"I came to win, to fight, to conquer, to thrive / I came to win, to survive, to prosper, to rise / To fly / To fly"

As the academic year kicked off, I was able to pay school fees for the 4 recipients of A2Empowerment scholarships.  These bright girls were each chosen earlier this year to receive money that covers the bulk of their annual academic costs, plus a few other incidentals.  We decided to roll out our mandatory meetings into a larger Girls Club to reach more young women in the village.  We’re meeting twice a month and kicked off the initiative listening to music while putting together a group timeline and resume of our collective skills and talents.  At our second gathering, we discussed financial matters and the importance of budgeting.  An engaging, informal conversation followed the teaching points, and then I introduced them to making paper beads.

Diokene Maiva

Tchamegne Fezeu Amelie

 



Teneng Germerie Wondon





Tchuendem Simo Gabrelle Cynthia



Having been away from village for nearly half of August, I tried to make up for it by touring Bapa, delivering homemade soap and greeting people I hadn’t seen in awhile.  This included a trip to the chefferie to see the chief and one of his wives.  The Chief of Bapa is extremely well-regarded within the Bamileke culture, and I only wish our conversations weren’t so awkward (though admittedly this is largely my fault).  Our interactions always make me nervous and I invariably end up sitting there with furtive darting eyes as I feel the sweat collecting behind my knees.  He was just back from his third (yup, third) trip to the United States which should have given us loads to talk about but I left feeling even less prepared to have normal conversations with people when I leave Cameroon. 

Although I was hoping to have another “film screening” chez moi, the projector wasn’t working well so instead the kids and I crowded around the tiny screen of my computer and watched “She’s the Man.”  The older kids liked it (soccer, teen humor, Amanda Bynes impersonating a boy…what’s not to love?!?!), but the younger kids were a bit lost so I indulged them in watching the animated “Kirikou and the Sorcerer” which by my tally means we’re into double digits viewing. 

One the eleventh anniversary of September 11^th, I was able to pay tribute in a most unusual way.  I spent the morning at the Health Center where, in between prenatal consultations, I read a few chapters from Nine Parts of Desire, a book about the role of women in Islam and what the Koran says about such matters.  On my way home, I stopped to chat with the Father of the Catholic Church in village and ended up having a lengthy discussion with a few people about development, politics, peace, and the lingering effects of 9/11 on Americans and throughout the world.  Building my global cultural perspective is perhaps the best way I can pay homage to the tragedy that unfolded that day.  In commemorating the lives that were lost, I think the best piece of advice I can give is to reflect on the power each of us has to do/feel/love – and pursue endeavors that convey this.

In somewhat disappointing news, I learned that the nurse at the health center and my pseudo-counterpart had been affected to a new post in the region.  This sealed the nail in the coffin that I wouldn’t be replaced by a Health PCV, but I was hopeful that perhaps the time was ripe for a Youth Development volunteer given my increasing work in that area.  Unfortunately, this is not to be, so Bapa is officially being closed this round.  I am very saddened that it seems all our efforts were in vain – not to mention it means I must pack up and deal with getting rid of *everything* instead of just passing it off to my replacement.

Of course, it was bittersweet thinking about leaving as September marked my 2-year anniversary from starting this entire crazy adventure.  A volunteer in a remote village in the West Adamawa had invited us to her post to celebrate.  It was a journey to get there (from Bapa to Bafoussam, then Bafoussam to Bamenda, and Bamenda to Kumbo for the night, followed by Kumbo to Songkolong to arrive at our party destination), but I’m so glad I went.  Along one of the legs, I was crammed in the backseat of a car with three other volunteers from my training group.  Despite the lack of wiggle room, I was content.  It down-poured at first but eventually we settled in and enjoyed the drive while sharing earbuds to listen to music as we made our way to Kumbo.  Kumbo is a great town and it was nice to just relax and enjoy each other’s company.  Plus, the street food is fantastic and I enjoyed “fried Irish” (fried potatoes) topped with an omelet. This was eaten with my hands out of a black plastic bag - which has a way of making anything you eat seem a little more shameful - but was delicious!  The next day, we filled two cars going to Songkolong but this time around, four in the backseat got uncomfortable fast so I offered to take “petite chauffeur” (i.e. you share the seat with the driver and make do as he reaches over your thighs to shift).  In total, there were 15 visitors to Songkolong, which delighted and slightly overwhelmed this village where water, electricity, and cell phone reception are rare.  It was a jovial night as we recounted our initial meeting in Philadelphia, first roommates, and the incredible memories we’ve made up to this point.

The morning brought omelets for our bellies and saying goodbyes as we headed back to Kumbo and the half-way point to get back to the West.  I visited a Cameroonian artist’s gallery and was so impressed I did a very adult-like thing and bought a 3-piece painting of a tree at sunset that I fell in love with the instant I laid eyes on it.  Forget the fact that I don’t know where I’ll be living or what I’ll be doing after Peace Corps, I know this art will be a fixture that will remind me of my time here.

Being the good Bamileke cat that she is, Cardamom “blessed” me with 6 more kittens.  Her fertility is infuriating and I’d be more angry with her if the kittens weren’t so darn cute.  Unfortunately, this is yet another thing I need to deal with as I wrap up my time here…    

Deric is my friend Mimi’s baby and he turned 1-year-old near the end of the month and I promised to photograph the guest of honor. We all laughed as he wobbled about on unsteady feet but refused to let that stop him from getting down and dancing to the music.  Mimi had also made quite possibly the best Cameroonian cake I’ve had in this country (she told me her secret is to add yogurt – genius!).

The birthday boy!

Dance party!



My favorite 1-year-old



September wrapped up with the biggest Peace Corps party to date – PROMEROON – hosted by the West region (I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again - the *best* region).  Since many people were coming in to celebrate, I invited people to my house the day before.  Although my 2-bedroom apartment is small, we had a cozy Girls Night with seven of us.  It was well after dark by the time we arrived, and we commenced dinner preparation in the dark, eventually enjoying dinner of naan, rice, and Indian curry (potatoes, canned peas and tomatoes, tofu, and coconut milk) by candlelight.  We thoroughly stuffed ourselves before the storm passed and the power returned.

We had planned on doing yoga the next morning, but the lingering effects of rainy season meant that plan was scrapped and we instead settled on a relaxed morning of lazing around the house listening to music and watching TV while making coconut French toast for breakfast and fried rice and roasted potats (white sweet potatoes) with lime and chili vinaigrette for lunch.  We packed up and walked to the nearby village for the Prom festivities – taking a “short cut” and blaring music along the way.

I had intended to arrange a late-night car that would take those interested back to my house, but we were unable to find a willing driver so instead returned to my house to pick up bedding.  This turned out to be another adventure as the moto men refused to follow the directions to my house (or me yelling the entire time that we were going the wrong direction).  We ended up taking the “scenic route” through Bapa and, just when I thought I couldn’t get more exasperated, one of the motos ran out of gas.  We trudged along on foot, thankful for the full moon and trying to find the humor in the entire situation.  Eventually, we made it to the party and kicked off the festivities and I was impressed that guests went all out with dresses/suits, hair, and makeup.  Much of the evening involved sitting around the bonfire in our finery, and I even presented my friend and fellow Health volunteer in the West, Marcelle, with a chocolate coconut cake I had made for her birthday. 

Sequined beauties in the middle:  Inspired by "Toddlers & Tiaras" but perfect for a "Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion" re-enactment

Me and the Birthday girl

In the world of other kitchen concoctions, I attempted to make bagels but didn’t quite succeed.  While all were moister than the typical doughy delight, half of the batch strangely tasted like English muffins and the rest like plain doughnuts.  Bizzare.  Of course, I smeared them with some Vache Qui Rit and ate them anyway…  Also, despite not usually liking mayonnaise, I had a strange craving for my mom’s potato salad so attempted my own version (along with egg salad sandwiches another day).  To make up for the caloric laden meals of late, I’m trying to get back into yoga and running, but it remains a struggle to make this a part of my routine. 

"Party rock is in the house tonight / Everybody just have a good time / And we gonna make you lose your mind / Everybody just have a good time"

My time in Tanzania ended just as I was due in the capital for our Completion of Service conference.  COS time is a week of reflecting on what you’ve accomplished and preparing for the transition afterwards.  The formal agenda aside, it’s also the last time to see everyone from your training group (many of whom I hadn’t seen since our In-Service Training in March 2011).  The administrative side was chaos per usual, with nearly four dozen of us all attempting to fill out the required paperwork while catching up on each others' lives and post-PC plans.  The plus side is that all this was handled in the comfort of a swanky hotel in Yaounde.  Most of us being fresh out of the village were more than a little thrown by the accommodations and amenities.  Air-conditioning?  WiFi?  Elevators?  Hot showers?  A pool?  As jarring as it was at first, it’s amazing how quickly one adapts to that lifestyle. 

Health/Agro PCVs 2010-2012

Nostalgia reigned supreme during the week, aided by a video kick-off that a few people had put together highlighting some of our experiences in the past two years.  Having the opportunity to see everyone was great, but the entire COS process was a little overwhelming.  The first morning of the conference, administration casually said that, since we had 15 minutes, we could decide our COS dates.  Anxiety swept the room, as life suddenly started to feel very real.  Forget that many of us were still in the throes of trying to figure out our immediate plans.  We were given 5 distinct weeks as options, and asked to write our top picks on a Post-It note.  After a minute of deliberation as to what would work best for me, I decided that I didn’t have anything so pressing that it should complicate someone with actual plans, and wrote “Whatever.”  As fate would have it, I got the last group, set to gong out December 7^th, which is probably perfect for me.     

The rest of the week had its ups and downs, with sessions ranging from resume help and medical coverage, to learning the fate of our posts - replacement or not - and even a visit to an amazing primate rehabilitation center (learn more at www.apeactionafrica.org ).

(Primate photos courtesy of Yaya Tang)

 

Rather than give in to the panic attack that was brewing over the 3-month/6-month/1-year/5-year life decisions that should be made, I chose to enjoy the moments with friends who have become more like family (and, on more than one occasion, therapists).  This meant long evenings and late nights thus exasperating my already exhausted state.  By the time the week was over, I was fighting off fatigue and a two-week head cold so barely said my goodbyes before passing out - aided by a fair amount of Sudafed - and sleeping the weekend away.

Between presentations, vacation, COS Conference, and meetings, I had been away from village far too long.  I was missing Bapa something fierce so happy to get back to the peaceful day-to-day life.  My neighbors welcomed me back and I doled out the gifts I had gotten for them.  It’s a Cameroonian tradition to ask “Tu me gards quoi?,” or “What did you guard me?”  A lot of PCVs get upset by this question, since we invariably get it from nearly *everyone* - especially after you’ve been gone for more than a few days (heck, I often get it just walking through village on a random Tuesday).  I’ve tried to remain optimistic and consider the underlying intention rather than the surface meaning.  Most people aren’t upset if you have nothing to offer but an empty hand and a smile.  For those you can offer a gift to, it’s less about the present and more about the fact that you cared enough to think about them while you were away.  I can respect this, and I equate it to my friend Sarah always giving me her airplane snack when I would pick her up from the airport.  It had less to do with me somehow *loving* tiny packets of crackers or cookies, and more to do with what the gesture represented.   

The kids took care of (i.e. wore out) Cardamom while I was gone.  Before they got the cash though, we did math on the chalkboard to calculate exactly how much they had earned.

With time ticking on these village moments, I’m vowing to live it up and soak up as many cultural exchanges are possible.  Sooo…I spent several days in August just hanging out at my house with the door open and people coming in and out casually.  We made banana bread and lemon squares, listened to music, made paper beads, and watched pirated versions of “America’s Best Dance Crew” (admittedly I thought Cameroonians would be more impressed by their moves than they were…).  In exchange, I got informal patois lessons and learned how to make one of my favorite Cameroonian dishes – koki.

The neighbor girl is getting really good at these necklaces and bracelets

 Food-wise?  Besides gorging on delicious meals in Yaounde (pizza, fruit tarts, Indian food, etc.), there were also tasty concoctions in the transit house – stir fries, cake from a mix and chemically induced frosting from a tub.  I also had my mind blown with a simple breakfast egg and cheese sandwich with slices of refrigerated avocado.  The combination of warm and cold, melty and buttery was a great way to start the day.  Being exposed to so many good eats helped kick me out of my food slump at post.  I attempted to recreate the lime garlic fettuccini I had while on vacation and was reasonably successful all things considered.  Growing up, Friday evenings were often soup and popcorn nights so I commemorated that to kick off one weekend, putting my blender to use whipping up a thick tomato soup.  At a Peace Corps gathering, we did foil vegetable packets.  I had forgotten how good roasted veggies (zucchini, eggplant, green peppers, and onions) with a little salt, paper, oil, and vinegar can be.  This along with grilled pineapple and chocolate cake made for a perfect evening around a bonfire.  Finally, I threw together an oatmeal spice cake with toasted coconut for a friend’s birthday.           

It’s exciting to have an end-date in sight, though I’m trying to continue to be present and soak up this experience instead of get caught up in the “after.”  With that said though, I can officially let it be known that I’ll be traveling for potentially several months after I end my service here, and am open to suggestions and travel partners.  Any and all recommendations and advice will be taken into consideration.  In the spirit of spontaneity, I'm currently operating without a plan right now, so the world is mine. Basically though, name a country and it's on my Bucket List. Seriously... in a dream world, I'd touch on all 6 continents (Antarctica will have to wait for another time.)  I just feel like after what I've been through here, I'm going to need some time to process everything - and I don't know if the U.S. is the best place to do that. Plus, it seems to be an ideal time in my life.  So...if you have any plans to be abroad through the first half of 2013 and are interested in having a travel buddy, let me know details!  

                                     

"Leave your troubles, leave your fears / We'll get back to those next year / Will you choose or change your mind / Take a walk or take a ride"

An impromptu decision to use up the rest of my vacation days before I’m no longer able to do so resulted in planning a trip with someone from my training group.  Lindsay and I have a history of awful travel mishaps, but we threw caution to the wind and chose an adventure in Tanzania. With several communication problems (she doesn’t have electricity or cell phone service at her post), we forged ahead and bought the plane tickets with the understanding that we’d be winging most of the itinerary.

 

We started off as expected – rushed and wondering if we’d be narrowly missing our flight.  Luckily though, we struck up a conversation with an amicable mama selling bean sandwiches who tracked down a private car for us.  Tired from not sleeping more than two hours the night before, I fell asleep in the backseat, only waking every now and then to hear snippets of the driver’s music.  At first I found it catchy but Lindsay’s wide-eyed expression and raised eyebrow begged me to listen closely to the lyrics which were full of intense messages about abortion and “Micky Mouse Freedom.”  We made it to Douala in record time though and settled comfortably into our seats for the official start to our vacation – signified by a crappy in-flight movie and mediocre airplane food that tasted so good I was practically licking the wrapper.  

After a quick layover in Addis Ababa, we arrived in Dar es Salaam.  Although there were a lot of people clamoring to get their visas, we were in no hurry since it was 2am and we had nowhere to go.  Not trusting middle of the night transportation, we napped on some benches for a few hours until dawn when we took a taxi to the YWCA.  We slept a bit more until we felt ready to face the day, then set out towards the nice part of town.  We were clearly entering ex-pat territory and things were a bit overpriced, but after two years of fighting against the tourist stigma, we made a pact that we’d allowed ourselves minor indulgences on this trip. 

The next morning, we took the ferry to Zanzibar, an island just off the coast.  The ride was a little choppy but it still felt glamorous.  After a few tries, we settled into a hostel that had rooms open (it wasn’t in our guidebook, but had reasonable rates, friendly staff, and free WiFi!) and then went in search of lunch to quell our groaning stomachs.  We were looking for a particular Italian restaurant we had heard about, but got a little lost (and were given blatantly wrong directions by people we asked) so were particularly eager when we finally arrived.  I rushed right to the railing to take in the stunning ocean view then heard a voice behind me call my name.  In a small-world coincidence, it was Suzanne, a friend/classmate/fellow American Studies major from college!  I was speechless at the thought of all the details that came together for our random reunion.  Lunch was amazing (lime garlic penne followed by chocolate cake topped with mango ice cream) and we worked off the calories afterwards by walking around leisurely exploring shops and trying on dresses.  While having sunset drinks on a rooftop bar, we ran into Suzanne and her friend again so enjoyed the evening catching up and hearing about what everyone has been up to.  We capped off the evening by partaking in sugar cane juice and the street food of the night market. 

Manch Lodge - our charming hostel in Stonetown

Oceanside view from Amore Mio Italian restaurant

19th-Century Anglican Cathedral, next to the Old Slave Market

Monument to the slave trade

Stonetown

Night market

Zanzibar is made up of Stonetown, the historical touristy west side of the island, and...well…everything else.  The north and east coasts have beautiful beaches and we decided to head to one of these.  We had a general idea that we wanted to try Paje Beach, but weren’t entirely set on where to stay.  During the bus ride across the island, I rattled off a few names we were thinking of, but the charger warned that they might be full.  He recommended a new place that hadn’t really gotten publicity yet, but in keeping with the spirit of being open to suggestions, we said we’d check it out.  Our van pulled up to a resort with bungalows dotting the landscape right alongside a white sand beach.  Lindsay and I looked at each other and tried not to say “We’ll take it” too eagerly.  The restaurant overlooked the water and we spent the evening taking it all in and treating ourselves once again to delicious food.

In a word...paradise

The next day was all about utter relaxation as we lounged on the beach chairs.  I went in the water a few times but mainly we just lay out in the sun reading and napping all day.  I walked along the beach to explore a bit and allowed the hammock to lull me into an afternoon snooze.  Unfortunately, common sense was also on vacation as I didn’t apply nearly enough sunscreen throughout the day.  By evening, we realized we were burnt to a crisp on our legs and backs.  Despite the crisp cool white sheets of the bed, I was suffering as I attempted to sleep. 

Footprints

The ferry back to Dar es Salaam was a bit rougher than the first but with a Bendadryl in my system, I barely noticed.  At one point, I woke up but Lindsay cautioned that I should go back to sleep immediately.  Too late – I was now awake to witness people throwing up left and right.  (As an aside, Benadryl [diphenhydramine] works on your H2 receptors – the same ones that dramamine works on so it’s a cheap alternative to avoid motion sickness.)        

We checked back into the YWCA, making do with the fact that the only place they had available was a sketchy sliver of a room with the wall falling down around the holes.  We dined like Americans at a fast food complex that served up a bizarrely mealy veggie burger and fries, but had strangely creamy soft-serve ice cream.  Having heard of a rooftop bar overlooking the bay, we instead found ourselves walking along an extraordinarily plush red carpet up to the foyer of a lavish hotel, nervous at our out-of-place villageois appearance and demeanor.  Throwing caution to the wind, we found the elevator and arrived at the top floor where we were immediately sized up and somehow allowed to proceed.  (Tank top? Check.  Flip-flops?  Check.  Pocket full of just enough shillings to order one thing on the drink list?  Check.)  Sometimes you resign yourself to saving money on lodging and food so you can spend money on things that really matter – like a fancy drink and a nighttime view of the city.

In order to afford this...

The hole makes it easy to talk to your neighbors!

...we slept here.

 

The next day, we were off to Arusha in a huge coach bus.  Tanzania has public transportation down to a science and Lindsay and I were in shock by it all:  good music, comfy seats (1 whole seat per person!), no chickens/goats/urinating babies to share the space…  Heck, we even got complimentary cookies and a bottle of Coca Cola!  I read off and on throughout the 10-hour ride, and we arrived in Arusha at dusk.  Unfortunately, our carefree attitude wasn’t such a great idea here, as we found it was going to be too late and/or too expensive to organize either a short safari or trip to Ngorongoro Crater.  Since we were going to be saving money though, we splurged on another mid-priced hotel instead of enduring another hostel in our itchy sunburned condition.  Owned by a very sweet Chinese man, the restaurant featured the same cuisine and I helped myself to a platter of fried eggplant.

Since we had no itinerary the next day, we got to sleep in before casually strolling around exploring the fairly developed town.  After getting some ice cream, I went fabric shopping which involved the requisite bargaining process.  We had intended to try another restaurant for dinner, but when it was nowhere to be found we returned to the Chinese restaurant in the hotel and I enjoyed deep fried bananas for dinner.  (Hey, it’s a vacation, right?)      

Our return to Dar was a seemingly never-ending 12-hour bus ride.  The only highlights were the 2 hours of Westlife music videos (they were an Irish boy band) followed by an hour of NSync.  (Come on, is there really any contest in who wins the title for best 90s entertainment?)  We gorged ourselves on dairy for our last meal in the city as we ordered both pizza and cheesy garlic bread.  Then, it was off to the airport where we waited around until our flight.  Despite the sleep deprivation, I couldn’t get comfortable on the plane.  Our final leg from Addis Ababa to Douala was surely dominated by Cameroonians as it involved the typical lack of order that I’ve come to associate with this country:  people boarding and then thinking they could casually leave the plane for a bit until we took off, not sitting in their assigned places resulting in fights as other people searched for their seats, oversized luggage, stealing extra tiny bottles of wine, etc.  Luckily, my vacation euphoria hadn’t quite worn off yet, so I was able to just exchange one of those looks with Lindsay that says “On va faire comment?”

The in-flight movie was pretty good and again, I ate almost every crumb offered to me.  We arrived in Douala and chaos reigned as we made our way through the visa checkpoints and baggage area.  We waited 2 ½ hours for our luggage before learning that it wouldn’t be making an appearance today.  This meant we’d be spending the night in Douala, so we filled out the required paperwork and made our way to the Catholic mission.  We were exhausted and frustrated, but I felt glad to be back in Cameroon and ready to tackle the next few months of service.  

Lindsay is a great travel buddy (and a *master* at coming up with questions when there’s a lull!) and I’m so glad I followed her spontaneous invitation to travel.  Tanzania was sublime, and I highly recommend it.  (And with any luck, I’ll be able to return someday…)