"I left all my friends at the morning bus stop / Shaking their heads"

On December 1st, before the US Ambassador to Cameroon, the Peace Corps Country Director, and various other dignitaries, I swore-in as a Peace Corps Volunteer!  It was so great to be surrounded by the 47 other newly-official volunteers, everyone able to be there despite sickness.  We all wore the same fabric and had new outfits made for the occasion, and it was fun to see what each person ended up wearing: shirts, pants, skirts, dresses, kabas (think flowing muumuu), boubous (the male version of the flowing muumuu), vests, hoodies, and even overalls!  The event coincided with World AIDS Day, and it was a nice touch to be able to raise a bit of awareness at the same time.  After the ceremony, we each dined with our two sets of host families, and the party continued into the night for the volunteers.
The logistics of moving set in the next day, though I certainly can't complain given how relatively close my site is from where we trained (less than four hours).  A few of us spent the night at a hotel in the regional capital city, which was just what we needed to recharge from the chaos of traveling, banking, and bargaining for household basics at the large outdoor market.  The next day, I hired a private taxi to take me and my stuff directly to my house.  This was necessary considering my belongings now include: the two bags I brought with me from the States, a large footlocker (dozens of books care of the Peace Corps, miscellaneous paperwork, mosquito net), a water filter, bicycle, 2 helmets, tank of gas, small cook-stove (plaque a gaz), household items (buckets, cookpots, etc.)...  We bounced along at a pretty quick clip on the paved road - sadly hitting a stray dog along the way - and the dust clouds rolled as we turned onto the route for Bapa.  The driver sat while I unloaded everything myself, but the neighbor children quickly arrived to help carry it into my house.
Ah...my house.  When I first saw the place a few weeks ago during site visit, I'll admit that I was a bit worried.  However, a few people in the community have really worked together to transform it in a way that I think makes it a rival contender for Extreme Makeover: Home Edition should that show ever make its way to Africa.  Improvements continued this past week when the painter arrived and I contributed a fair amount of elbow grease myself, scrubbing all tile and wood surfaces.  No fancy cleansers or Swiffer sweepers here, just me on my hands and knees with a bucket of bleach water and a cut-up T-shirt.  People keep asking if everything is okay with the house, so I feel like the village has a real interest in my happiness and well-being.  If only they knew that I survived living in the Wilson Apartments for two years (Kenyonites, you know what I'm talking about...)!
My house is really more like an apartment, with two rooms and an attached bathroom.  I have electricity (fairly consistently, I'm led to believe), a toilet with running water (what?!), and an overhead shower (I had forgotten those even existed) and I'm very conscious and appreciative of these luxuries.  Thanks to the new paint job, I'm surrounded by pale blue walls, with gray-blue doors and windows.  The outside is white with purple trim (shout out to Kenyon College!) and faces a courtyard area.  I live in a compound, which adds extra security, though it does mean I have to knock every time I want in the gate.  There are A LOT of children, but they've at least been friendly.  Many of the children are Monique's, a woman who lives in the same compound and has been invaluable already.  From lending me a table and chairs for the first week to brining me impromptu meals or things from her garden, I already feel so blessed.
My body wasn't used to the cool temperatures at night, made even more apparent while sleeping on a thin inflatable pad on the cold tile floor.  I must have been quite the sight wearing three layers of clothing, a jacket, socks on my feet (& hands!), clutching my thin fleece blanket while shivering the first few nights.  I have a bed now, though, so all is better.  Plus, I put my stove together and can always cut up some ginger and enjoy a warm cup of tea or make some pseudo-hot chocolate when it gets a bit nippy.  Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that I'm in Africa.  Luckily, the reality sinks in as I trudge up and down my mini-mountain to and from the health center and take in the stunning view.