Suddenly, I’m
finding myself asking the all-important question: where did all my time go? Looking
at what’s left, I’m feeling pressed for time and like I have a
lot to cram in before this coming December. There’s a lot to do, a lot to
learn, a lot to experience, and not much time left to go. A number of “lasts”
and mile markers of PC Cameroon service have happened recently: Mid-Service
Training, my last Christmas/New Year’s/Valentine’s Day in country, my last
Youth Day celebration, and my last In-Service Training. I’m about to celebrate
my last Women’s Day in Cameroon and to celebrate my last Easter as a Peace
Corps Volunteer. I can count the months until my Close of Service Conference on
one hand, and I can count the months of service left on less than 10 fingers.
If there was ever a time that basic math was fun, it’s this time right here: 27
months-17.5 months complete=9.5 months. My mind is officially blown by how
little time remains—I remember being amazed when I first lasted in Cameroon
nine months!
Looking back,
there are a lot of bizarre things that strike me about Peace Corps; from
learning tips on how to prevent having snakes in my house to being taught how
to best butcher a chicken, there’s never been a day when there hasn’t been some
kind of survival skill to learn. These skills are useful, yes, and (sometimes)
have the ability of being useful in the States, but the most striking thing
I’ve come to learn is that less technology you have and the less developed your
community is, the more vulnerable you are to “the elements” and the less
control you have over your daily life. This seemed kind of exciting the first
go-around, but now that this actually feels
like my life and not some crazy-long tourist adventure, the excitement has
given out to frustration and feelings of restriction.
Weather here works
in extremes and theoretically in cycles: long dry season, short wet season,
short dry season, long wet season. Every season has its own weird reality and
particularities, and they're getting more extreme as climate change takes hold--it's predicted that the average temperature in my community will rise another 5-10 degrees farhenheit; no one here debates the existence of climate change, and it's so engrained that even the most uneducated people can point to specific examples of how the climate/weather has changed in the community (dates of the rains, rise of temperature, decrease of the rains, etc.)
The precipitation amounts change each season, and so do the
temperatures, but so do food availability, workload, attendance at
school/work/meetings, road conditions, and health risks. There aren’t any
weather reports here, so you need to be intuitive about what’s likely to
happen, and also about what else might still happen. Ultimately, you should
prepare for the worst, hope for the best, and be willing to go with whatever
ends up happening. No person can control weather, but there are things that
make it easier to manage: consistent access to transportation, infrastructure,
weather reports, consistent phone reception, safe housing structures,
insurance. Clearly, those things don’t tend to exist in a lot of the places
where Peace Corps tends to work. From where I stand in Cameroon, the lack of
shelter from weather has created and reinforced a belief that God makes all
decisions for humankind and that NOTHING can be changed or can deviate from
that path. If there’s any mentality that impedes and stunts development: it’s
that one.
Earlier this week,
I was returning from training the new Youth Development Volunteers at their
In-Service Training. We all thought we were still in long dry season, turns out
we’re not: a freak storm hit while we were traveling, and NONE of us were
dressed for the weather or prepared for the consequences. I did everything I
could to prepare, mainly meaning that I called someone in Batouri to figure
out how the rain was there to decide whether I should travel. It turns out I
made the wrong choice: our car pin-balled across the road for hours because of
the weather. A little girl’s carsickness made her vomit everywhere, we lost
control of the car and ran over a piglet, got stuck in mud for 45-minutes while
a group of bribed villagers helped our driver get our car un-stuck, and
everyone struggled to make it back into the car because everybody was dressed
in the requisite dry-season-travel sandals. Welcome to rainy season travel in
Eastern Cameroon, world.
What’s a girl to
do, though, when you’re out with friends and a freak storm hits? There aren’t
any motorcycles to give you a ride home, and even if you are, the road is dirt
and the driving conditions get bad quickly. I don’t live in the center of town,
so when these freak storms, I have to retreat to one of my post-mate’s houses;
this week, it ended in an entirely unexpected sleepover at my post-mate’s house
since there was no way to get back to my own. It's not uncommon for people to miss work, doctor's appointments, meetings, etc. because of these freak storms. Nobody has much control over their daily lives in rainy season.
There’s a whole
code of rainy season survival tips, and you learn them fast once you start
living it. Once a storm hits, it’s important to immediately put out your
buckets and bowls because you don’t know if water will go out and for how long.
Today, I collected about 30L of rain water to prepare…just in case. I still
have running water at the moment, but I also still remember the time that water
was out in town for two weeks and I had a visitor. You get really good at ready
the signs of whether a storm is going to hit: stillness followed by a strong
wind wind, a dark sky, leaves on the trees turning upwards. You learn to avoid
walking underneath mango trees because mangoes frequently drop to the ground, and they aren’t exactly a light
fruit.
You don’t just
feel the effects of weather in big ways. You grow to learn that if it starts
raining and you have a meeting starting in 30 minutes, don’t bother showing up,
because they’re not going to either since transportation is null. After a few
days, you perfect your technique of waking up that shopkeeper who’s taking the
requisite “it’s painfully hot in dry season” nap. Certain clothes can’t be worn
in certain seasons, and because hand-washing is really the only system here,
you learn which techniques work best on the mud versus the dirt. You learn that
cement holds heat, and that during dry season, it’s much better to cook
outdoors over a fire if you have the possibility. You also learn which seasons have the most cockroaches, which for me is...right now. Eff. You move around less from 10-4p, and you grow to plan your daily activities based on the availability of shade and water.
This is my last
short wet season. Am I going to get nostalgic for these freak storms and get
paranoid about putting out buckets? Most likely. Still, it’s going to be
magical not to have to put life on hold for days while everyone waits for the
ground to dry out.
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