The transition from health care provider to health care educator has been a somewhat difficult one for my antsy gotta’-do-something personality. In the States, I was certified to start IVs, administer cardiac medications, intubate, etc.; here, I’m qualified to give a lecture on malaria or the importance of hand washing. Such is the work of international development, but the hands-off methodology and the fact that for three months I’ve been in the classroom setting felt somewhat passive. I was glad, then, that my first week in village included an end of the year Vaccination Campaign with the Health Center. Day one was at the center, and it was encouraging to see dozens of mothers bring their babies. The next few days the campaign continued en brousse (literally, “in the bush”/in the middle of nowhere). There are 6 quartiers (areas/neighborhoods) in Bapa, and within a month I will have hopefully figured out their exact locations in relation to one another. For now, we split into teams and took motos to different destinations. Occasionally, for example at schools, we saw groups of children. Mostly though, we just walked and walked along ruggedly hilly terrain, searching for kids whom we could administer Vitamin A (good for eye health) and/or Mebendazole (for worms). Needless to say, there were quite a few children, which meant a lot of hiking in a skirt for yours truly.
There are approximately 250 languages in Cameroon, as many people speak a particular patois. I’ve had a few informal language lessons to learn some Bapa phrases (yup, the name of the village is the same as the maternal tongue), though it’s difficult as it resembles neither English nor French, yet similarly has its own set of rules.
I feel like I’m getting into a groove at home. It’s starting to feel – dare I say – normal? I’m loving having control over my meals. I finally got the opportunity to prepare Cameroonian couscous the way I believe it is intended – lightly seared in a bit of oil with spicy piment pepper – like polenta. As good as it was, I fear I may not be able to go back to eating it in its original mushy form.
I eat a banana or two for breakfast, pack my lunch (never has spreadable cheese, lettuce, tomato, and onion between crusty bread tasted so good!), and usually spend more time making dinner than it takes to consume it. Nevertheless, it’s comforting to sit on my steps and snip green beans, or listen to music while cutting up vegetables for spaghetti sauce (the radio blaring within the compound seems to alternate between Cameroonian political talk radio and American classics like Whitney Houston, Brittney Spears, and Boys II Men). For now, the children in my compound are content to hang off the bars of my windows, peering in at my every move while repeatedly attempting to say my name. I often feel like a zoo animal, but I’m hoping the fascination wears off…
I’m currently cat-sitting for a neighboring PCV (neighboring in the sense that my door to hers is a two-hour walk!). It’s nice to have this built into my weekly To Do list since there’s a lot of downtime. I also had to return to the regional capital, Bafoussam, to take care of protocol (meeting with officials…or at least dropping off the formal letter of introduction) and run errands. I got some much-needed supplies for my place and it was great to catch up with another new volunteer in the West. Not even the chicken in the taxi pooping on my market bag on the return trip could dampen my mood!
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