The ideas expressed below are not endorsed by or representative of the U.S. Peace Corps.

Also, I'm aware that "obviousment" is technically not an officially accepted French word.

Sunday, December 29, 2013

Never Too Young for Nostalgia

Things are going well here at Upstation, and I'm beginning to think that my integration here is a very real possibility. But for this post I want to instead talk about the year that was 2013 (the abbreviated version) and how humbled I am by the number of things that have worked out well this year. 

Midwinter ball stylin'
A year ago, some of my college friends and I hatched an elaborate New Years Eve plan centered around Milwaukee, WI. One of our recently graduated friends was (and still is) living there working with College Possible, and we all thought it would be fun to ring the new year in there before heading back to Northfield for winter term. So my roommate Laura and I flew out to Milwaukee and some of our friends set out by car from Colorado. It turns out that Colorado is pretty far from Milwaukee, and they weren't slated to arrive there until almost a full day after us. So after Laura and I arrived in Milwaukee we made the suggestion to cut their drive by a few hours and meet instead in Northfield. I don't know what NYE in Milwaukee looks like, but I have no regrets as to this decision. I got to ring in the New Year with some of my favorite people in the place that had become my home these past few years, and it was exactly the kind of celebration I wanted. And the New Years Day that followed was a winter vacation filled with hot cocoa and Ice Kuub. What more could you want? But as Rivers and Roads, my favorite song by The Head and the Heart promises, "a year from now, we'll all be gone, all our friends will move away". The people that I spent NYE 2013 with are currently scattered across the globe, in California, Wisconsin, Connecticut, China, and even a few still in Northfield. They're quite a bunch and I'm missing them like crazy. But more on that later. 

Sometimes finals got a little rough.
I think all of the people with whom I celebrated last year were well aware that this would be an important year for us. We all (or at least most of us) graduated from college and headed off to pursue new challenges. And while I knew in December 2012 that I would most likely be celebrating this year's NYE across the globe, I definitely didn't know about all the times that my life would change between then and now. I ended up deciding to graduate from Carleton a trimester early without any real plan of how to spend those 10 weeks. I knew that I wanted to stay in Northfield and celebrate all that is spring term (little did I know that there would be no spring this year in Minnesota), but that was as far as my plan went. Enter Richard, who told me about an AmeriCorps job based in Northfield that was slated to end in October. Perfect. By the time all was said and done, the job was at Faribault High School working with the academic support and college access programs. And after a marathon spring break road trip that included upwards of 13 states, my first speeding ticket, wild horses, Colonial Williamsburg, the extend Silver clan, and an exchange of co-pilots, I began my first post-college job. I can't say I ever see myself working in education long-term, but it was the perfect way to transition out of my life as a student and into the role of (essentially) a volunteer. I met some incredible students that showed me a new perspective on life in Rice County, and I surely learned more from them than they ever learned from me. Many of them were recent Somali refugees and were still adjusting to life in Minnesota. A notable moment was when as I attempted to explain my vegetarian lifestyle, one of my students looked at me in disbelief and asked "Does that mean you don't eat camel?!?" 

Minnesota love.
And even though I wasn't attending classes at Carleton anymore, I was still able to have some college fun, and there's no time like spring term for fun. My friends and I danced to Smash Mouth in the cold at Spring Concert, progressed across campus and town, and drove to Madison and back in one day to watch our friends compete in the National College Ultimate Finals. We donned corsages for prom, relaxed on the Bald Spot, and played our final games of True American for a while. And then it was over. They handed us our diplomas, we sung the alma mater, and then we processed through a tunnel formed of our professors into our lives as college graduates. And as much as I have my friends to thank for keeping me going through many of the challenges that college brought, the biggest thank-you of all belongs to my parents, who really made my graduation from Carleton possible. I know that they might sometimes wish that I had chosen a post-graduate path a little closer to home and I am incredibly grateful that they supported me throughout the process leading up to my departure and continue to encourage me (and send me care packages!) from afar. 

Senior week playtime. Who are these fools?
My job in Faribault was slated to continue throughout the summer and morphed a few times as the school year ended and summer programming came and went. A summer highlight was my first road trip out west, when Teddy and I  headed out to Yellowstone by way of the Corn Palace, Mt. Rushmore, Crazy Horse, Wind Cave National Park, and more bison than I could count. I ate my first huckleberry bar and got mistaken for a motorcyclist for the first time. (Here that happens on an almost daily basis.) But sooner than I would have liked, it was time to leave my life in the Midwest and head back to the East Coast. Luckily, that also meant that it was time for two of my favorite weeks of the year at Camp AmeriKids. The people that I meet there have amazed me for the past two years, and this summer was no exception. I have them to thank for encouraging me to dream big and be open to the possibility of miracles. 
America's a pretty cool place. 
The time between camp and Cameroon passed in something of a blur-a month that only felt like a week or two. I spent as much time as possible with family and friends and somehow attempted to prepare both logistically and mentally for this new life step. it turns out that packing for two years in a new part of the world is an adventure it it of itself. And then the next thing I knew, it was September 11th and time to head to Philadelphia. And (if you've been following along) you know the highlights since then. I met some incredible people that are going through this with me (albeit throughout the country). We made it through training and life with our host families together. And then we swore in as Volunteers and headed to our posts. So that's where I am now, a month into life as Volunteer and amazed that 2013 has come and (almost) gone. 

And as for 2014? I have high hopes for how it will turn out, although I can't possibly dream of another year filled with the amount of changes and love that 2013 brought. I'm settling into my role as a new community member, and have a lot still left to learn both professionally and culturally to maximize my time here. But Upstation is already feeling like home and I know that time will only bring me more comfort with my neighborhood and my life here. And I want to thank all my family and friends (near and far) for sticking with me throughout this crazy year. It turns out that we're never too young for nostalgia, and I'm missing you all and the times that we shared terribly. But wherever the past year has brought you, I hope this next year is filled with smiles, laughs, and more than your fair share of adventures (if that's your thing). And I'd love to hear how things are going, so send me an update whenever you get the chance. 

TL,DR: 2013 was pretty great and I'm looking back fondly. Only time will tell what 2014 will bring, but I'm looking forward to what it has in store.


P.S. Yesterday I bought a Babar towel outside Main Market. Some days Bamenda is a great place. 


New friends made across the world!

My friends and I worked Reunion and got
a glimpse of our lives as Carleton alums!


Sunday, December 22, 2013

On Expectations and Realities


I don't know if any of you have ever applied for the Peace Corps, but those of you that have know how little say in the decision-making process each applicant has. I had jokingly decided that I would be posted with Peace Corps Fiji, (little did I know that Fiji apparently cancelled their Environment program a while ago and this wasn't even a remote possibility) even though I had been told relatively early on in the process that I would be posted somewhere French speaking. And even when I received my assignment for Cameroon I did relatively little research about the country that I would be spending the next two years. I'm pretty sure that up until the day I left, my dad knew far more about this place than I did.

It's kind of funny how little say we as PCVs have in determining how two years of our lives are spent. I certainly didn't pick Cameroon, and even though I did list Upstation Bamenda as my top choice on the preference sheet that we filled out, I did so knowing next to nothing about this place (in my defense, doing research during stage was much tougher than it had been in America). And despite all that, I'm doing just fine here. Today I saw a couple of volunteers from my stage for the first time in a month. I do have pretty frequent contact with other PCVs, but this was the first time I had seen anyone from my stage other than TJ, who is posted quite close to here. So it was really interesting to hear how things are going for my friends posted in a different part of the country after our first month after at post. 

We met at PresCafe, the closest thing we have to an American style restaurant. It's a pretty incredible place-my standby has become the caprese pasta salad with feta and a paw-paw (papaya) smoothie. Of course, PresCafe is still in the craziness that is Commercial Avenue (in the craziness that is Bamenda), but it's a nice refuge and I'm lucky to have it nearby. But to my friends, PresCafe was an unbelievable haven and lightyears away from their lives in village filled with fufu and eru (I think it's a leafy green stewed with pepe, but I've never seen it here). I certainly didn't come to the Peace Corps thinking that I would be living the way I do now; my neighborhood is considered to be one of the fancy parts of town and I live quite close to the governor. My apartment has relatively consistent electricity and running water, and I don't think I'll ever have this much space to myself again.
It's not fair to try to compare Peace Corps experiences, but I couldn't help but think how different our lives have become in such a short time. Both Julia and Val are Health volunteers, and have been assigned to local health centers that they have already begun reporting to each day. Meanwhile, I'm still trying to get my feet on the ground with Heifer and frantically try to learn about agroforestry in the meantime. And they're both posted less than a day's travel from me-my friends in the North and Adamawa regions are without a doubt faced with issues and successes quite different from mine. 

I certainly didn't come to the Peace Corps thinking that I would be living the way I do now; my neighborhood is considered to be one of the fancy parts of town and I live quite close to the governor's residence. My apartment has relatively consistent electricity and running water, and I don't think I'll ever have this much space to myself again. And when I really get a craving for Lucky Charms, all I have to do is head back to Commercial Avenue and resign myself to paying 3200 CFA (just over $6). I've never considered myself much of a city person, and it's a little strange that my first real experience with urban commuting has been in Cameroon. But the cool part of my lunch with my stage-mates was how happy all of us seemed with our assignments. Each post has something different to offer, and I think all of my friends have been great about looking for the highlights of our situations. We do have to live here for the next two years, so we might as well enjoy it. A few weeks ago, just after we got to our posts I exclaimed to one of my friends from stage that I had been given the perfect post. She corrected me, telling me that no, I had been assigned the perfect post for me. Time will tell if that description holds, but it's nice to hear that my friends are doing well scattered throughout the country.

In other news, I visited the Cameroonian equivalent of the State Fair today. It was the Northwest Agricultural Expo, and was filled with farmers showcasing their crops and livestock, with prizes being awarded in each category. I met a local beekeeper who invited me to come check out his beehives (apparently they're in the bush?) and ate some local "ice cream" that came in a little plastic pouch. There were even women standing proudly around their prize-winning vegetables, which was a nice reminder of life back in the Midwest. Unfortunately, no prizes were awarded for "largest squash" or "best seed art" (no seed art at all!) and it was severely lacking in terms of available sweet corn or Giant Slides. But there was enough fried food to go around, and a great opportunity to see a cross-section of the Cameroonian agricultural industry. I even was able to find some brown rice to purchase, something that I had previously thought was unavailable in this country. It was even grown in Ndop, the site of our mini-excursion last weekend. A highlight of the visit was when I tried to buy some honey from one of the competitors (not my beekeeping friend). I asked for a sample, as my friend Katie has introduced me to the complexities of honey and the differences that come from bees that have pollinated various plants. She informed me that she had no sampling sticks (of course), which I took to mean that sampling wasn't a possibility. I laughed at myself for thinking it might be. But then she unscrewed the cap and told me to stick out my finger. Sticky, but yum. (I bought it. Banana pancakes with honey tomorrow). Maybe it wasn't that similar to the State Fair after all.

Other exciting recent developments: I finally purchased a mop and broom this afternoon. Talk about a long time coming (today marks a month at post!). I caught myself smiling as a swept up this evening. Terrifying. And the hot water coil saga continues: today I partially melted my plastic bucket that I heat water in with my new(!) heater. It never ends.

TL,DR: It was cool to see how happy my friends are at posts that are so different from mine, and got me thinking about the different directions my life could have taken as a Peace Corps Volunteer, even in Cameroon. For a lifestyle that none of us had much of a say in, it's nice to see how adaptable everyone is so far and learn about the different ways of life in this country.

P.S. I have been dashed a coconut on two separate occasions in the past two days. It definitely doesn't feel like the holiday season here. 

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Driving Misadventures and Ostriches!


As of early last week, I felt kind of like I had hit a plateau in terms of integrating into my new community. Creating a life for yourself in a new place turns out to be a pretty interesting process composed primarily of gradual inclines but interspersed with steep accomplishments. I was worried that I had kind of fallen into a rut with my integration, and that my life would just kind of stay the same for the foreseeable future. And my worries were compounded by my lack of progress on the work front. My stage-mates and I joined our communities at an interesting time of the year in terms of work-we got here in late November and it seems like a lot of offices go on break for the last two weeks of the year or so. I can only speak for the Bamenda region, but people here are primarily Christian and celebrate Christmas in a big way. So I wasn't too optimistic about getting anywhere on the work front before the holidays and decided to just introduce myself to potential work partners before break begins.
And it took three visits, but I finally got to meet the country director for Heifer International Cameroon. And on my fourth visit I even got to meet one of my work counterparts and begin to set expectations. So more to come on the Heifer front, but it's good to know the ball is rolling on that front.
Speaking of balls, I had my first tennis lesson last week. There have been quite a few "am I still in the Peace Corps?" moments in the past few weeks, but the hour that I spent on the court was one of the most pronounced. There are definitely some advantages to having a city at my fingertips, and the tennis court and resident tennis pro are definitely two of them. Given that I'm not going to really be learning another language during my time here, I figured I might as well come home with a new skill.
This past weekend was filled with adventures and some pretty high-quality steps towards integration. I spent Saturday with Cynthia, Eric, a Cameroonian Eric, and the newest American to come to Bamenda, Edith. We headed up to Ndop, a subdivision about an hour away. Or, it's an hour away if everything goes right. This being Cameroon, actual travel time is usually double the expected, and this trip was no exception. About 20 minutes into our trip, we stopped for gas and continued on our way. That is, until a few kilometers up the nearest hill, when the car sputtered and quit. It turned out that the gas station attendant had filled the car with petrol (diesel) instead of gas, and terrible things were happening to the inside of the car. I know pretty much nothing about how cars worked, and was pretty oblivious to the severity of the situation. My postmates informed me of the necessary steps to right the problem and the unlikeliness that we would be able to continue our adventure. It must be said that this was a completely unnecessary problem to encounter (as Eric said of the gas station attendant "he has one job!") but I have to give the auto "mechanics" of Bambui some credit for fixing the problem remarkably quickly (two hours or so…). This is especially impressive if you know that the first step towards solving the problem involved a man crawling under the car and banging on some part with a big rock (was he hoping to drain out the fuel that way?) right in front of a lumberyard. But we continued on and eventually made it to Ndop, where we visited a tea plantation/menagerie of sorts. The whole experience was a little unsettling and involved chimpanzees, boa constrictors, and ostriches. Our Cameroonian friends were much more in awe of the animals than we were, but it was a beautiful drive and nice to spend a day away from Bamenda with friends. And the evening brought a long-overdue opportunity to show off my skills at the game of Set. A big thank-you to all of my TB friends-turns out all of those hours finally paid off.
That would have been enough adventuring for me for the weekend, but I had promised my friend Bridget that I would accompany her women's group (the Unique Sisters) to greet the new fon (chief) of their village. An interesting cultural note: fons do not die, they merely "go missing". The reason for our visit was that the old fon had gone missing and had been replaced by one of his sons, and the Unique Sisters wanted to formally introduce themselves to him. I'm not sure if I heard this right, but as far as I understand, the new fon will always be a son that is born after his father becomes the fon, and often is born to a second (or later?) wife of the fon. Polygamy is legal in Cameroon, and is almost always practiced by tribal leaders.
Anyway, I have changed in many ways since coming to Cameroon, but there are certain parts of my character that have very much remained the same. My lack of timeliness definitely falls into this second category-Bridget and I arrived late to the palace and missed the formal introduction to the fon, coming just in time for refreshments and gossip among the women. Luckily, there was another group that came in after us so I was able to observe the introduction protocol. And then the fun began, when both groups danced for the fon. I was never known in America for my dancing ability, and this is another thing that has unfortunately remained very much the same. I gave it my best shot, but all of the women very much knew all of the moves, and I very much did not. In addition, they had all come in matching uniforms, and I don't have one. Needless to say, it was easy to pick me out of the crowd. But all of the women were incredibly welcoming, and I look forward to attending more Unique Sisters events during my time here.
When I came home, I was proud of my work towards integration for the day and was a little exhausted from all of the weekend's excitement. But my neighbors next door were all playing jumprope (girls) and soccer (boys), and I've been wanting to join them ever since I moved in. Today was that day, and I headed over to join in on some jumprope fun. My French is still pretty rough (and they're all Francophone), but it was really fun and I again felt really welcomed.
After the games were over, I decided that was enough. I needed some time alone and went up to get some supplies for dinner. But when I came back, my landlady/neighbor stopped me and invited me over for dinner. She and her family have been very accommodating and friendly ever since I came, and I couldn't bring myself to refuse. But luckily, she prepared a dish that was far too spicy for me and I took a few bites and was quickly excused from the rest of the meal. Unripe bananas and dried fish sauce-definitely not something I've ever seen stateside. And I don't even want to talk about the amount of fried grasshoppers that I saw being eaten today-literally unacceptable. Turns out that's really a big thing here.
Peace Corps Volunteers are encouraged to have secondary work projects in addition to their primary ones, and I was hoping that mine could be some sort of work at the local high school. Many government high schools are bilingual, which means that there are two sections-one taught in English and the other in French. It does not mean that students typically receive instruction in both, which is what I had previously assumed and was disappointed to learn was not true. But after a few initial visits during the past two weeks, I headed back today for another meeting with the Form 2 chemistry teacher who had been my previous contact and whose class I had sat in on last week. Unfortunately, I hadn't been told that this week was "rascal week", when teachers often don't show up for their classes, as all of the exams have already been given. It turns out that teachers will sometimes miss their own classes in order to have time to grade papers, and I observed this firsthand this afternoon. When I showed up to observe again, I was faced with a teacher-less classroom and a lot of students without any kind of assignments to do. It should be said that I have no classroom teaching experience, (although I did audit Methods of Teaching Science this past winter!) but I didn't want the students to just sit around and cause trouble. So I gave it my best shot and we struggled through a review of balancing equations. The students were actually much better behaved that I would have expected, given that my presence is very much still a novelty on campus and I'm planning to head back on Wednesday. Hopefully their actual teacher will be back and I can just help as needed, but I'm not too optimistic on that front.
TL,DR: Last week finally brought some progress on the Heifer front, and this weekend finally included some outings. There was a menagerie, a male cat named Lady Grantham, and lots of palm wine. Only time will tell how this week can possibly compare.
P.S. For anyone that remembers my misadventures with my hot water coil, they continued this morning when I found part of the prong stuck in the socket from the last time I used it. Needless to say, it's something of a lost cause and needs to be replaced already. There's nothing quite like the quality control in this country…

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Birthday Avocados and Lucky Charms

Yesterday I was dashed an avocado. Dash, meaning "give" is one of the few Pidgin words that I've retained but is turning out to be surprisingly relevant. Early on in training we were told that Cameroon is very much a gift-giving culture, but before coming to post, I had only seen the other side of it. That is, every time I left my host family's house for more than a few hours they would ask me to bring them something upon my return. Or the man hanging out next to the market mama would ask us to buy his bananas in addition to our own. I found the whole thing a little unsettling and rude and didn't understand it at all. But then I came to my new village and began to see that the dash (or, in Francophone, "cadeau") culture is very much two-sided. When I would go to the beans and puff-puff (beignet) mama, she would routinely slip in one more puff-puff than I ordered. One time I was shopping in town when the Volunteer I was with demanded dash, specifying that he would like one red pen and one blue pen as dash for the planner that he was purchasing. I was stunned. Isn't demanding a present kind of…rude? But then I started to try it on my own. When I went to shop for vegetables at food market, I asked for dash when I was purchasing my cucumbers. Next thing I knew, I had received a bell pepper to go along with my cucumber and a surprised smile from the market mama. It looks like one small step towards integration is to demand dash with purchases. But of course, not always. I'm not that integrated yet. But back to the avocado. It was a present from the mama who I sometimes buy breakfast, and was one of the highlights of my day. A place where people give me avocados? Sounds like a pretty ideal spot for me. And to be fair, it was only 50 francs (10 cents), but that's okay with me too. Guacamole (or, as my neighbors call it, puree) every day!

 My main event this weekend included attending a women's group hosted by friend Bridget. Starting one of the first times that I saw Bridget a few weeks ago, she had told me about this meeting and how I would help her prepare food to serve during it. As it turned out I wasn't really able to help her cook (I just don't yet have the necessary skills for a meal of that importance) but I did attend the meeting. I'm sure there are many different types of Cameroonian women, but I have mainly been exposed to powerful, self-assured ones. This meeting was no exception, and I quickly found myself in a room with 13 empowered women, all of whom were wearing matching outfits. Of course. Truthfully, I didn't understand much of what was said during the course of the meeting. My Pidgin is nowhere near good enough to catch it all. But I do know that there was some sort of savings group that went on, as well as a discussion of rental chairs and plates. And we're going to meet the fon (traditional chief) this next Sunday. And yes, I said we. The assumption was that since I had been present during the meeting, I would of course join them on their trip to the fon's palace as well. In case you're interested, we'll be bringing some sort of yellow soup with meat in it (achu), two bags of salt, and a jug of palm wine. And the outfits will make another appearance. It's too bad I won't have one to match. But it does speak to the welcoming culture of Cameroonians, and their willingness to introduce an outsider to their culture. It could have been really hard for me to live in this neighborhood, as I'm definitely an anomaly here. I haven't met anyone else who lives alone, nor have I met any other Americans. But my neighbors have been more than hospitable, and most of them stop me on the road to ask about my day and ask how I slept (that's a major question here). Just this weekend I was invited into my next-door neighbor's home, and offered a full meal and soda in addition to being presented with photo albums after photo albums of the entire family. And I've been informed that it's rude to try to refuse any offered food or drink. This country is going to take its toll on my body. But it was really nice to meet my neighbors and I've definitely felt more comfortable walking past their house each day knowing that I'm welcome to stop and joke around with the children. Hopefully I'll get to know them much better as my time here extends, and (as my dad once wrote a letter saying) it's always nice to know that your neighbors are looking out for you.

Another fun excursion last week was to the local cattle market. Most villages of Cameroon have a weekly (or once-every-8-days) market day, and Upstation Bamenda is an exception of sorts. It turns out that we're too close to Bamenda Food Market to justify an additional traveling market, and that my neighbors just go into town to do their shopping. But we do have the weekly cattle market, and given that I'm theoretically here to work with cows (and their respective people) I thought I should check it out. So Bridget and I set out Thursday morning to see what all the fuss was about. And to be honest, it was exactly as described. It was kind of like a cross between a rodeo and a regular market, with all of the cows (and their herders? cowboys?) in a big fenced in area. We were informed that the entrance fee was 500 francs (1 dollar) per head, but humans could get in free. And I was invited to come check out the cows by more than one herder, one of whom explained that I could send the animal back to my family as a Christmas gift. So sorry that I ruined the surprise on that one… But it turned out that we had made a mistake in coming in the morning, as the fun really begins after all the transactions have been made. A cow can sell for 500,000 francs ($1,000), so after his cows have been sold a given rancher (if that's the right term) has quite a bit of disposable income. And in Cameroon, money made is money ready to be spent. So there is lots of eating and drinking that goes on in the afternoon. I guess we'll have to go back to see how it all goes down. But my life isn't completely composed of random fun excursions (although I did manage to fit in another latke-making session with PCVs Cynthia, Eric, and Tommy to close out Hanukkah. It was a cultural exchange!) On the work front, I've actually started making some slow progress. One of my favorite parts of Peace Corps so far is that they encourage us to take the first three months at post settling in and introducing ourselves to our community members. I've definitely been trying to do that (as my attendance at a three-hour meeting that I had no role in hopefully speaks to) but I've been getting a little restless. There are only so many books that a girl can read in such a short time span (my current recommendation is Half the Sky, by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn), and I wanted to start finding some more tangible ways to get involved here. I've tried to be careful not to make commitments to projects, but so far I've introduced myself to administrators at the local high school as well as one of my potential coworkers at Heifer International. It turns out that I even have my own office at Heifer, which is definitely a little unsettling. But I'm going to try to put it to good use, and I've been learning a little bit about the current work that Heifer is doing with biogas and improved cookstoves. More news to come on that front as I learn about the project.

And a confession: TJ and I were grocery shopping last week in one of the American-style stores in Bamenda. And I like to think that I've been doing a pretty good job of cooking using ingredients that are generally available locally. I eat a lot of eggs, tomatoes, onions, green beans, and pineapples(!). But while we were shopping I saw that they had Lucky Charms for sale, and I caved in a big way. In America, I don't think I ever bought Lucky Charms. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I said at least once that I don't like them and am a pretty die-hard Honey Bunches of Oats fan (with Almonds, obviously). But here, they're the best thing that I've bought since coming getting to post. It's a little unsettling. This country changes you, that's for sure. And one last note: today’s my 22nd birthday, and it’s a little strange to be celebrating so far from home. So far I was able to continue the annual phone call for my shared birthday window with Holly, and we’ll see how the day progresses from here. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22.

TL,DR: The dash/cadeau culture here is a funny surprise, and I could see myself getting to like it. It's basically sharing with another name, and that's definitely my jam. I'm starting to expand my web a little bit (or explore my pasture, if the analogy holds). And it turns out that Lucky the Leprechaun (if that's really his name) has made it to Cameroon!

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Settling in and Celebrating Thanksgiving!

It's officially the holiday season now, I guess. Thanksgiving is behind us (more on that later), and December has begun. If this had been anything like the past few years, I would be back home for winter break in Westchester bundled up in sweaters and cords, preparing to head to work at a local gift store and listen to Christmas music all day long. As much as I enjoyed that, I'm currently sitting on my balcony in shorts and a t-shirt listening to music of my own choosing (currently The Head and the Heart's new album-shout out to Teddy for sending that over). During college my school always gave us the entire month of December off, so I should be used to unstructured time this time of year. But my new life here takes unstructured time to a whole new level. The Peace Corps pretty much gives you the first three months at post to just get settled into your new communities and begin the long process of integrating. I've been living in my village for just over a week now and have been taking things pretty slowly. I've never lived alone before, and that itself is something of an adjustment, especially since I spent the past two months living with seven other people at my host family's house. Things are just so…quiet. And clean. I've never considered myself to be that much of a neat person, but (unless you're Laura) there's only so much mess that one person can make. My new apartment has two bedrooms, a big living room, a kitchen and two balconies. I'm currently sitting on the balcony that looks out over the mountainside surrounding Bamenda, which is my favorite place in the whole apartment. There are cows grazing in the distance and from right here, life is pretty great. Because of the timing of Thanksgiving and coming to post, I actually didn't spend that much time in my village in the past week. When you come to post, one of the ways that you're supposed to spend your first few weeks is doing "protocol", which consists of introducing yourself to the important people in the area. These people include potential work partners, the heads of government ministries, local safety/security authorities, and the traditional chief. So far I've only made a few introductions, but I made sure to go meet the local chief, who is called the fon. We had rehearsed meeting our chief at one point during training and I was expecting a lot of formality and ceremony. But in reality, my fon seemed very welcoming and casual. He gave me his approval, and then asked me if I would be able to recruit other Volunteers to work in the area, as there is a lot to be done here. I don't know if I'll be able to do that, but it was nice to have his support and hear his enthusiasm for the PC. Also, I got to take a motorcycle up to his palace, which is a sentence I never thought I would be able to say. The other event of this week was Thanksgiving and the preparation for it. Thanksgiving isn't a holiday that I get very excited for, but it came a week after we got to our posts and I didn't really have any plans for it for the first time in my life. Luckily, there are other Volunteers stationed in Bamenda that welcomed me to their dinner and told me that I could even come help make pumpkin pie. So I headed down late Wednesday morning, thinking I would make pie crust for a few hours and then come back up to my apartment for the night. I should state that I've never played an active role in Thanksgiving preparation before, but I have made my share of pumpkin pies. But for all of you that think that Thanksgiving is a lot of work in America, please come on over to Cameroon. Imagine trying to make the whole dinner with no real oven and just a Dutch oven that can only handle one dish at a time. Admittedly we had to substitute chicken for turkey, but other than that we had an authentic Thanksgiving experience. There was even Stovetop stuffing and jellied cranberries. We even managed to make pumpkin pies from scratch, using local squash that tasted remarkably similar. Bamenda is an incredible place. Some other highlights of my first week at post:
1. Made my first friend in village! I was out for a walk on my first morning here and I ran into this woman who proceeded to take me back to her house for breakfast and to meet her family. She's already planning to introduce me to all the local dishes-yesterday brought njama-njama, the first green mush of vegetables that I've enjoyed here so far. Today's introduction wasn't quite as appealing-fried grasshoppers. Not even joking. I couldn't even try them.
2. Celebrated TJ's birthday at PresCafe, my new favorite restaurant in Cameroon. It's kind of a little slice of America in Bamenda with a Cameroonian theme to it. They have smoothies and pizza. I might become a regular. And TJ turned 28!
3. Bought a water heating wand! In Bafia, I was taking cold bucket showers like a champ. Sometimes I even giggled to myself when my host family heated their water for bathing-it was so hot there the idea of voluntarily heating water seemed a little ridiculous. Well, the Northwest is another story entirely. I have running water and a real shower, but it's cold. Really cold. I took a shower the first few days but it was a trying experience, and ended with me shivering in my towel for a few minutes each time. So I bought a hot water coil. It was easily the best $3 I've ever spent. It is essentially just a metal coil that you stick into a bucket of water for a few minutes, and it heats the water pretty well. Let's just say it was a game-changer. I'll be clean in this country after all. And I've only electrocuted myself twice so far. Not even mad.
TL,DR: Survived my first week at post, celebrated Thanksgiving like a real American, and was told by one of my neighbors that she understands my French better than my English. Nothing in my life makes sense anymore.
The view from my rear (favorite) balcony. 

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Moving On, Moving In

So it happened. We swore in as official Peace Corps Volunteers and even managed to performed a rendition of Cat Stevens' Peace Train that wasn't completely embarrassing (thanks for that, guys). We wore matching pange outfits and collectively gave speeches in French, Fulfulde, and Pidgin. And then all the build-up was over and we were finally ready for what we came to do. But as excited as we all are to finally be finished with training and onto our posts, the day was certainly bittersweet. Saying good-bye to the people that have become my family here wasn't something that I was looking forward to, and it certainly wasn't easy. But of course, we didn't come half-way around the world to spend all our time with 53 other Americans and the time came to get on our buses and head to post. A huge shout out to my incredible, hilarious, insightful, and brave stage-mates as you all head to your respective posts and continue this adventure solo. I don't know what I would have done without you these past two months and missing you all already. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm stationed in the Northwest Region just outside the city of Bamenda. We spent the entire day after swearing-in traveling to Bamenda and my crew that's posted in the Northwest couldn't believe how lucky we are when we finally arrived. There was a "chill" in the air (meaning we all finally stopped sweating) and the landscape is hilly and lush.The city sits in a valley, and my village is just on the outer rim looking down on it. It's incredibly beautiful here, and I have both the conveniences that come with proximity to a large city and the feel of a more isolated village. Truthfully, I haven't explored the immediate vicinity much yet and have spent almost all my time down in town getting some immediate necessities. Today's project was to find a mattress, bed frame, and gas tank and I spent the better part of the afternoon doing so. Luckily, a couple of community members volunteered to help me get these things and the three of us searched, negotiated, and finally brought everything home in a single taxi. As for the taxi ride, all I can say is that I wish I had taken a picture of the amount of things that were crammed into (and hanging out of) the trunk. I just made my first dinner in my new apartment and while there will be many opportunities to eat Cameroonian cuisine during these two years, tonight was certainly not one of them. I'm sure none of you will be surprised to know that guacamole and ketchup both made it onto the menu, but I was surprised to learn that green beans could too. So here's to a meal without palm oil, couscous, or crying children (sometimes dinner at my host family got a little rough). As for my new apartment, let's just say that it's big and empty. My favorite part so far is the two balconies overlooking my neighborhood and the rest of the mountains surrounding Bamenda. Many thanks to RPCV Shane for outfitting my entire kitchen with what he left behind (and best of luck back home)! TL, DR: Training's over and my friends and I are finally flying solo. As strange as it is to be doing this alone, my post is incredible so far and I'm feeling really lucky to be here.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

A Hand of Bananas


As I mentioned in my last post, PC Cameroon has just about 10 weeks of training before we swear in as official Volunteers. I'm sure the distinction may seem a little arbitrary to all of you back home, as I've already left the US to join the Peace Corps and will remain here through this transition. But please believe me when I tell you that the transition between Volunteers and Trainees is quite important and feels like a big step. As of next week, we will no longer be living with host families or reporting to the training center every day (there aren't really weekends of the traditional sort during training). Instead, our group of 54 will be dispersed across the country, with some of us more than a full day's travel from the others. It turns out that Cameroon is quite big, and the quality of the roads makes it feel even bigger. 
But as for life at the moment, it's beginning to feel like finals week. Last week brought our final cross-cultural presentations, all of which took place in French. My subject was elephants in Cameroon, but it quickly turned into a broader discussion of poaching and the relationship between the ivory trade and the Chinese economy. I had previously thought that we were past the point where ivory is still being created and that it is valued for its historical presence. As far as I understand it, this is not at all the case, and the growing middle class in China is now demanding ivory that they had previously been unable to afford. This has led to an increase in elephant poaching and often funds international terrorist groups such as the Janjaweed. My attempt to explain this situation in French wasn't the most polished presentation I've ever given, but the project gave me the opportunity to explore a situation that I'm interested in and boosted my confidence where French is concerned. 
On Sunday we celebrated Diversity Day, which consisted of an exchange of American and Cameroonian culture between the trainees and our trainers. Both groups brought favorite foods to share and performed songs, skits, and dances. I was recruited as one of the few Jews to make latkes, but after peeling a small mountain of potatoes we learned that the blender was woefully unequipped to handle the scale that we were working on. We then all admitted that none of us had ever been primarily responsible for latke creation in the past and decided to be flexible. And so we ended up making a small mountain of french fries, all of which were cut to different sizes. It wasn't our proudest moment, but the enthusiasm of Diversity Day was infectious and we forgot about the small setback. Some American highlights of the day included a group-wide "flashmob" to the Macarena (which I hope doesn't represent American culture…), my group of Environment trainees singing Wagon Wheel, and a small mountain of peanut butter and jelly. The Cameroonians of course put us all to shame with their own fashion show, dance party, and singing in both French and English. I ended the day much more excited about going to post and Cameroon in general. There are a lot of great parts of training, but it's easy to forget that there are many different aspects of Cameroon that we haven't even seen yet. Our exposure to Cameroon has been extremely limited, and we're very much living in sequestration. 
It's clear that we're being weaned out (or hardened off, as the LIFE sector likes to say) of life in Bafia, and the next stage of that came this week when we met our community hosts. I was a little unclear as of the role of community host prior to this week, but I learned that these are the people responsible for helping us transition to life at post and integrate into our communities. All of our community hosts live in our communities and will help us meet the appropriate people and adapt to cultural norms. Before the hosts arrived morning I had a flashback to meeting our host families, where we all stood awkwardly by one wall of the training center while they sat on the other. That day, my host family wasn't there to pick me up and I was left sitting in an empty room while the PC admin made some frantic phone calls on my behalf. But my worrying on Monday was unfounded, as my host saw my nametag quickly and wrapped me in a hug before she even told me her name. This was literally the opposite of how my introduction to my host family had gone, and I have a good feeling about how our relationship will proceed. 
My last point for today is about one of the sessions we had today, which was on international development and more specifically the book Two Ears of Corn. One of my good friends got her degree in international development and when I was talking to her yesterday I realized that I hadn't ever really thought about the need for development as one of the reasons that I joined the PC, at least not in such formal terms. I haven't taken any classes on the subject and know pretty much nothing other than the extreme basics that we talked about in a session a few weeks ago. Two Ears of Corn has made its way around the group of LIFE trainees, and when I started it yesterday I realized that there's a good reason for that. The book focuses on the need for community enthusiasm for a given project and the importance of remembering the social impacts of a given project. It also stresses the need for mutual respect between community members and outside development agents and encourages them to work with the poorest of the poor. There's much more that I'd love to put in here, but I think the takeaway is that I've been spending so much time and energy focusing on my own personal needs that it's easy to lose sight of the real reason that we're all here. Despite the fact that the majority of the conversations that my friends here and I have are about our adventures at our host families or our preparations for post, there are many people that have put a lot of thought into the ethics of development and if there's a right way to go about it. I really don't know enough about the subject to make any more of a claim, but I'm excited to continue this discussion and learn from my experiences. 
And to end on a lighter note, I learned last week that in Pidgin, a bunch of bananas are called a 'hand', and that a single banana is called a 'finger'. Brilliant. 
TL,DR: Training is almost over and although I'll be sad to leave Bafia and my friends from stage, I'm excited to learn more about Cameroonian culture and head to my post. When I get there I'll already have at least one friend and will know how to buy the right number of bananas at the market!

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

7th Week (much-needed) Funtime

I went to a college that had the good sense to use a trimester system. There were three 10-week terms that made up the academic year, and we took a manageable three classes per term. So it's been pretty easy for me to draw parallels between a familiar Carleton term and my 10-week Pre-Service Training. There were always peaks and valleys during each term in college, and it's seeming like those patterns are holding fairly true for this as well. We're in the middle of our 7th week, and I'm hoping all my Carls out there will have a good idea of how I'm holding up. It's the calm before the storm. The end is in sight, but it's still too far away to start coasting. Luckily, the Peace Corps has been doing this long enough to anticipate all of these feelings (it's a little scary how predictable our emotions seem to be) and have conveniently planned another trip out of Bafia, at least for the LIFE (Linking Income, Food, and the Environment) volunteers. This is my program, so my friends and I boarded a bus headed for Bangangte, in the West Province last Sunday. We spent two days there and learned various technical skills and the accompanying French vocabulary. Some trip highlights included a visit to a teaching farm that trains local farmers in ecological practices and a practical session in grafting and marcotting. I've never been one to get very excited about plants (as my friends in my Plant Bio class can attest), but it turns out that plants can do some pretty cool things. I'm not going to describe marcotting here, but look it up. So cool. Learning technical skills in French was a new experience for us and definitely had its challenges, but the accompanying demonstrations allowed us to get a pretty good grasp on the skills. The trip also allowed us a much needed opportunity to spend some time together outside of class, which we took full advantage of. The first night brought singing on the balcony into the night (including some T-Swift!!), and the second a movie night complete with snacks and wine. Not too rough. Other recent happenings-we had a soja (soy) demonstration (also in French-turns out they're pretty serious about this language learning) this past Saturday where we learned how to make soymilk and tofu. The Peace Corps heavily stresses IGAs (Income Generating Activities) as a way to assist local communities, and this one seems like it has a lot of potential. The tofu can be skewered with a little bit of pepper and onion and sold on the side of the road, which seems to be a main sales venue here. It takes quite a while to make soymilk, and even longer to take tofu, but that definitely isn't an obstacle for cooking here. In fact, it seems to be a prerequisite of sorts for any potential meal in Cameroon. There is one type of plant that requires intensive scrubbing before it can be cooked. With a sponge. But I digress. After the women teaching us finished making the tofu, they mixed it with some vegetables and sauce and ended up with the best tofu I've ever eaten. Side note-I heard rumors before I came here that the main seasoning in Cameroon is MSG, which I couldn't possibly believe. The rumors are true. All prepared food contains Maggi, a soy sauce lookalike that is basically straight MSG. I was ardently opposed to it for the first few weeks until I realized that it's in almost everything that we've been eating. My low point came when I caught myself adding it to my lunch at one point during our trip to the West. My last point for today will be on clothing, both new and old. It was pretty tough to pack for this adventure, as I was told that no one wears shorts but that the weather is always hot and sticky. I've been surviving just fine with what I brought, but my stage-mates and I have begun the adventure of having clothing made. The process is completely different than clothes shopping in the US, and begins by picking out the fabric that you want your clothes to be made out of, called pagne, (pan-yuh) which is usually extremely colorful and patterned. You then take the fabric to your favorite tailor, along with a sketch or picture of what you would like made. Theoretically you could just explain exactly how you want your clothes to be made, but this requires a higher level of French competency than I possess and also probably a high degree of trust in your tailor. My first foray into Cameroonian fashion was a dress, with a moderate degree of success. It looks pretty much nothing like I expected (or my picture looked like), but I'm happy with it nonetheless. This summer in the US I finally achieved my longtime goal of finding denim overall shorts (romperalls, if you will). It was with a heavy heart that I left them back home, but I was determined to get a similar (longer) pair made here. It took quite a bit of explaining (and three fittings), but I finally received the finished product yesterday. Pictures will hopefully come soon, but I would say that they're a huge success. TL, DR: My trip to the West Province served as a much needed break and bonding experience for the LIFE volunteers, but we're getting close to finishing up training. We're even starting to look the part!
Teaching farm in Bangangte

Thursday, October 17, 2013

A Taste of Freedom



In my brief time as a Peace Corps Trainee, I've learned that the group of people that tend to be drawn to the Peace Corps tend to be adventurous, independent, and idealistic (although I'm not claiming to be all three…). Because of this, the last 4 weeks that we've spent captive in the small town of Bafia haven't always been the easiest. Many of us feel that our freedom has pretty much disappeared, and one trainee went as far as to claim today that he no longer knows how to crack an egg by himself. Lucky for us, the Peace Corps is aware of many of these feelings, and allowed us a brief reprieve from Bafia last week for our much-awaited site visits! In the past trainees have had the opportunity to visit their future sites and establish themselves as a presence in the community, but due to the shortened length of Pre-Service Training and the length of travel to some posts, we were instead given the opportunity to visit sites that had been randomly selected and were within a day's travel (at least on paper). I was assigned to visit Kumbo, a small city of 60,000 in the Northwest Province with two friends of mine. We set out early Wednesday morning for Bamenda, the regional capital of the Northwest. From there, we caught a taxi to Kumbo and filled the car with 6 passengers (taxis usually take 7 passengers plus the driver-we had to buy the last seat in the name of "comfort"). It's a minor miracle that we fit into the car with all of our things, but our driver was a determined one. The drive was a beautiful one, complete with mountain landscapes, rice cultivation, and even some waterfalls. A shout out to the Peace Corps spirit-at one point during the drive I received a call from a volunteer that I had never met. He had heard that we would be passing through his town and wanted to come out and wave to us as we drove past. And he did! The one hiccup in our journey came when we learned that we had a flat tire (as the sun was setting and the town quickly was getting dark). It was a little worrisome when the driver left us on the side of the road in search of someone that could fix it, but Danielle picked up the tire iron that he left next to the car and we were completely fine. But the slight delay meant that the journey took us more than 12 hours from door to door. It was a pretty wonderful thing when we finally arrived and our host Bridget had an American meal of spaghetti and salad already prepared for us. The next few days were pretty incredible and a wonderful break from training. We went to a yogurt/cheese factory as a way of preparing for my research project on cheesemaking. And to get there we took motorcycles, which was a first for me. So much fun, and at one point we found ourselves weaving through a herd of cows. Not a bad way to do some research. Other trip highlights included visiting the market (which comes every 8 days as per the traditional calendar), making guacamole, hiking to a waterfall, eating my first spaghetti omelet, (such a strange concept but unsurprisingly delicious) and generally getting a feel for life as a PCV. Life seems pretty good in Kumbo, and it was a wonderful break from the regularity of training. But all trips must end, and we found ourselves back in Bafia on Sunday after a 28 hours trip back that included a stay in Bamenda. Turns out that the trip is much more pleasant that way. And a big shout-out and thank-you to Bridget, Shannon, and the rest of the PCVs that made the trip so much fun. Before we left for our site visits, we all completed forms and had interviews to share our preferences for our future site placement. Of course, none of us had ever visited any of the sites (or even the regions, as none of us have ever left the Central region and none of the placements were here). But nonetheless, we all became quite attached to the idea of different regions and sites from the small descriptions we were given and began to get excited about certain posts. Post announcements weren't until the Wednesday following our return from site visit, and they were potentially the least useful two days of training. No one could focus on anything other than our future posts, and tensions were a little high. Many people had listed the same posts as their top choice, but the final decision was completely out of our hands. I can't really speak for my fellow trainees, but for me this was the first time in a while that such an important decision would be made without my final input. Two years is a long time to be living in a place and working at a job that you didn't choose yourself. Although to be fair, accepting the decision of others has been a theme so far in my PC service. But they haven't led me astray yet, and this time was no exception. In the end, I was assigned my first choice post, working with Heifer International in a small village on the edge of Bamenda, which is the third largest city in Cameroon. We got to spend a little bit of time in Bamenda on our way back from site visit, and I've heard that it's a great city, and contains many of the things that Americans living abroad occasionally crave. During our one night there I was even able to find pizza (although I'm not sure if I would have considered it pizza stateside…)! And I'll be living just outside the city limits in a small village, which is exactly what I wanted. Hopefully it'll be the best of both worlds in a way. I will be working with farmers as an extension agent in increase milk production and potentially on a biogas project as well. It sounds like my work is slightly more structured than that of my fellow trainees, which I hope will make the beginning of my service a little easier. Anyway, this post has gotten a little long, so props if you made it all the way through. Life's good here, and we're full steam ahead with training. And now we've got a frame of reference in terms of how to prepare for where we're headed. TL, DR: Site visits showed a glimpse of life beyond training, and life's good in the Northwest region. Lucky for me, I'll be heading there to work with Heifer International in Bamenda (and speaking English)!

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Snacks on Snacks?

I grew up in a house with a Jewish mother. Any time any of my friends came over, my mom was quick to offer snacks and ensure that we were all properly fed. In my four years of college, I received very few care packages that didn't contain at least a few granola bars tucked in for good measure (although I did get one containing just chocolate and underwear "All the life essentials!"). At least once during my childhood my mom told us "food is love". Long story short, food has always played an important role in the Silver family way of life. I can't claim to have adequately researched Cameroon before I stepped on the plane, but I definitely looked into the food situation. One of the guidebooks I found described Cameroonian cuisine as "functional". I was worried. Almost a month in, I can't claim that these claims were entirely unfounded but I have definitely been happily surprised more often that I would have expected. The diet (at least in Bafia in the Central Province) is relatively starchy and a meal usually consists of a carbohydrate/sauce combo. Some of the names are a little deceptive; I wasn't too worried when I heard that we would be eating a lot of couscous and gumbo. I was in for a bit of a surprise when I was served these dishes, as neither of them are the same as their American counterpart. The advantage to this cuisine is that it's been quite easy so far to keep up my vegetarian ways. The downside is that my palate is quite confused and doesn't yet know what to make of all these new foods. And for the first few days I was pretty sure that the only method of cooking here is deep frying. Not exactly my jam. Although fried plantains are pretty delicious. But in all seriousness I've been eating a lot of rice, fish, beans, and sandwiches (see section on peanut butter). And they serve us lunch every day at the training center that usually contains some pineapple (anana in French) and avocados/tomatoes.
            I have had a few culinary successes already. Early on in staging I expressed my love of peanut butter and my host brother Peggy and I scoured the market for it. We were unsuccessful (although we did find both jam and ketchup!!) but Peggy showed me how to make my own and it's relatively easy to make and delicious. We've made it consistently since then and whipped up another batch tonight. Another success came this weekend when a few of us set out to make a cake for a friend's birthday. We decided to make it at Anna's house and she went to the market to get the ingredients with her host brothers. Word got out about our project to all of the boys of the neighborhood and before we knew it the kitchen was filled with small children cracking eggs into the bowl. The cake turned out miraculously well and we brought it to our group's soccer game (word also got out about that-there were probably 15 Americans and 35 Cameroonian boys present). A few days ago one of our current PC Volunteer trainers told us that a motto for PC Cameroon is: 'Cameroon-where nothing seems to work but everything seems to work out". This is sounding more and more accurate the more time I spend here, and it's oddly refreshing. At no point during the cake baking did we ever panic-not when Anna went shopping without a recipe, not when the kitchen was swarming with children, and definitely not when Anna's host sister showed us the toaster oven that we would be baking the cake in. No powdered sugar? No problem, nothing a little chocolate and milk powder can't fix. And the language barrier just presented a whole other set of of obstacles. But we ended up with at least three cakes and the one we tried wasn't too bad at all.
Did I mention that I've been eating avocados almost every day? There's really no problem to speak of here.

TL, DR: I've got my work cut out for me in terms of getting used to the food here. But at least I know how to make peanut butter now!

Friday, September 27, 2013

My New Normal?

Just over a week ago my stage-mates and I moved to the small towns of Bafia and Bokito to begin our real Pre-Service Training. I'm in the Environment sector (soon to be called "Sustainable Livelihoods") and am based in Bafia, which is the larger of the two. We were prepared for pretty intensive living conditions, but my experience thus far has been intense in ways other than I previously expected. All of the host families speak primarily French and have committed to feeding us breakfast and dinner. Before coming to Bafia I had primarily been worried about the physical facilities and moving out of the comfort and relative security of the hotel. While these worries weren't completely unfounded, I completely failed to think about the other challenges associated with a homestay. In addition, I was completely overconfident about my French skills. 

A quick note on that: I placed into an intermediate medium level French class, and was extremely proud of myself. My stage-mates run the gamut in terms of French ability and I was relieved to be middle of the road. Just for clarification, I have taken almost 8 years of formal French classes, and am still extremely mediocre. The Peace Corps language program is incredibly intensive and require intermediate-high competency for placement in a Francophone region. My class has only 4 people and is usually the high point of training each day. Lots of playtime, as long as we speak exclusively French. It's a good thing that the PC is taking our language training seriously though, because it can be something of a strugglefest at my house. In theory I know enough French to communicate relatively smoothly, as long as I'm spoken to directly and relatively slowly. In practice, I understand almost nothing. Rien. I often understand my host siblings, but am struggling to get anything other than the most simple ideas across. 

I hadn't prepared myself to live in an environment where I can't fully express myself and have any type of complicated conversation. This has turned out to be the biggest challenge so far, as I've found myself dealing with the more obvious physical challenges (of which there are quite a few). I was quite proud of myself when I remained (relatively) calm and quickly killed the giant spider cruising up my wall. And bucket showers? No sweat. The no-flush toilets are still somewhat of a mystery to me, but I'm making it work. The language barrier is sometimes a source of amusement around here, especially as I try to figure out basic tasks. The first time I asked my host brother how to use the toilet, he looked at me in confusion and then told me that I had to start by taking my pants off. Thanks, bro. 

My favorite thing so far about living in Cameroon are the small victories that can be found around every corner. This week's big win? Homemade peanut butter. My host brother took me to the market for the first time and we hunted in vain for some premade stuff, which I was sure we would be able to find. He wasn't so sure, and he was of course right. But my friend TJ picked up some peanuts for me and my host brother showed me how to roast and grind them. Yumyumyum. Another food win: Chocolate spread and banana sandwiches. My new favorite breakfast. 

Final thought: a large part of our training has consisted of cross-cultural sessions designed to prepare us for our new lives and success at post. Many of the sessions have been mind-blowing and have challenged my own views on the way that Americans do things. I'm not quite ready to think exclusively in terms of Cameroon yet. One of the more interesting sessions was focused on the concept of Cameroonian (and African in general) time. Things move slowly here, and there's a much greater emphasis on greetings and formality. Because of this, it is much more important to go through the necessary greetings than to adhere to a specific schedule. As an American, I'm used to expectations regarding time and often find myself late for wherever I'm headed. Here, it's not uncommon for people to be hours late for a particular event. When we asked a current Peace Corps Volunteer how late is considered "late", he seemed surprised and answered with "6 hours?" So that might take some getting used to. At first I was appalled, but then I was thinking about the American pace of life and the stress that comes with it. I'm not here to pass judgement on either culture, but it was something I've been thinking about, so I figured that it might be worth sharing. 
View from the hotel in Yaounde. Definitely far from home!



TL, DR: Life in Bafia is full of new challenges that I'm mostly overcoming. Still working on French fluency and a more stable home life. Haven't starved yet, though!