“I am 32 flavors and then some / And I’m beyond your peripheral vision / So you might want to turn your head / ‘Cause someday you are gonna’ get hungry / And eat most of the words that you said”

           I’ve been doing a lot of sitting at the Health Center (Centre de Santé).  This is what I’m supposed to do.  Just sit, be present, integrate, and observe.  Still, it feels foreign to me and I’m realizing that I’m more impatient - especially with myself - than I originally thought.  I usually bring a book to read, or French exercises to practice, but also find myself writing detailed To Do lists (describing exactly what I’m going to make for dinner or reminding myself to wash my dishes and my laundry…as if I’m going to walk through my door and suddenly forget these things).  It’s a very American concept of needing to have every hour accounted for to feel productive…if only to yourself.  The Health Center isn’t exactly a busy place, but I try to talk every now and then to the occasional patient or visitor who arrives.  This is how I received a prediction that my life may be in danger.

If it is deemed necessary for someone to be put in one of the health center’s rooms (the equivalent to being ‘admitted’ to a room in the States - without all that paperwork getting in the way), they get an uncomfortable cot, but no sense of round-the-clock care.  In fact, the patient’s family/friends are responsible for bathing them, washing their clothes, and even providing meals.  One boy, no more than 8 years old, accompanied his grandmother who was “visiting” a relative, and had spent several hours there.  He noticed that I was chewing gum and became very adamant that I give him the gum that was in my mouth so he could throw it out.  I thought there might be a language misunderstanding so kept asking him to repeat it.  He proceeded to tell me that if I accidentally swallowed my chewing gum, I would in fact, die.  I’ve heard of a few health myths in Cameroon (dirty mangoes cause malaria, condom use doesn’t protect against AIDS, etc.), but this was a first.  I explained that I wasn’t going to spit my gum in his hand, and that I wasn’t planning on swallowing my gum - but if I did, I would indeed live.  So perhaps I’m doing some health education after all… 

I attended a medicinal plants presentation organized by an Agro-forestry volunteer in the West.  Even though I contributed minimally (briefly talking on typhoid), it was quite interesting.  Despite being only a few hours away, it was even drier there, and walking on the dirt paths produced a poof of red dust with each step.  The dry season means that everything is covered with a thin layer of red-orange dirt, including my skin.  Each night when I remove my sandals and scrub my feet I play the exciting game of “Dirty or Tan-line?”  [As an aside, I passed through the regional capital on my return to my village and discovered a great bakery/pastry shop (boulangerie/pâtisserie) with a soft serve ice cream machine in front.  This could be a downfall for my monthly banking trip there…]

Sadly, I also learned of the death of the 16-year-old niece of Monique, the woman in my compound.  The details surrounding her mysterious illness and subsequent death are a little confusing, so I’m not exactly sure of the cause.  Either way, she was brought here to Bapa for burial and I was invited to attend the funeral.  While the ceremony was a bit different than in the States, much was the same…and I can attest that grief is a powerfully universal emotion. 

On a more positive note, my place is starting to feel more “home-y.”  Keeping everything clean helps, and I somewhat look forward to my weekly routine of washing the floors.  I went to bed with a big smile the day I scrubbed the bedframe, covered the mattress in fabric, and finally threw on a blanket.  Snuggling under the covers has a way of making everything cozy.  For meals, some days I get ambitious and create flavorful dishes like rice with fresh ginger and peanut sauce.  Other nights, I fry up some zucchini, pop some popcorn in my kettle, and call it a night.

Next post: Christmas/Birthday/New Years celebrations