that make a huge difference. That same post-mate brought the
fist-bump to Batouri, and I’m improving that and turning it to the
bump-and-explode. The first person to pick it was a girl in my youth group,
Rita, pretty soon it’ll spread like wildfire—the finer points of cultural
exchange, clearly. And, my personal favorite: bean, avocado, tomato, and onion
salads. The first time I saw a Cameroonian order one after me I was stunned,
Cameroonians aren’t believers in “chunky” vegetables—if it’s not liquidized in
a sauce, it’s not meant to be eaten. Take that, nutrition!
On a less cheesy note, health-wise, things have been interesting these past couple of weeks. After two and a half weeks of an unbearably itchy, burning rash and two misdiagnoses, the Peace Corps Medical Office finally came up with the answer: an allergic reaction to Mango Sap spent from the many mornings I’ve spent picking mangos from the tree in my front yard. Turns out Mango Sap is like the Poison Ivy of Cameroon, and I’m luckily enough to be ultra-allergic, either that or just not intelligent to connect the mango-picking to the rash in time to prevent it from getting unbearable. Anyhow, Prednisone is a miracle drug, and I’m beginning to feel a million times better and no longer look like a leper—kaaaaaaaching! Feeling healthy means that I’m been able to return to early morning work-outs, cooking, visiting friends, and recommencing work, all of which have been HUGE mood brighteners for me. Cat-sitting probably also helps, as do the many, many movies that I picked up while I was stuck in Yaounde for medical.
Work-wise I’m finding myself fantastically busy. I’m working on a
project for my host institution planting soy and moringa (thanks again to the
volunteers who are donating and transporting the seeds down from the Grand
North!) Eventually I’ll be organizing the kids in managing the plantation; I
want them to be as responsible for it as possible because I believe it teaches invaluable
lessons in leadership, teamwork, and causality. Once things grow, I’m going to
lead the kids in an income-generating activity (read: opportunity to teach
about financial planning) and teach families in the communities how to cook
with soy and moringa. Ideally I’ll be extending this project throughout the
Catholic Diocese (my host organization is Catholic and my counter-part is a
priest) and teaching nuns how to lead similar projects in their communities.
That in and of itself is pretty much a two year project that gives me the
opportunity to touch on so many things that I’m passionate about, especially
the battle against malnutrition. Outside of this, I’m helping out with the
painting of a World Map at Lycee Bilingue, continuing with the handicapped
youth group, helping lead French literacy sessions (in today’s I taught the
Heimlech Manuever to the women—BAM!,) helping out at malnutrition clinics when
I have the time, and trying to arrange a Life Skills Seminar for the girls at
Lycee Bilingue to encourage confidence and positive decision-making. Read: biting
off more than I can chew and thrilled about it.
I’ve found a favorite Cameroonian food (Folere with Rice Couscous)
that I’m pretty sure I could eat every day for the rest of my life, which is
impressive considering that the majority of food out here is definitely not up
the American palate. Folere is a delicious green, tangy sauce made out of some
kind of leaves, usually with chunks of beef. The obsession has grown so much
that the one restaurant in town knows to always have it on Tuesdays and
Wednesdays because I’m always there at least one of those days for lunch. My
next step is to find a Cameroonian woman to teach me how to make it myself,
which is a little more difficult than it sounds because although I’m female, I
definitely have way more in common with the men in the community and therefore
don’t really know any women to teach me—I’m way more educated than your average
woman in Batouri, have neither a husband or children, and hold a job. These
differences definitely limit conversation topics a lot. I invade the bro-sphere
on a daily basis…what exactly DO women here talk about, anyways? What I can,
say, however, is that I’ve spent more time over the past few months debating
polygamy and polyandry with men than I ever thought was possible—turns out I
have that French vocabulary memorized so well that I could probably debate this
in my sleep now. Professional feminism: doing it right.
Looking into the next couple of months, I’ve FINALLY got a month
which might potentially have no travel (June)—I haven’t had a single
travel-free month since February. This possibility is looking fantastic! I’m
feeling tired from this back-and-forth-and-back-and-forth thing that keeps
happening. It’ll be nice to be fixed at post and not get harassed by everyone
who thinks I’m leaving too much. Two of my post-mates are finishing their
service as well as three other region-mates, and the new batch of Community Economic
Development and Education Volunteers will be arriving in August, I’m excited to
see what the new CED will bring to Batouri! And, going along with the theme of Close of
Service, my cousin will hopefully be coming to visit me in August. My friends
in town have already started talking about organizing a big party to celebrate
his arrival, the hospitality in this town is ridiculous.
That’s about it for right now. I’ve got a date with the
fantastically non-Cameroonian salad and tea waiting for me in the kitchen, a
movie, and a cuddle sess with Mike’s cat. Life is good. Take care!
With Love,
With Love,
Steph
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