Misunderstanding

29 June 2013

The level of misunderstanding in this country is astounding. Some of it's harmless, but much of it has led to hatred, distrust, and inequity. To some degree, it's understandable--most people don't finish their education here, and the major source of information in this country is the village kongossa (gossip.) Still though, much of this misunderstanding is willful and propogated as a way to justify wrongdoings or to keep a level of power/privilege, like choosing to believe that if a woman has taken off her shoes, she's consented to sex. I'm beginning to wonder if I've lost my ability to be shocked by what people have to say, but I'm hoping that the world won't take that as a challenge to throw some new offensive curveball my way. Not so sure what I'm talking about? All of the statements below are things I've heard come out of my mouth in serious conversation, and I know a number of them are comments that volunteers across the country have to reiterate frequently.
"Michael Jackson is really dead, his death certificate wasn't faked, and he didn't move to an island secretly to avoid the paparazzi."
"Mangoes don't give you Malaria."
"Women CAN play soccer."
"No, really. There's poverty in America, too. It's not just people in Africa that suffer. People die of hunger in America, too, just not as often."
"AIDS wasn't an illness genetically engineered in America and sent over in condoms as a method of population control in Africa."
"Rape is still rape even if you aren't wearing shoes."
"President Obama may be black, but he is an American."
"Americans don't love to kill people, and there are a lot of Americans that don't love war."
"There are Muslims in American. There are Christians in America. Not everyone is religion-less."
"A 13 year-old female is still a child, not a woman."
In my last blog entry, I mentioned that I was about to head out to the West region to help another volunteer with her girls' camp. Well, that came and went. We trained 20 girls age 13-17 to serve as peer educators in their communities on healthy relationships, communication, puberty, and sexual health topics. For a week, we listened to every worry and misdirected rumor these girls had heard. Like American summer camps, the girls complained about cleaning latrines and limited cell-phone/electricity usage, counselors didn't get to sleep because the girls were chatting all night long, and the week concluded with girls presenting sketches that they'd created themselves. Unlike America, though, we ran out of water because girls were showering 3-4 times a day and the counselors were grumpily awakened at 5am to girls energetically running around the bunks to do each others hair and to find a place to privately shower outdoors (we had to restrict the shower facility after the girls trashed it with muddy shoes and clogged the drain.) All that said, it was amazing to see the growth in the girls--they left more confident in themselves as well as in their ability to stand up for their beliefs and rights. As for me, I left believing a little more strongly that Cameroon had a chance of development since parent after grandparent after administrator expressed their appreciation for training the girls, their desire to see the project continue, and their hope that the girls will positively use the information in their own lives.

It was in that climate that I came home to a friend of mine telling me that he was pursuing not just one 13 year-old girl, but two 13 year-old girls for marriage, one of whom would be ripped out of her family in Nigeria. This particular individual has a child older than the girls he's seeking for marriage. This desire to marry a child can't be blamed on social status or on education--he's a speaker at one of the local mosques, runs a fairly profitable business, has a university degree, and speaks 3 of the world's most predominant languages (English, Arabic, and French) as well as a number of local and regional languages. If there's anything more disheartening than this, I never want to hear it.

I'm trying to remind myself that change is coming and that more and more people are chosing marriages based on love and mutual consideration. Although it's been slow to hit West and Central Africa, feminism is coming and it will be a force to be reckoned with if the girls from the camp are any sign of the future. Normally in French I'd end that statement with "incha'allah" or "si Dieu permit" (God willing/If God permits, respectively,) but this isn't a question of God: this is a clear issue of human and social rights. There should be no question about God's will, government's role in creating a better world for women, or man's role in evening out the playing field.

Weighty subject? Yes. Important? Absolutely.

Lighter Notes:

Grant money is in and the work is commencing! We got back our original technician (Ebba Oundi) who I'd worked with last year on the soy and moringa field and now the two technicians will be splitting up the work and combining their expertise. I'm now more confident that this project will finish on time and with less drama (our other technician, Franklin, is in love with my post-mate.) There will be photos soon of the project as we get work going! Let the hole digging, brick making, and HIV teaching begin!!!

President Obama donated $7 BILLION DOLLARS to develop better electrical networks in Sub-Saharan Africa. Needless to say, this is huge. Villages that rely on generators may finally have access to actual electricity. Power outages will be less frequent: students will have better chance at success because they can study even if power's out, patients being treated in hospitals will be more likely to survive,etc. Positive opinions of America are SKYROCKETING as a result of this donation.

I met a Cameroonian on a bus recently who works for a religious group that deals with handicapped populations. He's passing me his personal research, gave me new resources to help me figure out better ways to intervene with the kids, and gave me the numbers of a couple of groups in Yaounde that I'd been trying to figure out how to contact.

I got to see a couple of close volunteer-friends recently and make some CRAZY GOOD American(ish) meals! Broccoli Alfredo? Yes please. And, found an awesome bakery in the country capital with real sandwiches!

My pantry back in Batouri is officially restocked with American goodies that are impossible to find in my region: peanut butter, Nutella, brown sugar, ground ginger. Life is good.

My fridge no longer closes without being tied shut, and it appears my ceiling has sprung a huge leak. But, at least there haven't been any unwanted animal visitors recently!

Ramadan should be starting this coming Monday or Tuesday. Check back soon for details about my adventures in trying to do a week of the fast! For anyone who's details about Ramadan are a little unclear: a required month of fasting for healthy individuals (no water/food from sun-up to sun-down) to purify and show devotion to God, ends in a day-long party of meal after meal after meal (here it's called Fete de Ramadan.)

Take care, everyone!

Bats, Blogs, Burns, and Byes

Behind every blog post I attempt to write is about 12 failed attempts. This entry alone is the third serious attempt to make a blog post happen. I start writing, and then power goes out for so long that the entry isn't relevant. I start writing, and then I get a phone call and need to run off to a meeting. I finish writing, and then I realize that the entry doesn't have a point, isn't interesting, or that I have a significantly better idea of what somebody might maybe want to read. I start writing, and I get bored and walk away. Now you all know the truth: I'm not just a bad blogger, but an undedicated one.

While I was trying to think about what I wanted to write, I looked at the blog's statistics--y'all are a sick bunch: the most popular entries have all been the ones with negative titles. What that tells me is that A) I have written more depressing blog entries than I realized (I love this country, I promise!) and B) I should probably start writing positive blogs with mis-leading titles like "Murderer on Main Street Kills 87 HIV+ Children Suffering from Dysentary!" in hopes of getting people to read it. Actually, scratch all of that, here's a better solution: tell me what you want to read about for the last five months of my service. What burning questions do you have about Batouri, about Cameroonian culture, how to deal with the electricity company when they stop giving you bills for four months? What's the one subject you feel I've left out consistently?
With that said, let's move right along....

If you're looking for action and adventure in this blog post, then look no further! Things that have happened this month in Batouri:

• 35% of the market burned down, making for a loss in over 2.000.000FCFA (about $4.000) in merchandise and cash that people had stored in their stands for "safe keeping" (few people believe in the reliability of banks in Cameroon since so many have failed Great Depression-style.) No progress has been made at rebuilding the market, so right now it's like a scavenger hunt to try and find your favorite market mommas. It's believed that the fire was caused by someone who failed to put out the fire they'd made to cook beans on for dinner. The fire began around 3am, and was stymied by a huge rainstorm that incidentally also flooded my living room. When I passed the market 12 hours later, there were still flames and smoke. Needless to say, Batouri does not have a fire department or fire insurance.
• I had a fruit bat in my house! His name was Matt. Sadly, he was bludgeoned to death by a particularly vengeful neighbor bearing my broom. Rest in peace, little buddy, you were a good two-day pet. As for the Green Mambas, no new ones recently! My new gardener has tamed the rainforest in my front yard, and I'm no longer the gossip of the neighborhood. Halleluiah.
• My friend's sheep had babies! They're adorable. Have I spent afternoons chasing them around the center of town attempting to hold them? Maybe.

Two weeks ago two friends of mine from training came out to visit, which was incredible! We went out to the Sacred Rocks with a picnic of tacos and boxed wine, and stayed out a few hours to stargaze. If you've ever heard stories about the night skies in Africa: they're not exaggerations. The skies look like they go on forever, stars look close enough to touch, and the shooting stars almost look like the might just crash into your little finger. So bizarre! Thanks again for the cookies, magazines, and visits, friends!!!!

I'm headed out to the West to help a volunteer with her girls' camp in her village this coming week. After four years of camp counseling girls in America, I'm really excited to see the differences in how these kids respond to being away from their families for a week. One thing is for certain: there won't be children at this camp sobbing about being forced to use a latrine or the limited access to electricity.  Or, maybe I'll be eating my words this time on Monday. Details to come. By the time I get back, our money should be arrived to start the work on our pisciculture project. But, in the mean time, I am sustained with the news that 65% of the primary school students in the handicapped youth association passed their grades in school and are moving up! In a society where it's considered totally normal that everyone fails at least one grade in their life, this is a huge success for us!!

In addition to fish farming, we've been doing some work to plan a series of HIV education murals throughout the region. Stop #1 for the project is Batouri. My post-mates and I have been scoping out locations, costs, and ways to transmit the messages. Some volunteers are bringing us old brushes and materials from America so that we'll be able to do the projects at as little cost as possible (meaning paint, tint, and some soap.) I'll keep you posted as we get the details arranged!

As a country, we're starting to say our Good-Byes to the training group before mine--mind-blowing! The two girls who met us in Bertoua during our site visits and showed us around are both on their ways out over the next month. Congratulations on finishing out your services, Michelle, Justine, and Andy!!!!

I think that's it for the moment. Keep me posted on what you want to hear, and I'll do my best to make it happen!

Silures and Kanga and Tiliapia, Oh My!

13 May 2013

About two years ago, I received that glorious, long-awaited package containing my invitation to join the Peace Corps. The memory is still vivid: I was sitting on the couch next to my Mom and our dog, and with hands shaking, I ripped open the envelope that I was convinced would hold the answers to all of my questions (it didn't.) My nerves were shooting through the roof as I searched the documents endlessly trying to figure out where I was being sent. I overlooked the big, bolded word CAMEROON on the first page, so thanks, Mama dearest, for pointing that out to me and putting all that anxiety to an end. Knowing very little about the country, the job I was being sent to do, or whether I was physically capable to handle all that this post would require of me, I unhesitatingly sent back an email that evening to confirm my acceptance as a member of the first ever class of Youth Development Coordinators in Cameroon.

Throughout the summer, I completed the barrage of things that Peace Corps asked us to do: personal statements, resumes, the Yellow Fever vaccine, and what-have-you. I read volunteer blogs, searched YouTube for videos that volunteers posted about their life in Cameroon, went shopping for all those materials that volunteers assured us were "crucial" for survival (they weren't,) and tied up my loose ends in America, confidently knowing that I'd be able to pick up my life exactly where I'd left it.

In retrospect, that was naive.

I remember hearing before I left that I was going to change more personally than I'd be able to change my community, but it never occured to me how much my "old bubble" would change while I was gone: deaths, terrorist attacks, engagements, graduations. When I eventually return, I won't be returning to the same America that I left. Likewise, I won't be returned to my family or friends in the same condition as I left. The longer I'm here, the more thankful I am to have such a strong base of support on all sides of the planet to support me through all of the dramas and successes that comprise a Peace Corps service. Packages, emails, letters, phone calls, monetary donations to projects: people have reached out consistently when I've needed it the most. There are no words for how appreciative I am, sappy as that might be.

There are also no words for my excitement at finding out our fish farming project has been officially selected for funding! After months of struggling and re-writing because of deadlines and agricultural seasons, my post-mate finally called me with the happy news. Mike and Melissa, I'm so proud of us!!!!!! Together, we're going to go share the good news to the association that we work with. The word "overjoyed" doesn't even come close to describing my emotions. What's a girl do to celebrate? Eat boiled green beans, onions, and green pepper while writing a blog post by candle-light. Yep, I'm celebrating pretty hard. I might even eat that leftover half of a pineapple from earlier....

Anyhow, the project will be hosted by the Amicale des Handicapes de la Kadey a Batouri, a group that works to elevate the status of handicapped/HIV+/orphaned/at-risk youth and adults through access to education, vocational training, and health-care. The group is lead by a woman named Pauline, who is truly one of the most dynamic and persistent people I've ever met; while she can be a high-stress personality, I've become a more patient, aware person because of knowing her. My work with Pauline started out as just teaching the kids at a weekly youth group, but our work together grown ever since.

Starting July, work to create our 3 fish ponds for Tilapia, Kanga, Silures, and Clariases will begin, and the work will be hefty. We hope to have all of the construction completed and the fish installed by November when Mike and I leave. Likewise, we'll be training youth on reproductive and sexual health topics in order to help them avoid contracting HIV, other sexually transmitted infections, and early pregnancy. Both youth and adults will be trained on fish farming (or, pisciculture, if you want the technical word) as an opportunity to gain a vocational skill.

There are a lot of things that have happened during my service that I'm proud of, and I've never regretted coming for a second. But, if this project actually succeeds, then I will be able to leave Batouri knowing that it's a better place than when I first arrived and not just superficially: whole families will be able to better nourish their children, more youth will have access to the hospital-care that they need, more preventative medications will be available to these families, and more children will be able to be enrolled in schools. The potential implications of this are far-reaching. Amazing, right?

I'll be sure to post more details soon as they become available. In the mean-time, I hope all of you go out and celebrate Batouri cluster's success with a large cup of ice cream (or large bowl of soup, if you're being health-conscious.)

Take care, everyone!

PS. Guess who found their second-ever Green Mamba in their house last week? Apparently the Cameroonian solution is to pour used diesel around the house and around the trees where they're frequently found. My friend gave me some diesel this morning, so keep your fingers crossed that this works for me!

Peace

Despite, or perhaps because of, the instability of Cameroon's neighboring countries, Cameroonians are quick to remind you that this is a country of peace. Considering all of the drama in Nigeria, Chad, the Congo, and the CAR, it's incredibly telling just how zealous people here safeguard the notion of peace. The Cameroonian president, Paul Biya, is known country-wide as a man of peace, and rhetoric pretty much dictates that at least once in every conversation you need to make the statement that "Le Cameroun est la paix," or some derivitive thereof. I've found myself in debates frequently about whether justice and righteousness are more important than peace; as it turns out, American's value peace in a whole different way than any Cameroonian I've ever met.

Cameroonians value peace as an essential quality for life, and become quickly embarrassed if the peace is compromised for any reason. Corruption is acceptable because it helps to keep the peace and stability of the country, the region, and the town. Although religion is an important part of the cultural values, religious values that promote justice are suppressed if they might be considered a justification to break the peace--whether either Islamic, Christian, or Animist. It's for this reason that a lot of times Cameroonians have a difficult time understanding American foreign policy and current events. Cameroonians are personally offended by the violence in America perpetrated by citizens; more than once, I've been told that they could never live in a country like America where people are free to create violence as they choose. All that said, though, despite our differences in beliefs, there's a feeling of mutuality and togetherness in the losses that America's suffered this year between the bombing at the Boston Marathon, school shootings, and the movie theater shooting. As Americans, we're at a critical decision-making time of how we want to respond and the kind of relationships we want to foster for the future.

It's easy for stereotypes and prejudice to fester after moments like this. The overarching goal of terrorism is to create fear to further the hatred, so it's important that rather than closing ourselves off from "the outside" and "the others," we keep reaching out and seeking to understand other people and places. In this country, most of my best friends are Muslim. We've watched the news together and worried about the future of the people and places affected by terrorism and discussed how religion is sometimes manipulated by people into a force for hatred. People have called me frequently to check and make sure all of my friends and family members are safe and to apologize for the fates that have befallen the American people. The Boston Marathon Terrorist Attack is a tragedy, but rather than shutting ourselves off from everone else, we need to try and open ourselves up to learning about others and creating understanding. There are bad Muslims. There are bad Christians. There are bad atheists. More importantly, though, there are incredible people belonging to each major faith group. We are all together in this fight, because whether we want to believe it or not, this is a fight that affects everyone worldwide.

That may all be seen as a soapbox, or as being out of line. Or, maybe not. Either way, though, let's move right along onto something a little less controversial.

Word's starting to hit us here that the new class of Peace Corps Cameroon Youth Development Volunteers has already started to receive their invitations. If you're one of them, congratulations!! I hope that as you read through the past (and future!) entries of this blog, you have a better understanding of the ups and downs of service; it won't always be easy, but it will always be worth it. Ideally, you should really, really, REALLY want to take over my post, as it's definitely one of the best places in the country. Or, something like that. The rest of y'all, well, thanks for staying with me this long and putting up with my relatively frequent soapboxes. I officially have dates for my Close of Service Conference: there is no denying that the end is coming.

Up until then, though, I'm staying busy both integration-wise and work-wise. I've been eating mounds and mounds and mounds and mounds of Couscous de Manioc and Koko (a green, peanut-based sauce with grass-like leaves in it.) Sound appetizing? Probably not, but, man, there's a good reason that people in Batouri tell you that once you've eaten Koko, you'll never want to leave again. I also finally made a seriously fabulous female friend one morning while buying eggs at the corner boutique. And, I finally made it out to visit the gold mines, which was a weird experience. I'll try and right a separate blog focusing just on that, but it was mind-blowing seeing the degree of environmental degradation and work conditions that people endure for such a small amount of gold. Work-wise, I'm staying busy with youth group, grant applications, and doing work on Women's Rights advocacy to prevent violence against women.

Right now, I'm in Yaounde. We just finished up our Youth Development Steering Committee meeting, and I'm headed up to Ngaoundere (the capital of the Adamaoua region) tomorrow night for our second Mid-Service training...which apparently is intended less to be informative than to be a giant publicity grabber. Tonight, I'm headed out to a concert being hosted by an NGO that works on Malaria awareness, prevention, and treatment.

Take care and stay safe!

Celerating Women's Day with some of my favorite little ladies!

Awareness seminar on Women's Rights and Violence Against Women in Ndelele, East Cameroon.

 

Rainforest in Kambele, a village just outside of where I live.

 

Scratch that: gold-mining in Kambele. Well, hello, there, Malaria, global warming, and environmental destruction. Everyday, these mines find more than 1.000 dollars worth of gold flakes per day, although there are also diamonds and sapphires in the area.

Michelle, one of the little girls I work with. She'd been in the hospital about 2 weeks ago following a fall in a latrine, but now she's back to being her ultra-sassy self.

The Suns and the Rains

5 March 2013

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.

All the Skills!

9 February 2013

There are a lot of useful, work-related skills you gain (or, at least, have the opportunity to gain) as a Peace Corps Volunteer. There are even more that really have nothing to do with the reality of what most of us live like and work like in America. With only 10-months left of service, I’ve been finding myself thinking a lot about the “logical next step” and how to get there from where I am right now. I’m a little out-of-shape in the department of résumé-making and job applications, but right now, mine is looking a little like this:

 

Stephanie Gasior

Youth Development Volunteer: Peace Corps, 2011-2013

B.P. 39 Batouri, East Region, Cameroon

 

·         Making Croissants and Pains au Chocolat

o    Volunteer is able to, with assistance and without the use of an oven or conventional tools, create edible, butter-filled deliciousness to be enjoyed at any hour of the day.

·         Filling Polypots

o    Volunteer quickly, knowledgably, and capably can fill polypots in preparation for Moringa Trees.

§  Volunteer can explain the benefit of Moringa Trees and distribute grown samples to a loud, pushing group of Host Country Nationals

·         Texting in French Abbreviations

o    Volunteer can effectively communicate a message through a short SMS by utilizing French abbreviations including “dmn,” “bjr,” and “ajd’hui.”

o    Volunteer can understand texting abbreviations and lingo…most of the time.

·         Using a Machete for Yard-Work

o    When time permits, volunteer is able to do her own yard-work with a machete without inflicting bodily injury to herself or others.

·         Reading Mercury Thermometers

o    When wondering if she’s sick, volunteer is able to clearly read and clear a mercury thermometer in either Celsius or Farenheit.

·         Explaining the Purpose of the Electoral College

o    In either French or English, volunteer is able to explain the function and purpose of the Electoral College while maintaining that the existence of an Electoral College does not annul the American democratic system.

·         Making Tofu

o    Given certain materials including soy beans and vinegar, volunteer is able to create tofu adhering to the taste sets of both Americans and Cameroonians as well as to preach to the importance of protein for youth and pregnant women.

·         Saying “No” to Marriage Proposals

o    Without being phased, volunteer is able to say “NO!” to marriage proposals including by asking horrendous dowries, explaining that she’s already married to numerous men, explaining the importance of love in a marriage, explaining the demanding nature of American women, ignoring the question, and forcefully responding in the negative.

·         Eating Food with Hands

o    Without the use of utensils, volunteer can quickly clean all fish-meat from bones. Volunteer successfully uses couscous of a types (except corn when avoidable) to mop up sauces of all types without making too much of a mess out of herself.

§  Volunteer has retained the ability to use a fork and spoon when necessary, and excels at using knives when cutting food out of the palm of the hand rather than on a plate or flat service.

·         Early Morning Productivity

o    With or without the aid of early-morning rooster crowing, volunteer is able to drag herself out of bed early, make coffee, eat breakfast, work-out, shower, plan/schedule five different work meetings, and finish all her shopping at the market before nine-thirty am.

·         Riding Motorcycles

o    Volunteer is able to strap on a helmet, mount a motorcycle from the left side, give directions loudly from underneath a helmet, dismount from the left side, and pay a moto-taxi-man the correct fare.

·         Using a Bucket-Flush Toilet or Pit Latrine

o    Volunteer has mastered the use of all forms of toilets and latrines.

·         Hand-Washing Jeans

o    Without the use of a brush or other abrasive surface, volunteer can hand-wash a pair of jeans to be cleaner than the washing machine at the office in Yaounde.

·         Cleaning Vegetables

o    Volunteer knows and practices proper vegetable-cleaning methods including bleaching, scrubbing, and peeling. When boiling, volunteer actually lets the water come to a boil.

·         Waiting Patiently

o    Volunteer is able to calmly sit through long, repetitive work meetings as well as breakdowns on the side of the road without compromising personal opinions on timeliness or being prepared for inevitabilities.

Other non-descript skills: tearing into packages in about 4 seconds flat, cleaning and preparing beans, washing dishes, holding babies, entertaining small children with weird facial expressions, organizing coloring books, avoiding bush meat

Yep, hear that sound? Those are all the job offers for a new age, politically-minded chef/house-keeper rolling in. So many practical job skills!

I should say that I feel like I’ve gained practical, marketable skills, too, and that I actually have an idea of what the “next step” is, which I didn’t before I came here. But, it’s been these more un-tangible, un-marketable skills that have defined my experience and pushed my boundaries. There’s training for work, partners on the ground to teach you along the way, and resources to consult that can help you define your work, but the only way to learn how to deal with going without (insert favorite American good here,) or to learn to manage a household, or to be comfortable in your own skin is to learn through your individual experience. It’s been almost seventeen months in Cameroon, fourteen of which I’ve been living as one of three or four Americans in a city of 40,000 Cameroonians. Those experiences can’t be boiled down to a short bullet-point on a piece of paper, they become a part of a person. And that’s where I am now, trying to figure out what the niche in the American job market is for a cockroach-killing, bean-sorting, fidelity-encouraging, female French-speaker….

Lucky Number '13 (hopefully!)

1 January 2013

Today is a momentous one. After years and years of trying, I finally entered into my uncharted territory. If you’re expecting a profound statement about cultural diversity or work, you’re about to be massively disappointed. But, I finally achieved a ridiculous life goals I set for myself years ago on a bored Saturday afternoon: I beat Spider Solitaire on Difficult Mode. I attribute this win to my friend Ali who sent me a text this morning to wish that 2013 brings me all that past years have refused me. First choice? Maybe not, but it still feels weirdly exciting. Thanks, universe!

The last time I wrote, I was not in the best place mentally. Things have gotten better, but I’m still glad that I wrote a blog post from that perspective. I always feel guilty talking about the negatives because I don’t want people to think terrible things about Cameroon or the Peace Corps, but it’s also unrealistic to paint a picture from only the rose-colored glasses side of life. It’s liberating, and I’m going to try harder to keep things balanced. Consider that my New Year’s Resolution if you’re into that kind of thing.

With it being the opening of 2013, it seems high time to have a chat about holidays and parties, especially considering that last night I went to the strangest New Year’s Eve party of my life. Last year, I arrived just before Christmas and New Year’s and I spent both of them with Americans in towns that weren't my own.  This holiday season, I’m a year in. Nowadays, I can actually communicate, I’m more socially adept in the Cameroonian context, I spent both holidays “in village,” and have apparently gained a reputation in government circles for being tougher than a boulder. After a full day of grinning ear to ear because of all the wishes of “Bon année!” and “Bonne fête!,” it’s time to address some of what I’ve learned the past two weeks.

Ten Things I Learned This Holiday Season

1)       If you ever are invited to do a  Secret Santa exchange with a group of Cameroonians, especially social heavy-weights (“Grands,”) acceptable gifts include Chanele No. 5 Paris Parfum from the People’s Republic of China, gaudy silver and pastel blue clocks, tee-shirts, and porcelain plates. Giving bottles of wine or baked goods à la America would be a social faux pas.

2)       You can bake some pretty killer cookies without an oven. Sugar cookies baked in a skillet? Don’t mind if I do!

3)       If you are at a New Year’s Party hosted by a priest, expect to be awkwardly herded into Mass just before midnight, and no, it doesn’t matter that everyone at the party is already buzzed. Also, you’re going to have to read a confusing French Bible verse with words you’ve never seen before in front of everyone. Good luck.

4)       Normally, at Cameroonian functions, you can expect everyone to be a half hour to an hour late. This is not true at the holidays: everyone will be about 3.5 hours late. This gives you sufficient time to eat all the fish heads, chicken necks, and hunks of cow fat…or the many other actual delicious things on the holiday spread. Your choice.

5)      Complaints about holiday weight gain are not just an American thing. In a country that generally views weight-gain as a fantastic thing, even Cameroonians are complaining about the weight that they’ve put on. I may have gorged myself on American food while other volunteers were in Batouri to celebrate with us, but at least every Cameroonian in town feels the same way about themselves. Zero guilt. This was a well-celebrated season!

6)       There is no direct translation for “reindeer” in Cameroonian French. Rudolph is now a red-nosed antelope. Luckily, Cameroonian Christmas music is actually only church music, and the only New Year’s music that I’ve heard repeats “Bon année, Bon année, Bon année-o, Bon année!” the entire song. I may never get it out of my head ever again. Pray you never have to celebrate a new year with me in the future.

7)       When preparing to go out to a Cameroonian party, you need to leave your American self behind. Cameroonian women who are “out” in the social world are divas. You have the option of wearing something uncomfortably tight, low-cut, leopard printed, blinged out, or any combination thereof. The more make-up you wear, the more respected you will be, as evidenced by the trend of plucking off your eyebrows and replacing them with a thin line of painted on liquid liner. Your hair should be a perfectly coiffed expression of your personality.* Shaving is considered a violation of all that is natural, normal, and beautiful. Reason number 484856 that it’s difficult to make female friends in this country.

8)      There is always room for another surprise. Always. Stop trying to prepare for it, because there’s always going to be someone who does something, someone who has something, or something that just happens for no reason. You can’t control it, it just is what it is.

9)      In “Happy New Year” text messages, it’s customary to wish two to three specific things that you hope for each person. My wish this year for all my workaholic friends in town is tranquility. For all you on the other side of the planet, I hope that 2013 brings you peace, conviction, and the strength to make it through all that life throws your way.

10)    You get what you pay for: you can treat your friends like bad Chinese sandals that last for two weeks, or you can treat them like a rare pair of American tennis shoes that will survive everything the world has to throw at you. When you treat someone like family, you’ll get it back when you need it the most. You’re only as alone as you let yourself be. This holiday season, I’m thankful to have everyone back at home as well as a family of volunteers and Cameroonian friends to help get me through it all.

So, lucky number 2013. I’ve got a good feeling about this one. After all, if I’ve finally won a round of Spider Solitaire on difficult, who knows what magic tomorrow may bring?

*My hair was done today by a team of 6 different 2-7 year olds. I’m pretty sure about a quarter of what I used to have was ripped out in the process. If my hair is an expression of my personality, my personality must be chaotic and going in all different directions. I work with the best kids on this side of the Atlantic, it’s official.