Round Two isn't quite like Round One!

As I discussed in my last post, my month-long vacation in America was pretty incredible. I spent some much-needed time catching up with friends and family, which I really enjoyed. But I also spent a not-insignificant amount of time simply astounded by various aspects of life back home. Smooth roads! Pizza delivery! 24-hour pharmacies! Credit cards! There are so many parts of American that I didn’t even think to miss during my first year in Cameroon, but found myself astounded by. As my trip grew to a close, I started to worry. Could I really come back to Cameroon and say another yearlong good-bye to all of the wonderful parts of life in America?

            So far, it’s looking like I can. I’ve been back in Cameroon for nearly a week now, and I’m happy to report that things have been going well. In some ways, I think that returning to Cameroon in some ways validated my level of confidence and familiarity here. I returned to Cameroon a week ago over a year after I first arrived with 54 other trainees, and it felt different in so many ways.

            This time around, the drive between the airport and the city of Yaoundé wasn’t nearly as terrifying. I was confident that we wouldn’t hit any of the dogs that were crossing the street at random, and driving through the Yaoundé outskirts in the middle of the night felt…almost normal. I spent a few days in Yaoundé trying to get over my jet lag, (turns out that taking two consecutive red-eye flights isn’t conducive to an easy transition between time zones) and I was surprised by how normal it felt to be back. I ate a spaghetti omelet, hit up a Cameroonian grocery store, and even remained calm when the cashier informed me that she didn’t have any of the necessary change to give me after my purchase. It turns out that a month away from Cameroon was, in many ways, exactly what I needed.

Side note: Getting change is a near-constant problem in Cameroon. Banks usually distribute 5,000 and 10,000CFA notes (about $10 and $20, respectively), and many daily purchases are for less than 1,000 francs. Vendors are always “begging” other nearby merchants to make change for them, and I’ve been unable to make purchases because I didn’t have a small enough denomination. One of the days in America, I tried to buy some apple cider doughnuts(!) for $6. I only had a $20, and I apologized as I handed over the bill. She looked at me like I was a little crazy and said it wasn’t a problem at all. Of course. Thanks, Cameroon.

            After my time in Yaoundé, it was time to head back to Bamenda. I had two heavy suitcases and was a little worried about the logistics of getting everything back. But as they say: “Cameroon, where nothing works but every works out” and I didn’t have any problems. I “depoted” (hired the whole car) a taxi, who brought my straight to the bus station and even guarded my bags while I bought my ticket. After a casual seven and a half hour ride, we arrived safely in Bamenda. I was able to convince the driver to let me off within walking distance of my house, and as luck would have it, one of my favorite taxi drivers was just pulling in. He loaded my suitcases into his trunk and we headed straight to my house, where he insisted on helping me carry them up into my apartment. Nothing like door-to-door service. After a quick rest, I headed out to greet some nearby friends. I didn’t pass too many on my way, but many of them greeted me enthusiastically and expressed how long “I had been missing for”. I explained that I had travelled home, and nearly everybody inquired after the well being of my family.

            When I arrived at my friend Bridget’s house, she nearly ran me through the door as I entered in her enthusiasm. Her husband and daughter were also in the room, and they all greeted me with excitement that rivaled that of my real family back in September. It was incredibly humbling and made me beyond glad that I had decided to return.

            So far, my emotional level hasn’t dipped too far below that. Cameroon isn’t getting under my skin in nearly the same way it did before I left, and I’m hoping that this positive energy sticks around for quite a while. I’ve been realizing that there are also parts of life in Cameroon that I had missed (well, am glad to return to) and that the phrase “not worse, just different” is definitely applicable to my life these days. In many ways, my life in Cameroon and my life in America seem to run in parallel in that they feel entirely separate, but both with their respective advantages.   

           

In a related note, this month marks the beginning of my second year in Cameroon and the halfway point in my service. Both of those are milestones that I’m proud to have reached, and have got me thinking about my goals for the rest of my time here. Per my family’s request, I even have a blog related goal-I’m going to try to take and include more pictures. I’ve been hesitant thus far because picture taking tends to make me feel like a tourist, but I’ll do my best. No pictures for this post, but it is something I’ll strive for.

America is Pretty Great.

As many of you know, I spent the past month in America visiting with friends and family and enjoying the comforts of life in a developed country. It was an incredible month, and a much-needed break from life here in Cameroon. I’ve been thinking about how to best condense my time in America to one manageable blog post; it was a month unlike any I’ve ever experienced and certainly overwhelming at points.

            The best way I’ve come up with at this point is to think about my time back home is through the lens of gratitude. On a larger level, I’m incredibly grateful that I was able to take a month-long vacation from my responsibilities as a Peace Corps Volunteer and travel back to America to enjoy the comforts of home. I’m grateful both that I get to call America home and that I’m getting the chance to live in a place that’s nearly as far away as it gets, both geographically and functionally. But I want to talk more about the smaller parts of my trip back home and how grateful I am for all of them.  

The Carleton Arb: still one of my favorite places in the world.

            I was worried at first that a month back home would be too long-there was potential both to grow bored of the amount of unoccupied time or become too comfortable and refuse to return. Luckily, neither of those happened. I broke up my time stateside with a trip out to Minnesota for the wedding of two friends. The wedding was originally the impetus for the trip-I couldn’t bear the idea of missing out on the reunion of so many people that I care about and an opportunity to return to a place with countless wonderful memories. In practice, the trip was everything I needed it to be. Most importantly, I got to spend a couple of quality days just hanging out and catching up with some of my favorite people in the world. A case of scabies (not me!) only added to the excitement, and an attempt at seeing the Northern Lights provided a perfect excuse for a late-night venture into the Arb. I’m incredibly grateful that my friends found the time and resources to make their own trips happen, and that we were able to share some time together.

Some of my favorites celebrating our friends' wedding

            But as great as my time in Minnesota was, it was only a small part of my time back home. My parents and I (and our dog Zoe!) started off my time in America with a few days at a cabin in Vermont, and it was pretty ideal. The leaves were beginning to change but it was still warm enough for swimming. We made a detour to my favorite bookstore and stopped at my favorite cidery for a tasting. In short, my parents indulged all of my America cravings to the best of their abilities. And being reunited with my favorite pup certainly didn’t hurt the situation.

            The rest of my time back home pretty much followed this pattern. I got to see many of my favorite people, do many of my favorite things, and eat most of my favorite foods. Food is something that Peace Corps Volunteers love to talk about; both in the context of what we’re able to get here and what we miss from life back home. I got all of my favorites, from bagels and lox to Chipotle, bison burgers to raspberries. My mom even brought my favorite Chinese food to the airport when she and my dad came to meet me. This is a woman who has gone on record as saying “food is love”.

Jake struggles with his apple picking
 related obligations

            So thanks for a great month, America. Thanks for reminding me that life back home goes on while I’m over here. Thanks for showing off your finest fall colors during the short time I was able to enjoy it. Thanks for reminding me that public transport can be pleasant, and that I don’t always have to be home before dark. Thanks for bringing so many important people back into my life, and for giving me enough distance from Cameroon to appreciate what I’ve learned here. As for my return to Cameroon and my next year of service, game on.

Rainy Season Transitions and a Return

For a country that doesn't experience winter, life in Cameroon is full of transitions. The most obvious ones tend to be weather related; at the moment we're in the midst of what feels like a never-ending rainy season and all conversations seem to touch on the effects of the current “cold”. (Full disclosure: I don't think it's dipped below 60 degrees the entire time I've lived here). But there are other transitions at work as well, and as my first full year in Cameroon comes to a close I'm more acutely aware of them than I think I have been in a while.

One of the more visible transition going on at the moment is also quite familiar: the closing of “summer” holidays and the preparation for the students' return to school. It seemed a little strange to me that Cameroon follows the same calendar that America does; after all, it's not like Cameroonians experiences summer in the same way that we do back home. But the rainy season here is also a busy season for farming, and children provide much-needed labor in their time off from school, which brings me to my next transition.

During the school holidays, I've noticed an interesting exchange of children in my neighborhood. As far as I can gather, it seems like children from the “village” (less developed areas) often come to experience city life for a few months. Their more urban counterparts often head out to the village to spend time with their extended family members and offer a hand on the family fields. My landlady's family experienced both: she sent her children off to the village in the Littoral (another region), and welcomed a new set of children that were somehow related to her for a few weeks during the month of July. Prior to coming to Cameroon, my frame of reference for school vacation included idyllic summer camps, family vacations, and occasional jobs in air-conditioned buildings. Although I've never heard any sort of complaint regarding the way school vacations are spent, the kids in my neighborhood seem quite a bit more excited to resume school than I can ever remember American kids being.

Even the process of heading back to school in Cameroon is slightly different than it is in America. One of the major sources of economic stress for many families is school fees. Nearly all schools in Cameroon (including public schools) require pupils to pay an annual fee for attendance. For public schools these fees aren't too steep (approximately $80/year), but for a family with many children of school age, these fees can quickly become overwhelming. Once you add in the required books for each year and a few sets of mandatory school uniforms for each child, the period right before school begins can become quite financially taxing. 

My own life here isn't excluded from what appears to be this season of transitions. August has been a month unlike any other so far, and it's hard to believe that it's almost over already. In this month alone, I attended two Peace Corps conferences, traveled down to the sticky, mosquito-infested Southwest for a few days, and had more house guests than ever before. It's been a great month, but what most distinguishes it from all preceding months is how much time I spent in the company of other Peace Corps Volunteers. 

Cameroon is a great country in which to serve as a PCV, at least in terms of the Volunteer community. There are more Volunteers here than in almost any other country in the world, and I've met some incredible people. But as close as I feel to many of the Volunteers here and as often as I see them, serving as a PCV tends to be a primarily solitary experience. Since arriving in Bamenda last November, I've spent more time on my own that I ever had before. And while I think this is on balance good for me, having other Volunteers constantly around was certainly a welcome change. My friends Clare, Anna, and I managed to make cream cheese brownies a reality last weekend. Just think about that one. 

All of the time I've been spending with other Americans recently has hopefully prepared me for my most anticipated transition-I'm headed back to America this week for a much-needed dose of life back home. It seems a little unbelievable sometimes that life continues in America in my absence, and I'm sure that spending a month stateside will contain some unexpected challenges. But I'm beyond excited to see my family, friends, and puppy again, and can hardly wait to jump back into life in America. 

And not to worry, my Cameroonian friends haven't missed any opportunity to mock the amount that I'm looking forward to seeing my dog. 

Ongoing Thought on Development and the Peace Corps

I joined the Peace Corps blissfully ignorant about the large world of development. Sure, I knew about the existence of the World Bank, the history of colonization, and the disparities between living standards worldwide. But I somehow never thought about my place in this large puzzle or the implications of the existence of organizations such as the Peace Corps. Selfishly, I was much too concerned with the prospect of living in Cameroon for two years and leaving behind everyone I know to concern myself with silly matters such as the role of the international community in shaping development policy.

            The first few weeks of stage were tough enough emotionally and physically that these larger issues continued to escape my attention. But I remember the first struggle that I went through, which was when I learned that the Peace Corps has been working in Cameroon for over 50 years. ‘How could our work here possibly be valuable or substantial if we haven’t worked ourselves out of a job by now?’ I remember wondering. Because as I saw it then as and I continue to see it now, that should be the world of development agents on any level.

            My confusions over the concepts of development have continued the longer I’ve lived here. First I watched a kid in my neighborhood answer his cell phone as he pumped water at the local borehole. Then I realized that the aspects of life in America that I consider to be our strongest signals of development: consistent electricity, running water, and higher education, simply aren’t valued here to the same degree that they are back home. Instead, many Cameroonians have skipped right to the later, more status driven items such as cell phones, personal cars, and soft drinks. It can be a little unsettling.

            I visited my friend Anna at her post in Tombel last week, and while I was there I had the opportunity to co-facilitate an international development seminar that she has been teaching. We started the class with a brief overview of international development post-Marshall plan, and there were quite a few participants who surprised us with their knowledge on the subject. But as soon as we moved from the history of development to the actualities of living in a developing country, things got even more interesting. We asked the class what they see as the signs of development in Cameroon, and all of the responses were large-scale projects in the major cities. Cameroon is rich in natural resources, and many international corporations have invested in extracting them. There is oil off the coast, lumber in the forests, and various minerals to be found throughout the country. But Anna tried to steer the conversation back to development on an individual and community level and discuss the Millennium Development Goals. We talked about maternal health standards, clean water, and universal literacy. Side note: the town of Tombel has the strangest water system I’ve ever seen here-the residents have running water, but only between the hours of 6:30-7:30AM. Luckily, Anna and her postmate Ben don’t find this to be a problem.

            We went around the room and all of the students introduced themselves and shared their professions. There were quite a few “applicants” (i.e. job-seekers), but also many farmers, which wasn’t surprising considering that farming is the majority occupation on Cameroonians. Given that Anna and I are both Agribusiness Volunteers, we asked the farmers in the class what their main obstacles to success are. And across the board, they all said that their businesses require injections of capital (preferably from the international community) in order to be financially viable. It’s true that farming requires a number of relatively expensive inputs right up front and involves a certain degree of risk. But this conversation was one that was quite familiar and one that can be frustrating as a foreigner here.

I’ve only recently gotten to the point in my service where I’m able to have frank discussions with community members about their goals and opinions regarding development. One of my Cameroonian counterparts, Augustin, expressed his frustration to me today about the way many people here spend their money and how this is delaying the growth of Cameroon. This discussion began regarding the large amount of money spent on funerals and the accompanying celebrations. It isn’t fair to tell others how to spend their money, but the case of funerals seems particularly interesting, as the financial burden falls primarily on the immediate family of the deceased. Augustin went on to tell me that he expected nor wanted such a lavish celebration upon his own death, and that he would prefer that his family save their money for more pressing needs, such as school fees. People like Augustin give me hope for the future of development in Cameroon, but his sentiments directly counter the widespread culture that currently exists here.

            Which brings me back to my earlier struggles regarding the long-term status of Peace Corps Cameroon and my evolving feelings on the way that international development is currently structured. In my opinion, development projects that are conducted by visible outsiders contribute to the widespread sentiment that development is primarily the responsibility of these outsiders. I’ve attempted to avoid this problem by viewing my role in the community as a resource connector, not a resource obtainer. I’m lucky in that I live in a city with many opportunities, markets, and resources, so this is easier than it would likely be in a smaller village. But I’ve really struggled with the sense of dependency towards the international community. I think it’s important to recognize my privilege here, and I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunities that my status as an American has afforded me. But I do think it’s important to be critical of the impacts of our nation’s actions abroad and try to shape my service as to minimize the potential harms that come with sending a young, inexperienced, white-skinned Volunteer as a “development agent”.

            Luckily, I’m finally getting to the point in my service where I’ve found work projects and partners that I’m excited about. I’m optimistic about the way things are going, but I’ve definitely shifted the way that I think about my time here. Two of Peace Corps’ three goals are centered on cultural exchange, and I’ve really come to see these as the most valuable part of my life here. The amount of impact that two years of my work will have on the agricultural industry of Cameroon will be negligible at best. But I’m already quite satisfied by the impact that my presence is having on my friends and neighbors. I think it’s valuable for them to see me as just another person to hang out with, just another friend to gossip with, just another mouth to feed. My ordinary existence in Upstation Bamenda is the near opposite of most experiences they’ve had with Americans in that I’m not on television, not offering large sums of money, and always make time to talk to them. So although I often have doubts about the potential work that I can accomplish during my time here (and the unintentional impacts that it will have) I never question whether or not my presence here is without value. Just going from “white man!” to “Auntie Casey!” is enough for me on that front, at least for now.

             

             

On Friendship and Gas Bottles

Something happened today that I had been expecting for a few months now: my gas ran out. A little explanation might be necessary here; Cameroonian houses don’t have any sort of built-in cooking gas pipe system. Instead, people that choose to cook with a stove (as opposed to a fire outside) buy refillable gas bottles that can be replaced as necessary. The nice thing about this is that it allows for total flexibility when it comes to house design-the kitchen can be anywhere! But the unfortunate part is that these bottles must be physically exchanged when empty, and (surprise, surprise) gas isn’t always available. There were a few weeks back in training when there was no gas available in the entire town. Well, that’s what they told us at least. This meant was that I found myself cooking eggs over an open fire before 7AM on more than one occasion. Rest assured, that wasn’t a sight that any of you wanted to witness. 

            But now that I’m settled at post, I pretty much had my cooking situation on lockdown. I don’t have a “country kitchen” (outdoor house with a fire pit), nor do I want one. I’ve been quite happy with my stove/gas bottle setup and somehow had managed to go the past eight months without having to replace my bottle. It was kind like a miniature Hanukkah miracle for the last two months or so.

Of course, the bottle replacement system isn’t as straightforward as it could be. First you have to buy a gas bottle, which comes filled with butane gas. But even this first step isn’t as simple as it should be. There are two gas companies, and once you commit to a bottle, you’re stuck with that company. Never mind the fact that you return the bottle and take new one when you go in for a refill. Loyalty is the only option here.

            Knowing this ridiculous aspect of Cameroonian life, I decided to go with the more readily available and cheaper option, CamGaz. It seemed like a pretty safe bet at the time. And today, when my gas finally sputtered out, I wasn’t too concerned about what lay ahead. I’m lucky in that I can replace my gas in my town-some other Volunteers have to take their gas bottles on multiple hour moto rides in order to replace them. I called up my favorite taxi driver, Godlove (his real name), and asked him to come pick my empty bottle and I and take us to the store. Other than the daily rainstorm, everything went great until we arrived and were told that my bottle wasn’t eligible to be refilled and thus couldn’t be traded in for a new one. I would have to buy a new bottle, which costs the equivalent of $60. To put in in comparison, a simple refill costs only $15. But after nearly a year in this country, I’ve learned not to simply accept whatever a shopkeeper tells me. Godlove and I pressed further and the issue was more clearly explained to us. Apparently the government of Cameroon had decided that as of the end of June, the only bottles that can be refilled are those that are manufactured by the company that refills them. When I looked closer at my bottle, I saw that it had been produced by Shell Gas, not CamGaz, and was thus essentially obsolete, as Shell doesn’t sell bottled gas here. Apparently there was some sort of safety concern at play here, although the official memo the shopkeeper handed me didn’t go into detail. I had simply gotten unlucky when the gas station attendant had selected a bottle to use back in November, and today I was going to have to pay for it.

            Grumbling, I borrowed money from Godlove and gave it to the shopkeeper. But just to verify the plausibility of the situation, I decided to call my friend Aisha for her opinion before I committed to such a seemingly unnecessary purchase. I explained the situation to her and she found the claim entirely possible, although just as frustrating as I did. But before we hung up, she told me that she had an extra gas bottle lying around that was still eligible for replacement. I could just come and take that to exchange for a new bottle. What a lifesaver. So Godlove and I took my bottle back up the hill and picked up her empty spare. We were able to trade it in without incident and I saved a bunch of money.

            In the midst of my frustration I was trying to think about what an analogous situation would be in the US, and then realized that it just doesn’t exist. Products are recalled all the time, but the company always takes the fall and often loses quite a bit of money. In Cameroon, consumers are expected to take the loss for the mistakes of others, often at great personal expense. This case was pretty minor, but it’s easy to imagine how paying for the mistakes of others could get expensive rather quickly.

This story could have easily been one of frustration over the unfairness and inefficiency of an aspect of Cameroonian life, but it isn’t. Instead it’s one that ends in my gratitude for the generosity of a friend. In Cameroon, community often picks up where the system falls short. People depend on the relationships they cultivate over any official system, and I’m honored to see a physical sign of my inclusion. Peace Corps told us over and over during training: integration is key. I saw yet again today how true this is.