I spent 4 hours today washing 2 weeks worth of laundry in a plastic tub in the front yard with the children and the chickens running around - and the chickens make much less noise than the children.. I expect to become quite sturdy and strong as the weeks progress.
We are just 2 weeks away from the completion of training and we will swear in as bona fide volunteers on August 22. Training is called ‘stage’ (pronounced: stau j) and we all hate it. I know it will be a bit lonely at post the first few weeks but I am looking very forward to settling into my village and getting to know my colleagues and neighbors.
A bientôt et much love – Christine
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
August 1, 2007 : The weather is lovely – wish you were here
Getting to the cyber cafe and actually transmitting an email take a lot more effort than you may imagine.
Everything here takes abit more effort, planning, and attention than things in the developed world. For example, if you want chicken for dinner, you need to wait until Wednesday or Saturday for the "marché", that is "market day". You buy a live chicken for 3000 - 5000 cfa (6 - 10 USD), take it home, kill it, pluck it, cut it, build a wood fire, and cook it. The initial step - the cost - is a prohibitive factor for my home stay family, so I have not eaten any chicken since I got here!!
This is the rainy season and we had heavy rains most every day last week. There are few paved roads and the earth here is a rich, thick, red clay that turns to sticky red mud when it rains. It quickly accumulates on the bottom of your shoes and you find yourself carrying an inch thick layer of it with each step. All travel is cut short and we all stay put. Experiencing the rain here is very interesting - first you hear it, then you see it, then you feel it. I think maybe this is because there is so much tropical foliage everywhere and life is quieter than in the city. The sound carries across wider distances as the storm bursts approach announcing themselves with percussion on the broad banana leaves, corn stakes and wide brimmed trees.
The heavy rains tend to cause power outages as well. The days remain manageable - that is - you can continue about your usual business at school or at home as long as you tasks are manual and do not require electricity. The evenings however are much more restricted. My home stay family has 3 small children, ages 2, 6, and 7. The sun rises quickly at 6am and sets just as quickly at 6pm and the night is quite black by 7pm. At this point we set a kerosene lamp in the hall and everyone goes to bed. It is much safer to lie in bed than bang around in the dark house!! I have my own kerosene lamp in my room which I light, I lay on my bed, and listen to CDs with my headphones on. Its actually very peaceful and if it's still raining, I have the soothing sound of the rain falling on the tin roof. Rain or shine, I sleep like a baby every night, tucked safely under my mosquito netting.
Just sending an email takes me several trips to town. I have walked the mile to town only to discover that the power has gone out, the internet connection is not sound, or the computers were not working properly. Even when the stars align and I get online, there is no guarantee that it will not all crash at any moment. There are numerous attempted emails and journal entries floating out there in the ether that you will never receive!!
Over all, things are good here and I am a happy little camper. Everything is completely different from my past experiences but I am falling in love with Cameroon none the less. For the most part, the people are warm and kind hearted; they endure what life brings with courage, patience, and a sense of humor.
We've had 3 sunny days in a row but I'm not sure it will continue. The weather is so changeable and often turns cold quite quickly. I will sign off for now and be back in town to check my emails in a few days - after the next round of rainy days.
Everything here takes abit more effort, planning, and attention than things in the developed world. For example, if you want chicken for dinner, you need to wait until Wednesday or Saturday for the "marché", that is "market day". You buy a live chicken for 3000 - 5000 cfa (6 - 10 USD), take it home, kill it, pluck it, cut it, build a wood fire, and cook it. The initial step - the cost - is a prohibitive factor for my home stay family, so I have not eaten any chicken since I got here!!
This is the rainy season and we had heavy rains most every day last week. There are few paved roads and the earth here is a rich, thick, red clay that turns to sticky red mud when it rains. It quickly accumulates on the bottom of your shoes and you find yourself carrying an inch thick layer of it with each step. All travel is cut short and we all stay put. Experiencing the rain here is very interesting - first you hear it, then you see it, then you feel it. I think maybe this is because there is so much tropical foliage everywhere and life is quieter than in the city. The sound carries across wider distances as the storm bursts approach announcing themselves with percussion on the broad banana leaves, corn stakes and wide brimmed trees.
The heavy rains tend to cause power outages as well. The days remain manageable - that is - you can continue about your usual business at school or at home as long as you tasks are manual and do not require electricity. The evenings however are much more restricted. My home stay family has 3 small children, ages 2, 6, and 7. The sun rises quickly at 6am and sets just as quickly at 6pm and the night is quite black by 7pm. At this point we set a kerosene lamp in the hall and everyone goes to bed. It is much safer to lie in bed than bang around in the dark house!! I have my own kerosene lamp in my room which I light, I lay on my bed, and listen to CDs with my headphones on. Its actually very peaceful and if it's still raining, I have the soothing sound of the rain falling on the tin roof. Rain or shine, I sleep like a baby every night, tucked safely under my mosquito netting.
Just sending an email takes me several trips to town. I have walked the mile to town only to discover that the power has gone out, the internet connection is not sound, or the computers were not working properly. Even when the stars align and I get online, there is no guarantee that it will not all crash at any moment. There are numerous attempted emails and journal entries floating out there in the ether that you will never receive!!
Over all, things are good here and I am a happy little camper. Everything is completely different from my past experiences but I am falling in love with Cameroon none the less. For the most part, the people are warm and kind hearted; they endure what life brings with courage, patience, and a sense of humor.
We've had 3 sunny days in a row but I'm not sure it will continue. The weather is so changeable and often turns cold quite quickly. I will sign off for now and be back in town to check my emails in a few days - after the next round of rainy days.
July 1, 2007 : Saturday – A Big Night in Banganté
Saturday night I went to the annual year end celebration for the Lycée Classique. It’s the first social function I’ve really participated in since our arrival in country. In Yaounde, I was still feeling tentative – both physically and emotionally. So Saturday night’s festivity was really the first event I have looked forward to with anticipation. Parties typically start late here and this one was no exception. The official start time was 9:00 pm – so we arrived in a timely manner around 10:30 pm. The event took place at the Hot Palace at the other end of town. Initially my host dad planned for us to travel by moto, but when I informed him of the dreaded Pan Am award for traveling without a helmet (immediate repatriation to the USA), he made arrangements for us to travel by car with our neighbors (Thank God!! - I still haven’t told him that I now have a helmet – I am acclimating to life here in baby steps - perhaps I’ll be ready to try a moto ride next week ;-). We entered the salle to a sober group of teachers, talking quietly to their companions. Music played quietly and we took our place on three available seats. I saw Reed with his family on one side of the room and Michael with his host dad seated at the table of honor on the other side, as we all waited patiently for the sou préfet & préfet to arrive. As each of them arrived (about 30 minutes later) we all rose to acknowledge them. Speeches were and the presence of our esteemed guests was noted numerous times. Appreciation and thanks were extended to individual instructors and various committees. Promotions were noted and more speeches followed. Finally we moved to the dinner. As with work functions back home, the ladies of the school had prepared a number of potluck style dishes. I choose a few things that looked familiar, but all I could think about was Nurse Ann’s latest riveting installment about food preparation, public functions, and diarrhea. I said a silent pray over my cold food and dove in (woo-who - today is Monday & I’m still fine!). Once the food was cleared and the tables removed, the party was ready to start in earnest. The MC turned things over to the DJ, who cranked up the music and people began to hit the dance floor. I wasn’t sure what I would do, but the problem was solved as the MC came over to invite me onto the dance floor. Just in case I did not stand out enough in this crowd, I chose to wear a long white skirt that glowed under the black lights. Well, there was certainly no missing me now - thank God I have a little rhythm!! The party goers were pleasantly surprised to see la Blanche sait danser!! That was all it took – I barely sat down the rest of the evening. The music was great, the people were very warm and just like any office party back home, I had to remind a couple of dance partners where my waist was.
Things were going well and the room was heating up so I decided to take a break and find the ladies room. The entrance to the ‘toilette’ was outside in back of the club, and some things never change, there was a line for the bathroom. As I waited my turn, I noticed a short stairway that led to a small landing. I thought - what a lovely place to view the night sky – so I proceeded up the stairs. Midway up, something caught my attention on the left. Still aglow from a pleasant evening, I turned my head to see what was there. Twelve inches from my face was a small creature – oh a cat (the expectations from our previous life filtering my perceptions) – no, wait – that’s no cat. Good God – it’s a monkey!!!!! There it was, a hand’s breadth from my face – a small pale monkey with a dark face – the kind we normally see with organ grinders back home. I was completely startled and scampered back down the steep narrow steps as fast as my 3 inch Italian pumps could carry me. This encounter would have been unsettling on any occasion but today it was more acute due to the conversation we had shared at the breakfast table. Apparently, a chimpanzee had recently attacked a child in the South province and torn off half his face and portions of both feet. The child is in serious condition in a hospital. All I could think about as I flailed my arms and ran down the steps was the possibility of that cute little monkey ripping out my cheek. Now I really had to pee. Why – why – why did I think there would be a proper bathroom at a night club!!! The toilet was free, so I entered to find – nothing. Nothing, that is except a hole in the tile floor, six inches in diameter in the middle of the room. I was rattled from my encounter with the animal kingdom and I had to go urgently. Even under the best of circumstances, aiming my pee into a small hole is not a skill I have practiced (if I were Luke Skywalker – the empire would never have been destroyed). After an untidy start I finally mastered the trajectory and accomplished my mission. No toilet paper, no sink, no hand sanitizer – again, all I could think about was our beloved Nurse Ann and her important lessons - oh well…….I returned to the dance hall, my bladder relived, my nerves settled, my lipstick refreshed and my poor Italian pumps a little worst for wear. The music continued and by now several bottles of beer and juice had been spilt all over the dance floor, but these shoes were made for dancing, and a dancing we did go. Besides, Nordstrom’s has an excellent return policy. Perhaps I can return them when we get back to the states.
THE END ;-)
Things were going well and the room was heating up so I decided to take a break and find the ladies room. The entrance to the ‘toilette’ was outside in back of the club, and some things never change, there was a line for the bathroom. As I waited my turn, I noticed a short stairway that led to a small landing. I thought - what a lovely place to view the night sky – so I proceeded up the stairs. Midway up, something caught my attention on the left. Still aglow from a pleasant evening, I turned my head to see what was there. Twelve inches from my face was a small creature – oh a cat (the expectations from our previous life filtering my perceptions) – no, wait – that’s no cat. Good God – it’s a monkey!!!!! There it was, a hand’s breadth from my face – a small pale monkey with a dark face – the kind we normally see with organ grinders back home. I was completely startled and scampered back down the steep narrow steps as fast as my 3 inch Italian pumps could carry me. This encounter would have been unsettling on any occasion but today it was more acute due to the conversation we had shared at the breakfast table. Apparently, a chimpanzee had recently attacked a child in the South province and torn off half his face and portions of both feet. The child is in serious condition in a hospital. All I could think about as I flailed my arms and ran down the steps was the possibility of that cute little monkey ripping out my cheek. Now I really had to pee. Why – why – why did I think there would be a proper bathroom at a night club!!! The toilet was free, so I entered to find – nothing. Nothing, that is except a hole in the tile floor, six inches in diameter in the middle of the room. I was rattled from my encounter with the animal kingdom and I had to go urgently. Even under the best of circumstances, aiming my pee into a small hole is not a skill I have practiced (if I were Luke Skywalker – the empire would never have been destroyed). After an untidy start I finally mastered the trajectory and accomplished my mission. No toilet paper, no sink, no hand sanitizer – again, all I could think about was our beloved Nurse Ann and her important lessons - oh well…….I returned to the dance hall, my bladder relived, my nerves settled, my lipstick refreshed and my poor Italian pumps a little worst for wear. The music continued and by now several bottles of beer and juice had been spilt all over the dance floor, but these shoes were made for dancing, and a dancing we did go. Besides, Nordstrom’s has an excellent return policy. Perhaps I can return them when we get back to the states.
THE END ;-)
July 10, 2007 : Greetings from Banganté
Hey gang - this first month has been very challenging both physically and emotionally, but I am in excellent health and I have overcome some major adjustment hurdles in the last few days. It is getting easier to come to town and use the cyber cafe at least weekly now. Here's a small glimpse into me daily life: There are chickens in the front yard, goats grazing along the red clay roads and no trash cans - anywhere. I now fling trash onto a local heap that I hope will be burned in the near future or I chuck it into the nearest corn field. I do draw the line at pissing in public - which is common practice for men and women - but who knows......
June 2007 : Jet lag wins by a knock out
I was physically and emotionally wiped out for the whole first month.
I could talk more about it – but why bother – I was so happy to be in Africa and absolutely miserable all at the same time. The distress passes; the body adapts; you begin to make small strides towards regaining your strength and confidence; and you slowly and surely begin to remember why in the world you agreed to do such an outrageous thing with your life.
I could talk more about it – but why bother – I was so happy to be in Africa and absolutely miserable all at the same time. The distress passes; the body adapts; you begin to make small strides towards regaining your strength and confidence; and you slowly and surely begin to remember why in the world you agreed to do such an outrageous thing with your life.
June 10, 2007 : Welcome to Cameroon
We arrived to the airport in Yaoundé in the evening as the sun was setting. The weather was balmy and dark clouds filled the sky and menaced rain. As we were collecting our baggage from the carousel, the power went out and the entire airport filled with over 200 people was plunged into total darkness. Welcome to Africa!! We all stood still and waited to ‘see’ what happens next. The power came back on to the howls and cheers of the entire crowd. We collected our bags and the Peace Corps staff ushered us thru Customs and outside to waiting buses. We were cautioned to stay tightly together and keep a firm grip on our backpacks as well as a keen eye out for pickpockets and hustlers.
We stepped out into the heat, humidity, and bustle that await all airport passengers. We were swarmed by hustlers and taxi men wanting to take our bags to their waiting vehicles. Some of them can be quite aggressive – grabbing your bags and high-tailing it to their vehicles. The reasoning is that passengers will follow their bags and the taxi men will gain a client. The sight of 39 fresh faced Americans and their Peace Corps entourage was a tasty sight. We looked like a hapless school of delicious fish waiting to be easily scooped up by this flock of hungry waiting seagulls. The Cameroon Peace Corps staff is highly competent; well trained and efficient – they had us thru the crowd and onto the bus in short order – where we traveled to the safety of a hotel in Yaoundé. There was always plenty of bottled water and a Peace Corps volunteer or staff member close by to assist or answer any questions.
Tangui
For the first two months 1.5 liter Tangui was a ubiquitous part of a Peace Corps trainee’s daily equipment. Tangui is the brand name of the most commonly found bottled water in Cameroon. We always had our books; backpacks and 1.5 liter bottles of Tangui with us – everywhere we went.
We stepped out into the heat, humidity, and bustle that await all airport passengers. We were swarmed by hustlers and taxi men wanting to take our bags to their waiting vehicles. Some of them can be quite aggressive – grabbing your bags and high-tailing it to their vehicles. The reasoning is that passengers will follow their bags and the taxi men will gain a client. The sight of 39 fresh faced Americans and their Peace Corps entourage was a tasty sight. We looked like a hapless school of delicious fish waiting to be easily scooped up by this flock of hungry waiting seagulls. The Cameroon Peace Corps staff is highly competent; well trained and efficient – they had us thru the crowd and onto the bus in short order – where we traveled to the safety of a hotel in Yaoundé. There was always plenty of bottled water and a Peace Corps volunteer or staff member close by to assist or answer any questions.
Tangui
For the first two months 1.5 liter Tangui was a ubiquitous part of a Peace Corps trainee’s daily equipment. Tangui is the brand name of the most commonly found bottled water in Cameroon. We always had our books; backpacks and 1.5 liter bottles of Tangui with us – everywhere we went.
June 10, 2007 : Douala to Yaoundé – the final leg of our trans-continental journey.
Although the worst was over – my digestive adventures were not. We landed at Douala Intl Airport, to offload some passengers and take on others. As we were continuing to Yaoundé, we did not need to disembark from the airplane. This took less than an hour (amazingly) and we continued on. As soon as we headed down the runway, I started to feel queasy again. The plane took off and I grabbed another airline bag. All I had left to offer up was the water I had sipped for the last few hours. Thank God those airlines bags DO NOT leak!!! I obediently held my hot little package until the fasten seat belt sign was turned off and moved – carefully – to the bathroom.
I managed to finish the flight without further incident, but I kept an airline bag handy and I was nauseous and queasy the whole time. Man, I felt like crap.
Next time – airport stories –
XOXO Christine
I managed to finish the flight without further incident, but I kept an airline bag handy and I was nauseous and queasy the whole time. Man, I felt like crap.
Next time – airport stories –
XOXO Christine
June 9, 2007 : Paris - we have a problem
Saturday morning we arrived in Paris to a cool overcast day. So far so good, I’m still feeling GREAT – I even chatted with a lady and her toddler – en français!! We only had about an hour’s lay over, so the herd and I shuffled to our departure gate to await boarding for the next leg of our journey – Paris to Douala, Cameroon. Now this was momentous – we were about to depart the world we knew with all its shiny conveniences for AFRICA!!! A few people had been to other countries in Africa, but none of us had ever been to Cameroon, and certainly not in a capacity such as Peace Corps.
We boarded the Air France plane for another eight hour flight. The meal was not nearly as good as the last one we ate, but I ate most of it, none the less - including the cheese and coffee. Apparently, my euphoria had eclipsed my lactose intolerance and sensitive stomach (this will also be important to remember later) !! All is well and I drift off to sleep and perhaps to dream – of my new life in Africa.
Four hours into our eight hour flight, I shift my weight and turn my head to find a more comfortable position. Suddenly, all is NOT well. My stomach is churning and cramping, my bowels are in a twist and I cannot move because I can feel myself losing consciousness. The blackness is closing in and I cannot move my limbs or speak out. It feels like I am trapped in this roiling mess for some unimaginable length of time, but it was probably just a few minutes. I believe I did pass out – but I have no way of telling just how long all this lasted – probably not more than five or six minutes. Finally, I started to come around and began recovering control of my body and my senses. Fear gripped my vulnerable mind and at this point, my first conscious thought was ‘Ohmygod, I’m going to Africa and I’m going to die there.’ Not too dramatic – right ?!?! This is the only point at which I felt genuine fear about my decision to join Peace Corps. I immediately came to my full senses, rejected such a foolish notion and began to pray. I was still sick, rattled, frightened and not fully about to move. So I continued to pray as my body regained its motor functions. After a few minutes I felt steady enough to get up and head towards the bathroom.
Just skip the next paragraph if you don’t want TMI – too much information ;-)
I made it into the tiny, cramped airplane bathroom just in time to enthusiastically empty the contents of my bowels. I think that took care of my PHL-PAR meal, but PAR-DOU was still pending. The latest round of gastronomic abuse was still roiling in my stomach, but I could not seem to bring myself to throw up. I sat there for about ten minutes hoping the storm in my stomach would force its way back up the same way it had entered – but no luck. Finally I pushed the little red panic button for a stewardess. I explained my problem – in French – and she brought me some cola to drink. Apparently, coke is the catalyst of choice to expedite stomach evacuation. Well, it took another ten minutes to activate a reaction, but boy, is it effective. I now enthusiastically returned the contents of my stomach into a sturdy little motion sickness bag. You know – those bags are much stronger than they look. They can hold over a quart of hot, steaming, partially digested airline food and drink !!
The worst was now over. I felt weak and wobbly, but my mind was clear – as was my entire alimentary canal. I returned to my seat and sipped water for the remainder of the flight.
We boarded the Air France plane for another eight hour flight. The meal was not nearly as good as the last one we ate, but I ate most of it, none the less - including the cheese and coffee. Apparently, my euphoria had eclipsed my lactose intolerance and sensitive stomach (this will also be important to remember later) !! All is well and I drift off to sleep and perhaps to dream – of my new life in Africa.
Four hours into our eight hour flight, I shift my weight and turn my head to find a more comfortable position. Suddenly, all is NOT well. My stomach is churning and cramping, my bowels are in a twist and I cannot move because I can feel myself losing consciousness. The blackness is closing in and I cannot move my limbs or speak out. It feels like I am trapped in this roiling mess for some unimaginable length of time, but it was probably just a few minutes. I believe I did pass out – but I have no way of telling just how long all this lasted – probably not more than five or six minutes. Finally, I started to come around and began recovering control of my body and my senses. Fear gripped my vulnerable mind and at this point, my first conscious thought was ‘Ohmygod, I’m going to Africa and I’m going to die there.’ Not too dramatic – right ?!?! This is the only point at which I felt genuine fear about my decision to join Peace Corps. I immediately came to my full senses, rejected such a foolish notion and began to pray. I was still sick, rattled, frightened and not fully about to move. So I continued to pray as my body regained its motor functions. After a few minutes I felt steady enough to get up and head towards the bathroom.
Just skip the next paragraph if you don’t want TMI – too much information ;-)
I made it into the tiny, cramped airplane bathroom just in time to enthusiastically empty the contents of my bowels. I think that took care of my PHL-PAR meal, but PAR-DOU was still pending. The latest round of gastronomic abuse was still roiling in my stomach, but I could not seem to bring myself to throw up. I sat there for about ten minutes hoping the storm in my stomach would force its way back up the same way it had entered – but no luck. Finally I pushed the little red panic button for a stewardess. I explained my problem – in French – and she brought me some cola to drink. Apparently, coke is the catalyst of choice to expedite stomach evacuation. Well, it took another ten minutes to activate a reaction, but boy, is it effective. I now enthusiastically returned the contents of my stomach into a sturdy little motion sickness bag. You know – those bags are much stronger than they look. They can hold over a quart of hot, steaming, partially digested airline food and drink !!
The worst was now over. I felt weak and wobbly, but my mind was clear – as was my entire alimentary canal. I returned to my seat and sipped water for the remainder of the flight.
June 8, 2007 : Fasten your seat belts !!
Friday morning we arose early to receive our first round of shots. All went well – not too painful – and only a few people felt nauseous of dizzy. So far I felt great – pumped, confident, and ready to go !! The east coast has these great sandwich shops called Cosi’s. They make the best sandwiches and salads, so I headed there for my last USA meal for the next two years. We headed to the airport – all 39 of us, each with our two suitcases and a carry-on. We filled two large buses. The flight from Philadelphia to Paris took eight hours. They served us a delicious Air France meal, complete with a mini baguette and French cheese. I ate everything on the plate! (This will be important to remember later) I had napped before the food arrived so I watched a movie during the second half of the flight. The movie was ‘The Painted Veil’, it’s about a doctor who is pissed at his wife for cheating on him, so he takes her to cholera infested China at the turn of the century. As you can imagine - lots of people die a horrible death; groaning, vomiting and expiring exhausted - things did not end well.
June 5, 2007 : The start of a most excellent adventure
On Tuesday day June 5th, I began the first leg of my most excellent adventure. The flight from Los Angeles to Philadelphia was pleasant and uneventful. I arrived at University City Sheraton with little delay. I met my new roommate and we chatted easily about what had drawn us to Peace Corps and service in Africa. The next two days were not as carefree. Peace Corps sets a demanding pace from day one and the sessions were intense and tiring. We did lots of team building activities to establish camaraderie and boost confidence. The days were exhausting but I felt (as did most of us) elated and confident.
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