Saturday, April 16, 2011

“Let me clear my throat, ah huh ah huh / … / Every step tango’d / Your beat don’t concern me / I’m eatin’ mangoes in Trinidad wit’ attorneys”


Having been in our communities for nearly 4 months, it was time for In-Service Training at the end of March.  For this, each of us was to invite a counterpart (homologue) – someone we anticipate working with on future projects – to the 4-day seminar.  Due to personnel issues within the Health Center, there was a fair amount of deliberation but I eventually decided to ask the nurse.  However, like most things in Cameroon, there was a bureaucratic process to make this happen.  After privately explaining to her why she was my choice, I was informed that I would have to discuss it with the president of some of the area health centers.  After arranging a meeting with him, he agreed with my selection, but said that I would need to clear it with the Chief of the Health Center.  This man cautiously agreed, but told me that, because she is a government employee, he would have to seek approval from the Sous-Prefet.  And, after all these hoops were cleared, there was still the fact that she needed to have permission from her husband!  Despite the obstacles, I'm happy with my selection and think we both benefited from attending the seminar together.      

The training was in the north so I decided to use the opportunity to explore a bit of the country afterwards.  First stop?  Yaounde, the capital of Cameroon.  Having only spent a frenzied day here upon my arrival in-country back in September, it was nice to explore a bit more.  The chaos I initially experienced is still there, but I find I’m almost non-plussed by it now.        

The overnight train from Yaounde to Ngaoundere was nicer than I expected, and having sleeper car (wagon-lit) accommodations for our group made for a relaxing evening.  Thankfully, the route only took the normal 14-15 hours (derailments are common and can leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere waiting for the other half of the train to return and reconnect). 


It was great seeing everyone again, catching up, and learning about one another’s respective posts.  In the back of my mind, it was strange to think that this would be the last time the group would be together before our Close of Service conference in late 2012.  Nevertheless, now was the time for living in the moment – and there were plenty of moments to be had.    

Cameroon is known to be incredibly diverse, but the Grand North felt like a completely different world.  From geography and climate to food and music, you can travel 10 kilometers in this country and see something new.  Although considerably hotter, I generally found the north to be calmer and more efficient.  (Though, when it’s 120 degrees, who has the energy to argue?)  Even bargaining at the outdoor markets was a pleasant experience.   (I still got ripped off, but at least I was able to joke around with the vendors.)  At first, I was unaccustomed to the heat – likening it to the feeling of someone constantly breathing on you – but I quickly adjusted and came to enjoy the opportunity to sleep outside at night.

Located in Ngaoundere - Karaoke bar...owned by Muslims...complete with laser lights and bubble machine.  (Which begs the question: Can it still be called a karaoke bar if they don't sell alcohol?)
  
Maroua is the northern most regional capital, and was a perfect vacation destination.  The city is beautiful, clean, and Cameroonian-cosmopolitan with tree-lined streets.  
Mangoes at the market.  Sooooo good...
  
A group of us arranged to see Waza, Cameroon’s national park.  While it didn’t turn out to be a full-blown safari experience (no elephants, hippos, or lions on this particular day), it was fun spotting giraffes, monkeys, warthogs, antelopes, and various birds.    







A few of us also decided to take in Rhumsiki, a traditional village that commercially caters to visitors.  Part of the journey to get there included doubling up on motos for an hour-and-a-half ride.  The combination of a far-too-bold driver, uncomfortable seat, and a rugged road left us sore and shaky on dismounting the bike, but the sunset views I witnessed along the way were jaw-dropping.  Our travel woes were soon forgotten as we indulged in a MAGNIFICENT dinner (who knew 6-course meals existed in Cameroon?) under the stars. 
Rhumsiki



























All in all, my vacation was full of touristy attractions, but also gave me downtime to relax with friends. I’m so glad I had the opportunity to explore this country and better know my fellow volunteers.  We laughed harder than we have in months, consoled each other on personal and professional frustrations, and said goodbye to new acquaintances.   I immensely enjoyed the time off, and have an even greater appreciation for this country…but I’ll admit that it’s good to be back in village, too.     


Sunday, April 3, 2011

“Readymade, readymade / Baby oughta celebrate / Readymade, readymade / And now it’s time to deviate”


I finally felt that I was starting to make progress in my community in terms of work during the month of March, though it was slow-going.  I conducted a lengthy facility survey at my health center, attempting to make it as comprehensive as possible, covering equipment, supplies, medications available, services offered, etc.  I also tried to attend a meeting with a community group, but in typical Cameroonian fashion, people didn’t show up.   Instead of just sitting and reading to bide time like I normally do, I whipped out my Leatherman tool and delved into the task at hand with the nearby group of women who were cleaning onions (les oignons) to get them ready for planting.  By the end of two hours, I reeked of onions, and my hands were filthy and bleeding a bit from the thin cuts of my sharp knife, but I think the village mamas were impressed by my skills.

International Women’s Day (Journée internationale de la femme) came and went and, although I had purchased a kaba (think muumuu meets circus tent) with the traditional print for the day, I didn’t end up going to any festivities as I needed to work on a lecture for the mothers who brought their children to the Health Center for the monthly vaccination day.  I presented on cholera (as well as the fecal-oral route of disease transmission and the general problems of a common water source) given that there was a minor “epidemic” reported in my region.   


A fairly typical scene here.  I'm hoping they got the point despite my abysmal attempt at drawing.
UNICEF estimates that 1 child every 30 seconds dies due to diarrheal disease.  Overall, I don't know if I've permanently changed any behavior, but at least a few people seemed intrigued by my "magic show" handwashing demo.  Try it at home if you'd like:  Sprinkle a bit of spice - cinnamon works really well - on a plate of water and say that it represents germs/bacteria/viruses/microbes/pathogens/feces.  Rinse your hands with water and then dip your finger in.  Nothing happens.  Now wash your hands with soap and dip your finger in.  The soap "CHASES" the germs away.  Fun for everybody!!!!

I’ve also started teaching English at a local elementary school once a week.  Despite not being a bilingual school, many already know the basics so we’re starting slow but I’m impressed thus far.  Lesson one was getting my name down, and that, while there are many variations, La Blanche (“the white”) is not one of them.  This has been quite successful as I now sometimes hear a teenager refer to me by that name and immediately hear a younger child correct them (“That’s not her name!  It’s Madame Charmayne!”)  The school is literally mud bricks, a chalkboard, and a few benches with the 25-or-so kids usually sharing a few individual slates and occasionally some paper and pens.  Even still, at the end of my first day teaching, they presented me with a tiny pineapple.  I nearly started crying…   

There are a few other projects in the planning stages but I don’t know if the funding will come through.

In news on the homefront, I now am the proud owner of a kitten (chaton).  I didn't really think I'd get one but decided the company was worth it.  (I somehow seem *more* crazy talking to myself than talking to a cat, right?)  Cardamom was the name the other PCV had given her and I decided to keep it as such since I’m missing chai tea these days.  She has already been pulling her weight by eating the large insects that invade the house.  I swear these wasps have exoskeletons made of titanium from the sounds they make as they hit my ceiling.  She'll eat them as long as I bat them down to the ground for her.  Gooooooo teamwork.  It's a good thing my life isn't being filmed.  Lamest.  Reality show.  Ever.  

Working on presentations is tiring
I'm enjoying having her though.  She's got such a big personality she cracks me up.  My first day as a "new parent" involved a long moto ride with her flipping out in the box I was clutching.  We arrived home to find the power was out in the village and she managed to burn her whiskers on my candle.  Nevertheless, she insisted on sleeping on me that night - as she has ever since - so I knew we'd be okay.  She goes a little nuts running laps around my bed within the confines of my protective mosquito net, but we're making do.     

My kitchen concoctions continue as I experiment making everything from lentil burgers and pancakes to chocolate cake and roasted soybeans.  Okay, and not to make everything about the cat but I've also learned she enjoys eating avocados and roasted soybeans so I'm officially raising a hippie.

I had the opportunity to go to a fellow PCVs village for a cultural festival.  Every two years, the chief of the village purifies the fields and the people to prepare for a good corn crop (apparently when done correctly, you don’t need to celebrate annually).  The day was complete with dancing, chicken plucking, goat beheading, palm wine sprinkling, and forehead henna benedictions.  It was a fantastic event and I’m so glad I got to participate.  In a strange Western Africa meets Western “development” moment, the chief also unveiled the village’s incredible new media center with multiple computers and high speed Internet access. 

 
In other strange moments, the St. Patty’s Day holiday was passed over without notice here.  Surprising, right?  Instead, I spent the 17th discussing my general health with the Peace Corps Nurse who came to my post for routine site inspection, talking about the American tax system with the nurse at my health center, and playing soccer with the kids in my compound while I blared music by the Red Hot Chili Peppers.  All in all, I’m tackling sharing culture.