Friday, October 11, 2013

Month 25

5 October 2013

Month 25: I'll be back to America in just over one month. I move out of my home in almost exactly one month. I've started trying to clean out the mounds of random stuff that have accumulated and trying to find new homes for the more useful of the items, spurring all kind of memories and thoughts of all the things I still have yet to accomplish. I've got a pile of America-bound things stacked on top of the luggage in my laundry room. And yet, somehow it still doesn't seem real that it's coming to an end. I know I can't stay longer, but somehow, it just doesn't feel like this much time has passed. I know it must have, as evidenced by the mountains of things and all of the stories each item tells.

It's amazing how little a person can get by on--as I look at what remains around here, it's definitely hitting me that I had more stuff crammed into a single dorm room in college than I do in my entire house here. Just like college, though, my house is crammed with old notebooks from training classes, pencils, pens, and books to study with. My house is collaged in photos and letters from friends and family. And, just like college, it's all starting to come to an end before I really feel like I'm ready.

Before we arrived in Cameroon, we were given a couple of books on cultural adjustment, the Peace Corps experience, what to expect on our job-sites, etc. I found all of them today, just after running into all of my old notebooks from Training in Bafia. It's a trip down memory lane seeing everything I struggled with written down on paper: short days, weather, food, struggling with speaking, lack of routine, loneliness, finding out how to feel like yourself in the new culture, etc. When we met up in Philadelphia...or rather, once I finally arrived after my flight delay drama...Peace Corps staff asked us to make a list of our anxieties and aspirations. Looking back, my aspirations for service were pretty low: carrying out conversation, completing service, being able to complete simple tasks, understanding my community, helping create a successful Youth Development program. My anxieties were numerous, and all of them were fulfilled during service: getting ill, security situations, trouble with French, home-stay, missing out on family emergencies, losing touch with friends, getting understood. I underestimated what was possible, what I was capable of, and most importantly, what my community would be capable of.

It's true that a lot of this experience has been about me and my struggles, successes, and constantly changing perceptions, but so much of this experience has been about everyone else: my community's challenges and strengths, culture, and attempts to find ways to develop without sacrificing their ideals and culture in an overtly corrupt environment. It's been these themes that have defined my last two years. Had I been placed in Mongolia or Suriname or even just a different region of this country, it's certain that'd I would have had an entirely different experience. But I wasn't: I was placed in bush meat, gold, timber, and tobacco country. These aspects have defined my experience, but they've defined my community even more. I'm leaving in a month, but the friends, colleagues, and acquaintances I've made will still be here working for the betterment of the country. My benefits have outweighed the challenges in service despite all odds, but my community is still struggling to find it's place and trying to deal with all the issues that the exploitation trades have left it with. Two years may have passed, but it somehow still doesn't feel quite long enough when you consider just how much is still left to do. I clearly am still struggling to find the meaning and depth of understanding about this experience, my place in the community, and how to integrate all of this into life in America. But, it'll get there. In the mean time, I'll be here cleaning, sorting, and remembering.

On the note of house cleaning, I've been trying to take care of my house since it appears to be trying to fall apart around my feet now that the real brutality of rainy season has begun. Outside of making my house spring new leaks and making my pipes overflow with dirty sewage in my bathroom/spare bedroom, the rains have lately knocked out the road to a couple of major villages in the department by carrying away two separate bridges. I can only imagine what this is going to mean for crops a few months down the line. But, at least at the moment it hasn't destroyed the fish farm (yet.)

I can't imagine a better time to be leaving Cameroon. Food is plentiful, and there are even red peppers at the market! The night skies are stunningly clear with sunsets that any National Geographic photographer would salivate over. The trees are a beautiful, crisp green and all of the flowers are in bloom. Even though we're still not having normal electricity, it's at least improved in that we're getting it almost every day with at least a small handful of the hours happening in daylight (the rest all tend to be post-midnight.) Work is continuing to go on, but I feel like I have a good handle on all of it and don't need to stress about preparation or learning the French necessary to teach effectively. Having my phone "misplaced" (ie: stolen or lost by a child,) has turned out to be a blessing in disguise since now only people I really want to have my number have it; it would be a complete understatement to say that I'm living much more tranquilly now. All in all, things are a breath of fresh air right now. The difficulties of adjustment to this country are over, now it just comes down to learning how to say goodbye.

Other news:

-Cameroon has just finished Mayoral and Deputy elections. The RDPC (Rassemblement Democratique du Peuple Camerounaises) has unofficially won every seat in Batouri again, which is a surprise to no one considering corruption levels (the President [member of the RDPC, of course] has been in power now over 30 years.)

-Eid al Tabaski/Fete de Mutton/Feast of the Sacrifice is in less than 2 weeks (coincidentally, it should happen to fall on my birthday this year.) I'm planning on getting African-style braids, henna, and I have a crazy new outfit at the tailor waiting for me now.

-We're currently working on our second installment of the HIV/AIDS education murals in the East. This one is taking place in Mandjou, a village outside of the regional capital. Most of the villagers are either Muslim Fulbes or refugees from the Central African Republic.

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