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!