"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…)

“July, July, July / It never seemed so strange /… / And we'll remember this when we are old and ancient / Though the specifics might be vague”

For the 4^th of July, I decided to take my allotted vacation days and spend some time away from Bapa seeing other PCVs in the West and generally enjoying the downtime.  Even though I didn’t spend the day as planned with my toes dipped in the Atlantic Ocean at the beach, I had a very nice Independence Day.  After helping a neighboring volunteer with her tofu demonstration, we headed to another friend’s house for an evening of Mexican food followed by S’mores.  (You know…as our forefathers intended!)  

Normally when we visit each other, our time is limited and we’re always rushed getting there and then racing to get out first thing in the morning so we can get back to our respective posts.  This time though, we took the opportunity to go “tree-tapping” with one of her friends in village.  Raffia wine (vin de raphia) is a refreshing drink that starts off fruity when you first collect it from the tree.  It ferments quickly though, so is best enjoyed fresh when it is still cool, bubbly and fizzy.  Despite stumbling through the fields and woods to get it (I lost my flip-flops to the mud several times), I’m glad I got to see the process.  We even enjoyed the beverage alongside homemade crêpes for breakfast.  The rest of the morning was equally relaxing as we lazed around and watched Out of Africa.         

Back in village, I spent several days without electricity.  Now, there are several people (including other volunteers) for whom this is a way of life, but it’s jarring for those of us accustomed to the “Posh Corps” way of life.  Needless to say, too much downtime meant productivity took a hit and I instead chose to create a crossword puzzle for my Stateside friend, Sarah.

 

The neighbor kids came over one afternoon and we worked on responding to pen-pal letters that Sarah had organized from children she works with in North Carolina.  There was a lot of confusion at first about what we were doing, but I was pleased with the results and it was a nice lesson in geography, grammar, and culture-sharing.  I rewarded them by showing the film Kirikou et la Sorcière again when the power returned later that evening.

 

I had heard that there were small waterfalls (chutes d’eau) at the edge of Bapa, so before the two volunteers in the neighboring village ended their service, we set out to see them.  The falls themselves aren’t the most impressive things you’ll ever see, but they were still beautiful and it made for an enjoyable day hike.  I even got in which was cold but exhilarating at the same time.

Butterfly (papillon)

Kim, a PCV in a village 3 kilometers from my house, had been doing various presentations during the school break.  I tried my best to advertise these events around village and was pleased that a few people from Bapa attended.  One of the favorites amongst the girls in my neighborhood was bead-making.  We used old magazines and it turned out to be really fun and easy.  I’ve since taken to doing it myself during the evenings while watching a movie just to have something to do.

I also helped a fellow health volunteer with her Girls Camp.  Wesley is an absolute champ as she had organized a week-long overnight camp for a dozen adolescent girls.  (More power to her since I was whooped after only 2 days of helping!)  We covered topics ranging from anatomy and reproductive health, to goal setting and role models. 

By popular demand, I arranged a day of presentations at my house one Sunday afternoon.  The turnout was pretty good and we started a little late, but managed to cover bar soap (savon en morceau), powdered detergent (savon en poudre), wine-making, and an introduction to beading.  Of course, there were problems along the way (soap ingredients spilling all over the floor, oil refusing to melt, burning myself with the caustic materials, etc.) but we rolled with it and made do.  By the end of the day, I was exhausted and my house was a mess, but I was ecstatic.  Even though there was a party in my concession that meant loud noise lasting well into the night, I put in my earplugs and passed out almost immediately. 

The laundry detergent turned out (above) but there was a mini-explosion with the fermenting wine.  Helpful hint: Not leaving enough space in the top of the bottle will result in a spray of pineapple all around your house when you go to release some of the pressure…

My last act of “work” in July before taking off for vacation was to teach First Aid for the newest batch of Community Economic Development and Education trainees.  My time with them was short, but it was motivating to see another group of people eager to swear-in and become volunteers.  Of course, they’ll have big shoes to fill in replacing their predecessors who just wrapped up service.  Since I was back in the area, I stopped by to say hello to my two host families from when I went through training nearly two years ago.  I brought gifts from the West region (honey, shea butter, and pictures I had printed), and in turn was lavished with peanuts and a giant spaghetti omelet.  It was a bit awkward and everyone commented over and over again just how fat I’ve gotten (a supposed compliment that I’m obviously healthy and eating well) but seeing how people had changed and the babies had grown was jarring.  Life carries on and I can only imagine I’ll have these revelatory moments to an even greater extent when I return to the U.S. and catch up with friends and family.      

Per usual, I’ll end with the latest and greatest in the kitchen.  We indulged in S’more pie during the Girls Camp.Thanks to the volunteer on the left, Kalika, I’ve also managed to perfect a recipe for chocolate cake. I envision this being a staple at future Peace Corps get-togethers.  I’m also treating myself to buying canned chick peas every now and them so I can roast them.  Anything out of the ordinary is appreciated since I’ve been in a food rut.

Just when you think it can get no better than it does / It's always so much better than it ever was / It seems like all them good things come at once, yes it do / And just when you think it can't get any better than it does

33 Export – “Trente-trois” to use the common bar vernacular - is one of the top two beers here in Cameroon.  (At the standard 65cl size, it makes “normal” bottles in the States seem puny.)  So when a fellow volunteer knew she would be celebrating her 33rd birthday in-country, she planned to do it in style.  This meant I got to travel through the Anglophone Northwest region for another party.  I had been to the capital, Bamenda, before but had never really taken advantage of all it has to offer.  Fairly developed, it caters to tourists a bit better and I couldn’t help but have an “Is this still Cameroon?” moment while eating pasta salad and topping it off with a slice of frosted carrot cake.

Continuing on to where the festivities were to take place, we were 9 people in a car for two hours.  I took petite chauffeur, where you literally share the driver’s seat while he does his best to shift gears and navigate the winding roads.  It wasn’t so bad though, and all discomfort was soon forgotten as we enjoyed a buffet dinner of Cameroonian food.  Some other volunteers had made an impressive coconut cake and, when the power cut out at night we continued the food coma by making S’mores by the fire.

I spent the night in Bafoussam as I passed back through the West to return to post, but, due to logistical issues, the office was without electricity.  It was definitely a “Peace Corps” moment watching T.V. by the glow of the computer and then, when the faulty battery died, huddled close with a friend watching a movie on the screen of a tiny iPod.

After weeks of work, the Books for Cameroon library in village was ready to be seen by the public.  Unfortunately, since the school year was coming to an end, many of the staff would be taking off during the break to return to their respective homes (due to the system of affectation, many government employees don’t work where their families live).  I really wanted to drum up interest though, so we decided that I would open the library once a week – on market day – during the school break (congé).  Students aren’t able to check out books, but we talk about the library, have story-hour, and do various activities – drawing, watching movies, doing puzzles, crocheting discarded plastic sacks, etc.  It’s a little chaotic, but a lot of fun and it’s nice to see the space being used.

Bapa library - before

Bapa library - after

   

With a new physician in our health district, he offered his services to come and do hypertension/diabetes screening at the Bapa Health Center.  I was pleased to see a decent turnout amongst our older population, and I snuck in a presentation on the two health issues before the doctor arrived.  It was incredibly helpful having people informally help translate the points into the local patois since many village elders don’t speak French.  I was extremely impressed with the physician, who spent a minimum of 15-minutes with each patient, and didn’t even take a break!  Despite the long day, he even took the time to talk with me afterwards.  I was so heartened to meet such a motivated Cameroonian young professional, but could sense that he feels a bit overwhelmed with the disorder of our district and the health problems our communities face.      

Weekly prenatal consultations have been picking up, too.  I’ve had a few good talks with the pregnant women who come in, and I’ve even been invited into the exam.  Together, the nurse and I have a good rapport and we’re able to pass along a lot of information to the mothers-to-be.  I’ve even had the opportunity to feel for the position of the baby and listen for fetal heartbeats using a very basic fetoscope (think tin can meets funnel and you’ve got the equipment we’re working with here).

I also helped an Agroforestry volunteer with an HIV/AIDS presentation at her village’s Vaccination Day.  We discussed transmission routes and specifically MTCT (Mother To Child Transmission).  I’m coming to realize how much I enjoy discussing reproductive/sexual health.  Despite the openness of discussing certain seemingly-taboo things in a very public way in Cameroon, there are many myths and a lot of misinformation circulated.  By being armed with knowledge and bold confidence though (even if I have to fake it), I can tackle whatever comes my way – including condom demonstrations.     

My adventures in the kitchen in June included transforming Cameroonian food to near-authentic Mexican fare.  Using pre-made balls of cous-cous de maïs, I made arepas stuffed with Gouda cheese and served with a red cabbage/onion slaw on top.  It was smooth and creamy with a little bit of tang.  I also found someone selling fried tofu in Bafoussam (success!) and threw it in a vegetable stew.