Exactly a year ago, my friends and
I walked across a stage, were handed our diplomas, and officially became
college graduates. I know this blog is supposed to be about my experience in
the Peace Corps, but I feel like I owe at least one post to those crazy kids
that walked across that stage with me a year ago and the adventures that they
have undertaken since then. Also, I’m still coming to terms that a year has
already passed since that day that another group of students has taken our
place since then. On that note, congrats to the Carleton class of 2014. You did
it.
But back to
the issue at hand: my 2013 Carls and the places we’ve gone this past year. I
mentioned in one of my first posts about our various plans and the things we
expected to do. For the most part, my friends are I have been good about
following through with our respective plans, but almost everyone added their
own little twists (as they tend to do). Collectively we’ve been on four
continents (and back from three of them) and have made almost no money. Some of
us have decided to continue what we’re doing for another year, and one of us
decided to quit the original plan and head to the Grand Canyon to work with the
mules instead. Many of you may be able to guess who that was. We’ve celebrated
one engagement, suffered at least one major breakup, and logged thousands of
miles behind the wheel/handlebars (by car, bike, and for me at least,
motorcycle).
A year ago,
we were so entangled in each other’s lives that it may have been unhealthy. These
days, the term “staying in touch” has real meaning and is (surprise, surprise)
harder than it sounds. I’m lucky in that I left my circle of Carleton friends
and entered right into the close-knit group of Peace Corps Volunteers (fun
fact: turns out those groups aren’t mutually exclusive-there are currently two
Carleton alums in Peace Corps Cameroon!). But I’m so glad to know that my Carls
are out there on the other side of the globe having adventures of their own and
I can’t wait to see them again so we can have time to catch up for real.
The original plan for this blog
post was to end right there, and leave my life here out of it for once. But
this has been quite the weekend, and that just wouldn’t be right. My adventures
here began early Friday morning, when I joined the entire Bamenda CamPost (post
office) team for their 10th anniversary march. I first agreed to
march before I knew much of the plan, and was taken for quite the surprise when
I realized that I had gotten myself into. The march began at 6 AM, contained a
full half-hour warm up, a walk across town and back (definitely didn’t know
that going in…) and then a cool-down. Total time: about two hours. Important
components: matching t-shirts, professional motivators, a truck blaring music,
and a police escort. And here I thought I was agreeing to a casual walk across
town with a new friend. You live and you learn.
The other event this weekend was a daylong
canoe trip that a few friends and I went on. I also agreed to this activity
without much knowledge of what I was signing up for (it’s kind of the way
things work here) but in this case I was pleasantly surprised. The trip was
professionally organized and initially felt almost like an American canoe tour.
That is, until we learned that part of the fee went towards paying a “hippo
monitor”: someone who paddles in front of the group to watch out for
hippopotamuses lucking ahead. Although I was glad to have this additional
guide, most of the trip passed without major incident and we almost forgot about
the potential danger. The journey was beautiful, and it was honestly quite nice
to get a glimpse at Cameroon without constantly being under scrutiny. The trip
took longer than we had expected, and towards the end our group drifted apart a
little bit. My two friends and I were pretty far ahead of the rest of the group
(but still behind the hippo monitor) when we heard a splash and then looked up
to see two pairs of eyes peering out of the water. Hippos. The hippo monitor
quickly turned around and paddled back upstream, and we followed suit. Luckily,
there was a cluster of rocks sticking out of the water a safe distance away, so
we headed there and climbed out of our boats. The rest of the group slowly
caught up to us and we alerted them to the situation ahead. The two hippos (a
female and her calf) slowly advanced towards us, which was fairly terrifying.
But apparently they decided that we weren’t worth their time so backed up the
way we came and left us to decide what to do next. Some members of the group would
have happily waited on those rocks indefinitely, but that wasn’t a realistic
option. So we calmly and quietly got back into our boats and headed back down
the river. Luckily we were close to the ending point and arrived without
further incident. This being Cameroon, the logistics hadn’t been quite worked
out; the designated river exit was legitimately the steepest bank I have ever
climbed, and also the muddiest. Of course I didn’t make it up without falling
down once. So muddy, sunburnt, bug-bitten, and sore, we headed back to
civilization. What a great day.
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