Culture Shock

I'm sitting in the Bertoua transit house ("Case" in Peace Corps lingo) by myself and trying to will my computer to download virus protection faster, so I suppose this is an opportune time to sit down and write a blog post since it's been awhile. I've spent the past couple of weeks traveling for my In-Service Training in Bamenda--the capital of one of Cameroon's Anglophone Northwest. There are a ton of different ways that I could potentially describe that whole experience, but there's really only one that covers it all: culture shock.

My city, Batouri, is in the least developed, least populated region of the country. We're well known throughout the country as having "difficult" mentalities out here. I'd heard this over and over and over, and that was part of the reason that I had originally been so dead-set on not being posted out here. But, hearing all of this is totally different than actually having something to compare it to. It's easy to get used to not having paved roads and having only the same couple of options of things to buy at the markets, one because you know there are other volunteers with less, but also because you don't really realize that other people have more. And, you know what? People don't just have more, some people have a lot more. That doesn't make Peace Corps easy, it just makes the entire experience different--my experience in the East might as well be that of a volunteer in a completely different country when you compare it to some of the other regions. That's the beauty of Peace Corps Cameroon: no region, no city can be exactly like yours. This country is too diverse for anything to really be comparable. We have two official languages, but there's at least 250 other languages spoken in country. Our predominant religions are Christianity and Islam, but not only can you break those into a million sub-sets, but they all have a local flavor. My Cameroon is not the Cameroon that a volunteer in a village in the Littoral knows or a city volunteer in the Adamaoua: we all have a separate reality that just doesn't translate over, making every trip seem like an exotic vacation.

On my way to In-Service Training, I not only rode in a comfortable, luxurious bus on paved roads, but I saw street signs and construction. What about those parking spaces and parking meters in Bamenda? Downright trippy. Coming back East after Bamenda, I stopped at one of Yaounde's largest grocery stores, Casino. I didn't have to argue to get a better price, they automatically had change for a 10.000 bill, and I was able to buy pudding. PUDDING. It's amazing the little things that become so fantastically stunning here: buying ice cream, riding in a taxi with automatic windows, speaking English and being understood. At some point, having access to all these things and seeing all these things I hadn't seen in months kind of made my head start to spin. Going back to Batouri is going to be a detox, I suppose. I've been in country now for just over six months. While it doesn't necessarily feel like it's been that long, situations definitely arise that prove to me just how much control I've been gaining over everything. After all, you can only get culture shock in comparison to another culture, right? And if I'm being shocked at pudding and parking spaces, God knows we're not comparing on an American standard.

In Yaounde, I ran into some volunteers whom I know from training that finish their service within the next couple of months. They were returning from a trip through the East. Their complaints about our uncomfortable "Prison Buses" and the accompanying bruises was validating: I'm gaining control over the life I'm living. Things that used to suck are becoming normal. the fact that sitting in a comfortable bus actually made me uncomfortable, is testament to just how acclimated I'm becoming to everything. Go me. But, more than that, way to go training group--we're tougher than we were three months ago. We've done something we've all doubted that we'd be able to do: we've made it through three months alone and thrived!

All in all, Bamenda was fantastic. The hotel had an American-style mattress with soft pillows instead of the awful, stiff foam sold everywhere else in country. We had hot water and consistent electricity. Our food was provided for us, and all of the workers spoke to us in English. There was a coffee shop downtown with chocolate cake, pasta salad, macchiatos, and espressos. Books are valued there. And, perhaps most of all, a million other Americans because of training.

Crazy.

Coloring Outside the Lines

13-2-12

Bui! Nassara! Nassara! Nassara! LA BLAAAAAAAAAAAANCHE! Three different words, three different languages, pronounced a million different ways with or without the ubiquitous Cameroonian “tssssssssssst” and kissing sounds, all in the same city. I hear each of these words about thirty times a day minimum, and each of them means the same thing: white person. Sometimes it’s a hoard of small children trying to catch my attention to say hello, words that depend on familiarity and time of day, with full salutations being long strings of about 5 questions in both French and Fulfulde. But, more often than not, it’s not small children—if it was, I’d probably be more patient and more forgiving because children can be taught to behave differently. Nope, it’s the motodrivers, the market men, the boutique owners, the tailors… practically everyone everywhere. Living here is a social experiment in finding out exactly what it’s like to live in a society where racial profiling is not only alive and well, but directed totally at you.

 

Example One:

By country law, everyone is required to carry identity cards all the time whether you’re walking around town or travelling clear across the country. The police officers (Gendarmes, as they’re called here,) have the right to ask you whenever they want to see the card, although the only random time I’ve been asked to see it is in government buildings when visiting the Prefect and Commandant. Travelling, however, is a totally different story.

You are sitting in a small, crowded bus (five people per row, not including babies, chickens, packages, or the unlucky people who either stand in the back out the door or sit on top of the bus with the luggage.) You weren’t lucky enough to secure a spot next to the driver in the cabin where it’s more spacious/less hot/less dusty, you are missing that all-important Y-chromosome, after all. You’ve hit the first checkpoint of two on your three and a half hour voyage, the gendarme beelines straight towards you: “Carte d’identité, madame.” You pass it over, he gives it back after inspecting it and glaring at how dirty it is, and then he waves off the bus and lets it go on its merry way. Nobody else’s card is checked: you are the only one, again. How convenient, because you are also the only white person on the bus.

Example Two:

You’re marching in the Youth Day Parade with your host organization, and they asked you to come in to get sized up by the tailor for your super awesome, matching parade garb that, eventually, comes out looking a little like a bad prom dress. After the tailor finishes measuring you up, you glance at the paper of measurements. Everybody’s measurements have a name corresponding to them, but not yours. Yours only says “Blanche.” She’s never even bothered to ask you for your name.

Example Three:

You’re at a “meeting” with your counterpart at bar, because what better possible location could there be? You’ve been stuck there about three and a half hours, and you need to run because you have another meeting to go to. You let your group know, and receive the following response: “You white people, you always have meetings. You white people always have to run on some kind of a schedule. Why can’t you all act more like us?”

Turns out, Cameroonians think white people all look the same. I’ve also been asked if I’m Italian. I’ve had children taunt me because they thought I was Asian—bowing and elongating their R’s the same way you see kids doing it in the US. And, just like I am the worst at estimating Cameroonian ages, they struggle to guess our ages, too.

We don’t talk race or color or really even about physical differences in America, nobody wants to come off as being on the wrong side of politically correct, and for good reason: being “othered” sucks. But, I can imagine that being in a situation where everybody refuses to talk about the elephant in the room sucks even more. We’ve been raised to believe that these conversations are impolite, and therefore anytime we get near talking about them, everyone gets uncomfortable. This situation isn’t working for us in the States whether we want to admit it or not: race remains a problem. Schools largely remain segregated. Poverty, unemployment, early pregnancy, and under-education continue to unduly hit the black community hard.

 

We were told during training that Cameroonians don’t do direct conversation, and in some aspects that’s true. Everyone talks around conflict and money here, which, as Americans, are two things we’re good at: get that awkwardness over, and as soon as possible. At the same time, however, Cameroonians don’t hesitate to tell you how you’re looking that day (to use specific terms I’ve received: fat, sexy, thick, like a child,) to talk about health problems like HIV/AIDS, or to address race. The constant comments about my skin color drive me nuts. Cameroonians are masters of something I hear volunteers frequently call the present obvious form of language, used in questions like “White girl, you’re walking?” “White girl, you’re there?” “White girl, you eat piment?” These questions always seem to state my skin color, thus accentuating the obvious nature of whatever I happen to be doing at that moment that they’re finding so fascinating. Anyway, despite the fact that I find this irritating, it’s given me the opportunity to have the kind of conversations about race and color that are physically impossible in the States.

Race doesn’t need to be so taboo, and until we start addressing it, we’re never going to be the best we can be as a society. Cameroon, of course, doesn’t have an ideal system either. The ideal is bound to be somewhere between the two of us. I don’t claim to have any amazing, innovative solution to racial profiling or teen pregnancy or segregation or even to know the least uncomfortable way to talk about race. That’s all well beyond my knowledge. But, what I do know is that if there’s one thing I’ve learned about being an outsider from all the harassment I receive, it’s that if we take the opportunity to talk about our differences and ask questions, the discomfort of the situation tends to dissipate.

So, this has been what’s been on my mind recently. It’s been interesting to think about Cameroonian versus American culture under this lens, and I’m sure it’s going to be something that I continue to grapple with over the next two years of my service and beyond. It’s not been easy to be in the situation of being the one that so clearly stands out. My new, thick skin is coming in nicely, clearly.

With Love,

Steph

Four Months In!

23/1/12

As of today, I’ve spent four full months in Cameroon, which is really exciting. So much has changed over the past four months, but I don’t really want to spend this entry being nostalgic about all of that—I think I’ve covered all that pretty well over the past couple of blog posts. Instead, I wanted to give you a better update as to what I’m up to work-wise here in Batouri now that I’ve actually started some semblance of work.

As a Youth Development Volunteer, I have a lot of freedom to decide what I want to do, with who, and when. Part of that is because the program is totally new (being in the founding class has its privileges for sure,) but a lot of that is that the program was designed to combine the successful aspects of each of the four pre-existing programs and tailor it to a specific demographic: youth and families. So, over the course of my service, I could choose to work with young mothers on childhood nutrition, secondary students on financial management and goal-setting, teachers on how to approach sexual health in classes, etc. The possibilities are endless, and that’s what I really enjoy about my program: I’m not constricted to any one subject. I also have an awesome opportunity to collaborate with the other sectors, which is great because in Batouri there are volunteers from the Education, Small Enterprise Development, and Agroforestry sectors. The only sector not represented here is Health, and that was a good chunk of my training, and there’s a Health volunteer posted only about three hours away.

Now that I’ve gotten more settled into my house (key word here being “more,” as I’ve still got a long way to go before being established,) I’ve been checking out a lot of the institutions and schools that are active here in the community. Historically, Peace Corps has been really active here in Batouri, but there are a number of other local, regional, and international organizations active here as well. My host institution, Centre Pour la Promotion de la Femme et la Famille, works with women and young mothers giving technical training and general education. It’s a small organization that lacks funding, so while they have a lot of big ideas of what they would like to do in the future, all ideas constantly need to be scaled down because there’s just no money for them to work with. I’ve had two meetings there so far to get to know the staff and become more familiar with their work there, I’m headed back tomorrow with my post-mate to talk more concretely about some possibilities regarding running a soy and nutrition formation there within the next few months.

I’ve also started running some needs assessment-type work at one of the local, public secondary schools. I’ve found a really dynamic Vice-Principal to work with there, and that’s been a huge gift because he’s passionate about many of the same issues I am and he’s not afraid to address these issues head-on. This past week, I had a meeting with about 40 girls to talk about their lives at home, in the community, and at the school. In a lot of ways, their complaints were the same as the ones I would have said at their age: cliques, superiority complexes, and gossip, but there were plenty of other things that they said that were really jarring for me (being scared to walk around campus because of the harassment of boys, teachers blackmailing girls for money and sex, being forced into prostitution to pay for school fees, and being scared of being married off before finishing education.) I hope to be able to talk to the boys within the next week, and with teachers if that’s possible. The next time that the PTA meets, I plan to attend so that I can get a better sense of parental involvement and what parents’ reactions to my plans are.

Last week, I went to visit an organization that’s associated with the Catholic Mission here, Esperance Sare Jeunes. Esperance is one of the most inspirational, well-organized places I’ve found in town. They work with youth whose families can’t afford to keep them at home or send them to school giving them a place to stay, technical training in agriculture, and paying for their school fees. Be on the look-out for photos on facebook from Esperance—they tell the story of that place much better than I do. I’m headed back tomorrow afternoon with my post-mate to meet with the kids there and hear their stories and get a better idea of what the kids think that the two of us can do to improve their situations.

I have a friend who teaches the local language, Kako, to students at a private primary school in town, and he took me to his class last week, which was a blast. Benjamen also teaches illiterate parents to read and write in a village about 10 kilometers from here, so I’m hoping to go to one of those sessions soon, mostly just because I think he’s such a powerful teacher and I want to see what a village out here looks like.

So, work-wise, as you can see, things are going really well! I’m definitely finding a lot of interesting potential projects out here but, more importantly, I’m finding people who genuinely care about the work I want to do and who are realistic about the things we can accomplish together. If this first month and a half of post is indicative of what I’m in for during the rest of my time here, I’m going to be busy but there’s a definite possibility of making a lasting difference in the community, which is encouraging and exciting. As for the being busy part, let’s be honest, you and I both know that I’m thrilled to finally have things to do here (besides just cook delicious things and fiddle around with house set-up, anyways.)

We're Not in Kansas Anymore, Toto

6-1-12

Okay, so we were never actually in Kansas and I’ve never set so much as a foot on Kansan ground, the title’s a stretch… I just wanted to sound witty and have a clever title. I also just finished reading Wicked, so the whole Wizard of Oz reference is just on the mind. Anyways, the point is that I’m out of Bafia, out of training, and definitely more on my own than I’ve ever been and with a language that isn’t my first. The end of training was long and dull, so I’m not going to bore you with any of those details (you can thank me later!) This post is exclusively about my new digs and the beginning of my life here in Batouri, which there’s definitely more than enough to talk about.

I’ve been in Batouri now since the 13^th, and been out of Bafia since the 9^th—it’s amazing how quickly this place is beginning to feel like home and how much I’ve already begun to adjust to life here. All things considered, I think Mike and I are doing an awesome job for ourselves—we’ve been braving the markets and stores together a lot of the time, and we have made of number of Cameroonian mutual friends. Jessica just returned from her wedding, so she and her husband have been introducing us to their friends and helping us out with random house repair stuff. It’s definitely nice not to be totally alone here—it’s definitely an overwhelming experience and having someone to rant to in American English is a glorious thing. I’m really excited for the next two years—all of my post-mates are fantastic people, and we’re definitely going to be able to serve as a strong support system for each other. The other two volunteers in my cluster (Geoff and Julia, their post is Kentzou, which is about 15km from the Central African Republic) are equally as wonderful—the “Extreme East” is where the party’s at!!

On the actual daily level of life here, I’ve been terrifically productive, probably more so than I’ve been since arriving in Cameroon. I don’t want to give you a dull laundry list of things I’ve accomplished, so you should probably just take that at face value. There’s definitely a lot more to explore and to do, though—Mike and I are have been doing the Peace Corps required “Protocol” (aka: introductions) with government officials and random other important people. The process has been a little slowed down between the holidays and travel to Bertoua for the New Year, which was excellent and much needed. My current project includes trying to legalize my water and gas, because apparently the people that lived in my house before me had an illegal connection. I’m terrified to see just how expensive all of this is about to be. Anyhow, Bertoua was great, and I came home with a propane tank in hand, so it’s nice to have cooking as stress relief again (plus, way cheaper than restaurant food.) I’ve discovered a love of peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwiches, as well, so basically, food and I are at a great place with one another again. Back on the point, it’s been a rough adjustment in general going from having all of my days planned to having no plans at all for the next three months, but I’m making do. Doing little things for myself like making drapes by hand and pasta sauce from scratch helps; yes, Stephanie Gasior is, in fact, your very own little Suzy Homemaker.

For the most part, I’ve been avoiding motos (except at night or when I’m returning from a shopping trip and am carrying a million things) and instead been walking everywhere. I think that’s been making a HUGE difference in making myself visible to my community—I’ve definitely been making an effort to greet every person I see on my walk, and I know that they’re starting to recognize me and, as a result, are willing to start conversations. Considering how short of a time period I’ve been here, I think that’s doing pretty well. I should mention that I make the walk from my house to Centre-Ville probably twice a day or more and it’s about a 20 minute walk and by the end of it, I’m covered in red dust. I think my feet may permanently look like I’ve gotten an exceptionally bad spray-on tan. Jersey Shore Cameroon has a future here in Batouri during dry season. Anyhow, since getting here, I’ve made a couple of Cameroonian friends (eg: my neighbor who’s a teacher at the Ecole Maternelle and another girl who’s my age and a student at the lycée) and that’s definitely helping me feel more welcomed here in town. Christmas Day was really sweet because they all called/texted to check in and send their best wishes, so clearly I’m doing something right so far J

I had a really productive meeting at the local high school this week, which I am amped about. It looks like there’s a lot that I can potentially do there in the future, and the administration is really supportive of PC involvement. I’m meeting with the students for a needs assessment this coming week.

All that said, it’s weird not having such a large, tight-knit community of Americans surrounding me anymore. It’s also weird not knowing automatically where to find meals, how much an item should cost, or where to find things. It’s all a very tiring experience, and that’s a super generalization. Tiring as it is, it’s fulfilling to know that I’m basically doing this all on my own. Looking back through this experience, I’m really proud of how well I’ve handled everything and how much I’ve been able to accomplish. I don’t know that I’d have anticipated that I’d be doing all this on my own if you would have asked me back in the States. Monthly banking is going to feel like a saving grace, I think, because all of the Easties from my Stage are in Bertoua at the same time for that.

Other difficult things about Batouri: SO MANY LANGUAGES. Why use just French in a sentence when you can throw in Kako, Fulfulde, and Cameroonian English, too? Also, it’s generally favorable to confuse the white girl by speaking a million words a minute. My French, though, has increased and improved a thousand-fold since being here—I can’t believe how much easier French has become just in moving here. I’ve picked up a phrase or two of Kako and Fulfulde, as well—not enough to actually communicate, but enough to elicit a smile or two. My Community Host is giving me some materials to study Fulfulde from, and I’ve been trying to get my landlords to teach me a little bit of Kako whenever I sit down with them. Harassment is also fun times here in Batouri, so little Miss Suzy Homemaker has been upping the sass level as necessary (turns out, in general, pretty high.)

Well, friends, that’s basically it—my life in a nutshell: simultaneously busy and chill, exciting and repetitive, tiring and energizing. Amazing how much of life is a contradiction, right?

I miss you all, love you all, and hope you’re having a safe holiday season with family and friends.

Love,
Steph

“You and I, we will live differently. With our hearts in our hands like loaded guns, we’re taking our chance, we’re the lucky ones. This moment is yours, this moment is mine, and we’re going to be fine.” Brendan James—The Lucky Ones

The End is Near

28/11/11

So, Stage is almost done, and everything I’ve known having to do with Peace Corps is about to change dramatically: no more rigid schedule, no more curfew, no more John the money man delivering envelopes full of money, no more people cooking meals for me, no more being surrounded by people who come from the same background. Peace Corps is about to get a whole lot more challenging, and Cameroon is about to feel a lot more real. This is what I came for: the real challenges and growing experiences are about to begin.

So, what have I been up to lately? Eating. A lot. And yes, I’m totally serious, that’s definitely been the bulk of my life outside of class-type stuff. Not so long ago, we made a delicious, American style brunch with chocolate chip pancakes, fruit salad, homemade hashbrowns, omelet, and avocado salad. I think that was the first time that I really had hope for good eats in Cameroon.

We also hosted ourselves a really nice Thanksgiving lunch/dinner in Bokito (the village where the Health kids have their Stage.) All of us contributed an item that we made ourselves, and it was possibly the most delicious day of my life. For those carnivorous folks, there was chicken (some of which was purchased from my host family), and for us veggies, we had homemade tofu. There was also guacamole, garlic bread (my contribution), red bean hummus, green beans, 3 different types of mashed potatoes, bruschetta, etc. etc. etc. Even more excitingly: desserts! Brownies, cakes, fruit salads, pineapple deliciousness, and pumpkin pie. I’m not sure that I’ve ever had such a thorough food coma, so clearly Thanksgiving was a big success.

Peace Corps hosted Cameroonian/American Diversity Day for us, as well, which, among talent shows, skits, Cameroonian proverbs, and music, included delicious Cameroonian food. If you assumed that Peace Corps membership came with a dramatic weight loss, you were definitely wrong, my friends. But, the food is good, people continue to be fantastic, and all in all, I’m living just the kind of life that I’ve wanted. Things with my host family have calmed down considerably, and all in all, I’m feeling pretty acclimated to life in Bafia, which means that it’s definitely time to move on to Batouri.

Over the next ten days, things are going to stay roughly the same: class continues on and on and on, and we continue to play massive amounts of volleyball to kill the time. But, when Stage ends, we have a big Swearing-In ceremony that the Embassy attends, as well as all of us and our host families. Every program has matching clothing, too, in clear Cameroonian style. Afterwards, curfew is finally over, so we can go back to feeling like independent people for one whole night. Hooooooooooooooooooooo buddy!

And, that’s it for now. Stay safe, all!

"People who live in glass houses..."

16-11-11

…shouldn’t get dressed during the day. This “traditional American proverb” provided by the English Club of the Lycee Classique in Bafia. Your life is changed forever now, I know. How I survived this long without that word of wisdom, I’m just unsure.

Cultural misunderstandings and awkward dinner party stories abound here, I may never run out of fuel for lags in conversation in America ever again… that is, if I remember to tell these stories in English, which is increasingly becoming a problem. I’ve just started learning Fulfulde (a language predominant amongst the Muslim Fulani people of Nigeria and Cameroon), but interestingly, these lessons are taught in French. Franfulglais: coming to you compliments of your United States Peace Corps volunteers. Nonetheless, I did have a conversation with my Community Partner on the phone in French and I think we both understood each other pretty decently—SCORE! More and more I’m having moments where I feel like I sound like an intelligent human being in French (or, at least, one who has completed primary school.) I have a long way to go, but it’s always encouraging to feel like you’re making progress J

Dry season (or hot season, depending who you talk to and what region they’re from) has hit Cameroon, and it’s hitting hard. Oddly, it’s cold at night and in the morning but blazing hot the rest of the day—more than once I’ve woken up with goose bumps. Mosquitos are suddenly far more awful than they’ve been this entire time, and the Moot Moots are even worse (they leave these horribly itchy bites that bleed and are shaped like archery targets.) Thanks Camps Ledgewood, Whip-Poor-Will, and Libbey for preparing me for the awful-ness of having a million bites at all time.

We swear-in on December 8, and that can’t come soon enough. Peace Corps is all about the waiting and the patience-building, but in general, I think that’s a good thing… I’m just feeling ready to do something useful. Plus, I mostly just want to get started on making my house livable. Can we just skip the school work and whatnot and fast-forward? Plus side/side-note: I dropped off new fabric today to the tailor to get a dress made for Swearing-In… I absolutely adore my tailor, she might just be the cutest person I’ve ever met in my life. I hope that I can find a tailor in Batouri who is as fantastic. Double side-note: tie-dyed fabric, I want some. They sell it in Bertoua…yet another reason to be excited to move-in.

I can’t believe how long I’ve already been here. It is insane how much I learn in a day and how many new things I experience. I don’t know another time in my life recently where anything has so fully absorbed me; it’s like being five again because everything’s new all the time. Also, fun fact, I was literally punished for not bringing home my host mother a present from Batouri—good thing I am a pro at washing dishes quickly/effectively Cameroonian style, otherwise I might have felt bad. Anyhow, the living situation with a family and being surrounded by all the volunteers who are clearly so much more knowledgeable than us definitely adds to that whole five year old effect.

Quick other updates: 1) I have finally seen the mouse that abides in my room and, if you so please, I could give you a detailed list of the things he does and doesn’t like to eat. 2) Our cat, Minette, ran away and I’ve been without cuddle time with the cat ever since. 3) We’ve all discovered a frozen yogurt treat near to the school that’s helping us to survive the awful heat, and, thankfully, frozen yogurt exists in Batouri, as well. 4) I have become a pro at hailing taxis and motorcycles, but unfortunately, not a pro at avoiding stereotypical Stephanie bad luck—hopefully that’s next. 5) Thanksgiving: what I wouldn’t give to eat delicious amounts of that food.

Miss you all, love you, and hope you’re all staying safe. Drink some apple cider for me, lay under a warm blanket in flannel PJ pants, and watch a couple episodes of obnoxiously bad TV.

How Far Will You Go?

"I want to warn anyone who sees the Peace Corps as an alternative to the draft that life may well be easier at Fort Dix or at a post in Germany than it will be with us." Sargeant Shriver

"Life is calling, how far will you go?" US Peace Corps Slogan

Last time I wrote, I told you that I was posted in Batouri, but I definitely know a lot more now than I did last week, so consider this part 2 of that first post. Being the person that writes definitely has it's perks, and in this respect, it's definitely getting to choose to ramble on and on and on about my awesome assignment.

POP QUIZ: Where am I posted? What region am I in? If you said Batouri in the East region, on are rocking at your knowledge of Stephanie Gasior... either that or you paid close attention to that first sentence and then did a google search, in which case I applaud your dedication.

Okay, anywho, this week was site visit, meaning that we left for Bertoua on Saturday, left for Batouri early on Wednesday morning with my post-mate, and then returned to Bertoua today. Bertoua has been fantastic, but because that's not my post, I'm not going to go into great depth about it except to say that it has the best fish and best pasteries I've ever had in my life--it is definitely a city to expect more from in the future.

On to the important things: BATOURI! Mike and I arrived Wednesday around 10, and I don't know what I expected to find, but it definitely wasn't what I found. Batouri is pretty moderately sized, but has a ton of government agencies, religious organizations, and private organizations. Unlike Bafia, it's also pretty clean, which was delightful. I don't know where to begin describing Batouri, but I will say that it's spread out, has a lot of different ethnic/linguistic/cultural influences, and is environmentally beautiful. I'm definitely looking forward to getting to know the little nuances and finding the intriguing nooks once I return for good in December. It's definitely going to take awhile to get acclimated, but I'm up for the challenge and ready for anything/everything that's about to be sent my way. Getting out of Bafia was definitely the kind of motivation that I needed, and I know a lot of others feel the same way. Plus, it was nice to drink a real cup of coffee and have some freedom to feel like an adult again.

So, while in Batouri, I got to see my house (100% empty, but it has electricity and running water once I pay for the counters for those), visit a logging company, see my host institution (Centre pour la Promotion de la Femme et la Famille), learn about a large number of potential projects (including one with the UN Development Project [fingers crossed]), eat lots of delicious local foods, meet my two post-mates, and generally start to acclimate myself. I'm feeling much more amped about Batouri now that I've had the opportunity to see it, I'm genuinely feeling like it's the right place for me at this point in my life: lots of challenge, lots of opportunity for personal growth, lots of opportunity for community growth (I hope.) So, thanks Program Manager Amadou for not listening to my requests, I think you made an excellent decision on my behalf :)

I am definitely looking forward to having a comfortable home of my own that I can cook food in, although I recognize that it's going to take some time before I hit that point. On that note, I would gladly accept any maps, photos, hand-drawn pictures, post-cards, decorations, etc. that you want to send my direction. Most any of that could fit in a simple envelope, and it'll make a huge difference in making my empty house feel like a home. And, yes, that was a shame-less plug, but I'm assuming that you love me enough to look past that!

I'm also just genuinely looking forward to being done with stage and creating a life for myself: deciding my daily schedule, choosing friends to associate with, grocery shopping, designing projects. All of those tiny things that I took for granted in the States are definitely what I'm most excited for now, although I clearly never rode motorcycles as my main form of transportation in the US. It is wonderful to know that there are so many opportunities ahead of me, it's just unfortunate that I need to go back to a highly scheduled life and living with a family again for the next month. But, if there's one thing that I've learned from the Peace Corps so far, it's patience. A month is a short time, and soon I'll be at post missing the structure and missing the organization.

Much love,
Steph