“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 17^th 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.