Wednesday, November 24, 2010

“But before you can rise from the ashes / You’ve gotta’ burn, baby, burn / Welcome to your barbeque / Where we roast all the dreams that never came true / Welcome to your barbeque / Pig out and dream anew”


Coming back from site visit left most people anxious.  We’re wrapping up our time in training, and, while we’re all eager to get started at our individual posts, I’m sure I’m not alone in worrying if I’ve read enough/learned enough/done enough/asked enough questions… I have reached my required language level for my region (one of the 8 francophone provinces), and even gave a 26-minute presentation in French, but it’s still scary to think that the “training wheels” come off and I’m on my own soon.
I’ve tested my ability to function independently by shopping solo a few times.  It’s probably the best way to feel like you’re being “fed to the wolves.”  I like the hustle and bustle of the outdoor market (march é) , and even the confident persona I embody (or at least imitate) in this scenario.  Completely focused on the task at hand, I ignore the chaos around me and zero in on my list of items to purchase.  I walk with a purpose, disregarding the smell of smoked fish, the crowd of people, and the vendors loudly hawking their wares.  Whistles, hisses, and shouts become background noise as I become ballsy, bartering over the price of avocados, limes, peanuts…  It’s both exhilarating and draining.      
Meanwhile, with my home-stay family, I’m slowly integrating.  Some days I feel like I’m connecting, having interesting conversations about educational systems, politics, gender roles, youth culture, AIDS, etc.  I’m learning that Cameroonians are not a subtle people, and this kind of frank honesty is usually refreshing, but it still takes a little to get used to it (like when my host mom saw a college photo of me and called me fat – a compliment!).  
She and I seem to have worked out a nightly ritual: she insists that I eat more (“Charmayne, tu manges très petite... très très petite”), and I kid her that I need to call an army to help me eat the enormous spaghetti omelet she made.  Meanwhile, my host dad thinks I should learn how to tress/twist hair.  This is amusing given the general state of my own hair at any given time, and even more laughable when I think of working with the health center by day and becoming a coiffeur by night.   
Due to a gas shortage, we’ve been cooking outside lately, which is frustrating to my host mom (“See how I suffer, Charmayne"), but appreciated by me.  There’s something about making your meal over a fire and then eating it under the stars that makes it taste that much better.  One of my favorites has been simple (no salt or butter) grilled corn on the cob.  The corn here is tougher than the sweet corn we’re used to in the states.  This may be my palette changing, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say, when it is grilled by an open flame, I actually think I prefer this corn.  It’s chewier, but also a filling meal or snack.
Of course, I’m trying to impart culture, too.  In honor of reaching my required French language level, I made the family “French” toast.  Only, without cinnamon or real vanilla extract, I called it Cameroonian toast.  They at least pretended to like it.  I’ve also insisted on putting my omelet in between the bread in the morning so I can eat while I walk to school (“Je mange pendant que je marche") – a very American thing, right? 
As a whole, the group is in good spirits, even if the overall health isn’t 100% right now.  A few have contracted malaria/typhoid/dysentery, but they’ve gotten medical help quickly and are on the mend.  It’s like playing the real-life version of Oregon Trail (am I dating myself with that reference?)!  Or, if you prefer, you can play Peace Corps Bingo:
(Created by a PCV in 2009)

Today is Thanksgiving which I’m sure will bring its own set of stories, but I’ll save that for another post.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Picture

A statue representation of Cameroon's 10 regions.  I'll be living in the West which, illogically, is not the western-most province and thus, not coastal.

 The crowds in the capital city of Yaounde during my first week in Cameroon.  I apologize for the photo quality being grainy but it was taken from a moving vehicle.
 
(Sorry, it takes a bit of time to load each picture.  I'll try for more soon...)