Finally Being a PCV: First Lesson in the Truth of the Phrase “Du Courage” – Dealing with Hives and Confronting an Assailant

This week was a whirlwind of amazing highs, and disheartening lows – sometimes both in the same day. “Du courage” means something like ‘stay strong.’ On Sunday, the entirety of the Bokito crew was surprised to learn that we had to be packed with all our things a day early. Unsurprisingly, over the past month, we’ve all accumulated lots more stuff – from the piles of training manuals, language books and papers, to our water filter, moto helmet, mosquito nets, and so much more. Several sweaty hours later, everything was squeezing and shoved into every nook and cranny of my footlocker, duffle bag and backpack. And what better way to celebrate taking one more step in our journey to post/being a PCV than by watching Cameroon beat Tunisia 4-1 in the World Cup qualifying game over beers at one of the local bars with the other health stagiares and plenty of enthusiastic Cameroonians!

Monday was the first in the string of rollercoaster days, as it was both very exciting to learn more details about our future lives at post and get more materials (read: lots more heavy manuals about different health topics). Our CD (Country Director), Jackie, led sessions going over the volunteer manual on different topics from safety and security, to health, to travel policies (READ: IF PEOPLE COME TO VISIT ME, IT DOESN’T COUNT AS ONE OF MY 48 DAYS OF VACATION OVER TWO YEARS – aka, if any of you fancied visiting Africa/Cameroon/me, this is the ideal opportunity to have a guided tour). Jackie also told me that Allely and I would be staying with her on Tuesday night – they started a new tradition this year where the night before swearing in, the trainees stay with PC staff, Embassy staff, or ex-pats. Later that day, the emotions rollercoaster dipped during the session with Sylvie (the program manager of the health program). Contrary to what my counterpart had said, Sylvie said that my house was not yet completed, and that they were not sure when it would be done/hadn’t checked it off to make sure that it was up to Peace Corps standards – greeeeaattt. Additionally, she said that since it’s a new location for a PCV to be in Kembong (the previous volunteer that was in the village left in 2011 and had a different house, complete with rats, cockroaches, ants, and occasional bats and scorpions), PC had to pay the money that they would normally give the landlord to pay the first few months of rent for the PCV (some PCVs have their rent paid through March of next year), they couldn’t pay any of my rent in advance – meaning that although we’re given a monthly rent stipend, I will have to pay right away, in addition to the enormity of the cash flow that will be going out as I completely furnish my house (bed, foam mattress, gas can, gas stove, every cooking utensil, getting the locks on my house replaced, etc). Furthermore, Sylvie told me that they haven’t ever had a health volunteer like me – meaning that all the previous health volunteers (there weren’t many in the recent past) that were in Kembong were part of a now-defunct facet of the health program, where health PCVs were assigned to do NGO development work, and were assigned to a specific NGO – in my case, ETAYA. This means that the previous health PCVs were doing work exclusively with the NGO, and not really (or at all) with the health center – meaning, that they were doing grant writing activities and other programming activities on a grand scale, that enabled them to do big projects in the community (the previous health volunteer built a school from scratch) and bring lots of money into the community. Although I’m not part of this program, I’m thinking that it might be worthwhile to have a chat both with my counterpart and the NGO director (preferably both at the same time) to articulate how/why I’m a different type of volunteer that will be working primarily with the health center, and secondarily, with the NGO. Sylvie told me straight out that she was very worried that the community/stakeholders would equate me with the last volunteer, and set their expectations according to the duties/role of the previous PCV – not the most encouraging news. The evening was back up the rollercoaster, as I had my last night spent laughing, joking, and making food with my family.

Tuesday was no exception to the rollercoaster, as I had to physically wake up my family (for some reason, nothing, and I mean NOTHING, functions when it rains – students don’t go to school, businesses aren’t open, life comes to a standstill) to say goodbye (and almost more importantly, let me out of the house, since they had hidden the key to open the door…) Although leaving my family was bittersweet, I was definitely ready. From Bafia we traveled to Yaounde to cash our living allowance checks and wire the money via Express Union to ourselves. 6 hours later and several euchre games later as we waiting for the hyper-inefficient bank to process our transactions (PC had called ahead several times to warn them that 54 of us were coming in to cash checks…), we made our way back to the Case (weirdly pronounced ‘cause,’ but it’s the area where PCVs stay in Yaounde – they have Cases in most of the regions of Cameroon, except in the SW and Littoral). From there, Allely and I found Jackie and headed to her compound mansion (okay, not a ‘mansion’ per say, but definitely lots bigger than my 6-room, one-story, cement-floored house). We then spent an amazing evening spent eating microwave popcorn, Captain Crunch Berries, and Senegalese poulet yassa (chicken with an onion sauce over rice) and salad (lettuce with carrots, avocados, and peppers), and petting newly born puppies and having limited internet access, we ended the evening with hot showers/baths and ice cream sundaes – note: this is NOT real life. It was incredibly surreal for me – SO different than what I was used to, but no different than the things I have access to in the States, but despite being elated about being treated thus, it was rather unsettling at the same time. To add to the warring feelings of bliss and being unsettled, I started to notice hives starting on my tummy/legs, but didn’t think anything of it.

The next day was swearing in! Jackie’s husband drove us to the Embassy, where after checking in, we had French toast with real syrup and bacon (among other American foods, like Cheetos – aaaahhh!). From there we went to the new PC office to have our ceremony. The basic program was as follows: introductions to all the dignitaries, national anthems of the US and Cameroon, speeches by fellow stagiares in French, Fulfulde, and Pidgin, speeches by all of the ministers (Minister of Mothers and the Family, Minister of Public Health, Minister of Agriculture, Minister of Youth) and by the stand-in Ambassador, Greg, an RPCV himself, and from Jackie; awards to certain formateurs, a performance by some of the formateurs, our stage performing “Peace Train” and then the actual swearing-in itself! I am now an official Peace Corps Volunteer, and was moved by both Jackie and Greg’s speeches about our roles as PCVs, especially in Cameroon. Before/during/after the ceremony, my hives had gotten considerably worse, so I spoke with a PCMO (PC medical officer) and got some Benadryl and hydrocortisone cream. After the ceremony, we had a luncheon with one member of our host family (Mama Pauline came).

From there, we said our goodbyes to our host families and headed back on the bus to Bafia for our swearing in celebration at the same hotel as that we used for Halloween. It was dark upon arrival, and after unloading the bus, we settled into our rooms (I made sure I didn’t have the one in the bat with it this time). After dancing and hanging out (and slipping down the concrete steps, resulting in a bruise the size of an Hawaiian island on my upper thigh/butt), I decided to call it a night around 11:30, and after having two of the hotel “workers” (I put it in quotes because these guys were no more than mid-teenagers) come to my room requesting the water bucket that I had used to haul well water up the stairs to flush the toilet, I decided to have one of my other roommates lock me in the room to ensure that I was ‘safe.’ While she was doing this, she saw another Cameroonian teenager eerily following her up the stairs, and when she pointedly looked at him/told him off, he left. I left the lights on and my glasses at the ready, and as a precaution, leaned my heavy backpack against the door to discourage anyone from coming in, and popped two Benadryl for my worsening hives – now all over my body. Not 30 minutes later, I heard several knocks at the door. Thinking that if it were my other two roommates, they would have announced themselves, I wisely remained silent during the second and third knocks. After waiting, I heard someone fumbling quietly with the keyhole, and then, to my utter surprise and complete dismay, the door popped open. The assailant pushed at the door, and meeting with the resistance of my bag, stopped, and after waiting a bit, tried again several times. On the third try, my bag tipped over, and I crept silently out of bed, waiting a second, and then pushed my bag aside and flung open the door in the space of a second. I immediately began shouting at the assailant, and to his credit (and my sheer relief), he looked scared and then ran downstairs. There was no way I was going to pursue him, so I promptly started calling for help, hoping that other PCVs would hear me and come. Allely came out of her room (thank god she speaks better French than I do), and we formed a plan of action, starting with interrogating the teenage boys working the hotel. I also figured out that the assailant, a teenage boy himself, had stolen the alternate room key (the room where they were kept wasn’t locked…). In the meantime, other PCVs started to help, and I called the PC person in charge of training, and after only getting his voicemail, I called the head of language training – who did not offer any encouragement/support. However, after I got off the phone, the training manager called me back and said that he was on his way. It was then that I broke down, crying for the first time since arriving (and damn, I had meant to save my first cry for sometime during the first 3 months). Genevieve (one of my friends/roommates) and I switched hotels on PC’s dime, and slept as restfully as humanly possible given the stress of the night’s events. In the morning, we all gathered in Bafia to travel on our respective buses and after having another explosion of hives, the PCMO nurses decided it would be best for my mental and physical health (particularly given the break in) if I went to Yaounde for a few days. After saying a very bittersweet goodbye to the majority of my fellow PCVs and briefly helping the staff debrief the incident (they offered to have anyone who wasn’t comfortable going to post because of the security incident go to Yaounde), Julia and I took off for Yaounde with the other PCVs who were taking the train up to the Grand North, those going to the East and some to the Southwest.

After a stop at PCMO to take another crack at determining why the hives had spread to every part of my body (betcha think I’m attractive now, huh, Caleb? haaah…), a few of us went out for lunch (roast chicken and fries with cokes) and smoothies (fresh pineapple and mangoes with filtered water) and headed back to the Case to say more goodbyes. I’ll be staying at the Case until Monday at the earliest, and then Julia and I will head to Bamenda, and then onto post (Pauline, my counterpart, is already readying the chiefs/dignitaries of Kembong for my welcoming party). Despite the whirlwind/rollercoaster of emotions of the past few days (preparing to go to post, actually not going to post, being put on medical hold until at least Monday, having a great (although not real) time with other PCVs at the Case (it’s not the same as spending time with my stage-mates), I’m yet again SO grateful for the people in my life, my fellow PCVs, friends, and family. Without any and all of them, and the support I’ve received, there’s no doubt that I would have a much rougher time of it here – my deepest appreciation, always.

Becoming Auntie Valerie: The Last Week of PST

I know I say this practically every post, but I truly cannot believe how fast (although incredibly slow at times) this past week/PST has gone. This feeling was further heightened when we took a trip to Yaoundé on Saturday for a safety and security tour – aka all of the stagiares dividing into groups of 4-5 based on region, and going around the capital with a PCV guide showing us relevant sites so that we would feel more comfortable in our future trips there. It was interesting being in the same environment in which we had spent our first few days in Cameroon, and being back remembering the feelings/emotions/thoughts I had upon first arriving, and how those have changed so dramatically over the past 10 weeks. The trip to Yaounde was awesome, and the highlights included: Indian food; Western supermarkets with yogurt and apples and cheese, the artisan market, going to the top of the Hilton Hotel to see the view, and just generally getting to explore with other stagiares and volunteer - super fun. 

This week was one of the best weeks yet, due in no small part to the fact that all of the activities that we were doing in class were directly relevant to our future lives at post. On Tuesday, we went to the nearby maternal (primary) school to give 20-30-minute group presentations on a health topic to the students. After conducting protocol (seeing the principle and having him give an introduction to the class about our presentations), we set out to give a presentation to the 70+ students sitting on wooden benches and long plank desks in our single classroom, where the teacher sat by nursing her baby (who she then passed off to the students to take care of), and with the principal looking on (with a whip in hand, made out of the rubber of a tire). We did an exercise on the fecal-oral route, including an interactive game with the students. Definitely a good experience, but I am very glad I’m not an education volunteer. The next day, we had our final session with our health club community group at the secondary school. Allely, Ludi, and I put together handouts for the girls on the different methods of family planning, and one on prevention/transmission facts and myths about HIV/AIDS. We also answered their questions and helped them brainstorm ideas for the upcoming World AIDS Day and other activities that they could do to inform the student population about relevant health issues. 

            We also had our final tech sessions, including our post-test for health (we had to take a pre-test at the beginning of PST to determine our baseline knowledge on health issues in Cameroon, although we never did get the results back) and our medical post-test when we got our final vaccination (the flu shot). Vaccination-wise, I can now travel anywhere in the world. Apart from tech sessions, we’ve all been enjoying hanging out with everyone for our final week. I taught pretty much all of the other health stagiares to play the card game ‘euchre’ and they’ve been hooked ever since – during breaks there are usually one or two games going on. We also had a health PCT trivia night at the bar and played two rounds (roughly 15 questions per round including bonus questions). We divided up by region to play (Anglophone regions were together), and my team took second in the first game and won the second game in double overtime questions – super fun. Despite not liking aspects of having tons of activities planned all day, every day, I’m really, really going to miss having the structured routine with all of the other stagiares – not to mention how much I’m going to miss my fellow stagiares. Apart from spending time with the other PCTs, I’ve also been spending time with my family – we made three cakes from scratch together – even though I’m not a huge fan of cake, doing all the prep work and the actual baking of the cakes over the fire made them taste delicious. 

            On Thursday and Friday we had our community host/counterpart workshops. My counterpart’s name is Pauline, and she’s a 40 year-old midwife that works at the health center (she also acts as the pharmacist tech at the health center). If Pauline could be compared with an inanimate object, she would easily be a bulldozer. She’s very petite (she doesn’t even reach my shoulders), but damn if she’s not a pistol that packs a serious verbal punch. Although we have a little bit of a communication barrier, it’s not nearly as much as those with Francophone counterparts – having an Anglophone counterpart will be significantly easier for me, especially when it comes to starting projects and interacting with my community members. She is only one of 4 female counterparts (out of 18), and she’s incredibly motivated/dedicated to her job and the community. During the sessions, she was an active participant, telling others to participate, and even insisting that others take photos of her when she helped facilitate one of the sessions. She hates to be idle, and when she doesn’t have enough patients at the health center, she goes and tends her farm – by herself, mind you, as her 21 year-old daughter is away at school. She was born and raised in Kembong, and her parents hosted PCVs in their compound from 1992-1998. She still remembers their first and last names, what they did in the community, and is still hurt by the fact that the last volunteer left rather unexpectedly in 1998 without telling the community why. She said that my house is right next to the gendarmarie and brigade (police station), that water and electricity are very reliable in the community (both of which my house has), and that “there is no bad juju in the community” (what this actually means remains to be seen, but for the time being, I merely smiled and nodded in response to this statement). She mentioned that I’ll be working with the health center and the local NGO, ETAYA (literally meaning “working for the poor and needy” in the local dialect), which has been in existence for more than 10 years, and is run by a pharmacist by the name of Felix Tanyi. Right away, she had me call him, and during our 5-minute conversation, he said that he was very excited for me to arrive in Kembong and work with the NGO, and that now I am a member of his family, and this his home in Buea is now my home, too, and that I am to treat it as such – very comforting words for someone who I’ve never spoken to before in my life, let alone met.

Here are some other nuggets of information that she imparted:

-          The second that I arrive in Kembong, there will be a HUGE welcoming committee/party for my arrival, complete with the traditional chief of the village, the vice-chief, the head of the health center, NGO representatives, and community members, including a dance troupe or two that will be performing traditional dances for me (very nice, but definitely overwhelming…)

-          I will have the opportunity to explore all of the projects that the community is doing related to health in the first three months of my service, but I have a feeling that it will mostly focus on HIV/AIDS and malaria, at least from what she’s said (particularly PMTCT – prevention of mother to child transmission of HIV/AIDS). I’ll also have the opportunity to work with already-established women’s and men’s groups in the community, in addition to schools. I’ll also be assisting with the community outreach health campaigns at the health center. The health center has five staff members, including her.

-          Additionally, I don’t think the work that I had envisioned to form a partnership with TBAs (traditional birth attendants) and traditional healers will be possible, as Pauline mentioned that the government has not permitted TBAs to practice, and there are not many traditional healers in the area (this doesn’t necessarily mean that both groups aren’t practicing in the area in and around Kembong, it could mean that she just isn’t affiliated with them, doesn’t know of their practice in the community)

-          Unlike in the Grand North where malnutrition is a bigger issue, in the Grand South, obesity and hypertension are more prevalent, including in Kembong

-          Kembong specifically had to apply and prove that they were capable of hosting a PCV

-          I will be consulting with the chief of the health center – meaning that I will be sitting with him as he hears the concerns of the patients upon their arrival to the health center (the initial healthcare consultation to determine the treatment course of the patients), so this should be interesting (confidentiality/privacy laws don’t really exist here)

-          I’ll probably acquire a tutor to develop a baseline/cursory understanding of the local dialect (PC Cameroon pays for PCVs to have a tutor in the local language during the first year of service)

-          I’ll be working in the surrounding villages around Kembong, not only in the town proper

She also envisions me to do a huge project for which the community will remember me by forever, in addition to doing grant-writing activities for the community. Although I certainly don’t mind doing grant-writing activities, I’m not entirely sure what her expectations are for this grand project that she wants me to complete. Although she’s worked with volunteers before, I think that once I get to my community, we should have a talk about our mutual expectations for one another, along with the fact that apart from getting settled into the community and conducting the initial community needs assessment to figure out health issues, resources, etc, I will not be doing any real project work in the first three months (a PC rule), and just general expectations for projects to ensure that we’re on the same page. The first three months will also be a good introduction to understand her role in the community and how others perceive and work with her, so that I can gather tips/knowledge on how to effectively work with her. At the end of the session, we mutually put together a list of activities for the first three months, and it looks definitely doable and includes things that will give me an introduction to the community/health issues. Not to say that I’m not overwhelmed, in fact, I’m incredibly overwhelmed, not just for my work on future projects, but also for the move to my community, being by myself, and community integration – a tall order that will soon be my reality in less than 5 days. However, despite being overwhelmed, I’m also very excited. It’s also very comforting to know that Pauline (and Felix, too), despite being intense, really do care about my happiness and success in the community.

            The next few days are as follows: move all my things to the PC training center in Bafia; leave for Yaoundé on Monday for a talk with the country director; leave my host family’s house on Tuesday and go to the capital again to stay with an ex-pat or Embassy family; swear in on Wednesday as an official Peace Corps Volunteer; return to Bafia for party with fellow stagiares; leave for Bafia on Thursday morning to go to Bamenda; meet other cluster mates in Bamenda and stay the night; leave for Mamfe the next day and stay with cluster mates at their houses that night and set up bank account and start buying things for my house; maybe stay for another day in Mamfe before Pauline comes to Mamfe to help me buy things and move to Kembong. All in all, a busy and hectic (although very enjoyable and celebratory) next few days – I’m simultaneously nervous/overwhelmed, and very excited/ready! I’m not sure when I’ll have a chance to post next, although I’m planning on buying an internet stick as soon as possible, so in the meantime, keep me in your thoughts/prayers as I make another huge transition! Also, Cameroon is going to the World Cup - wooohooo!! 

Checking this Little Lady's Conjunctiva for Anemia at the Nutritional Screen

A be woman for Cameroon: Beaucoup du kids and The Beginning of the End of PST

The title of this blog post is in Pidgin, and is representative of my realization this week that I am really, really starting to care a lot about Cameroon – the people, the health issues, the way I as a PCV can fit into my community, etc. This realization has been a gradual process, and not at all unexpected, but really struck me when I, with the rest of the stagiares, went to the local maternal school (like primary school in the U.S.) to conduct a nutritional screening with the children there. We divided into groups of two or three and each took a station in the following sequence: asking the children their names, ages (if they knew them), how many family members they have, if they had eaten breakfast, if they were planning on eating lunch or dinner, and if they had diarrhea; taking their weight and converting it to kilograms; taking their height; taking their upper arm circumference; checking for edema (swelling) in their feet, and if necessary, hands/wrists; checking for conjunctivitis in their lower eyelids (if it’s pale pink or white, it’s a sign of anemia); and repeating the earlier questions to hopefully get some degree of accuracy. When I was sitting there on the rough-hewn school benches waiting for the next child to come through, I was struck with an overwhelming sense of rightness and comfort – the feeling of contentment to just be, and the fact that less than 10 weeks ago, I would have been analyzing and comparing the situation to what I’d previously experienced, but now I was content to just be – be in the moment, be with the children and my fellow volunteers, be comfortable in a situation that previously would’ve been far outside my comfort zone. It was a great feeling and realization, especially given the fact that one of my best friends here, Kimmi, decided to ET (early terminate) on Monday and by Wednesday, was on a flight back to the U.S. Although her and I talked extensively on our weekly Monday evening “Yaoundé roommate reconnect” chats over a beer, waking up early on Tuesday to see her off still shook me up and put me close to crying for the first time here. Thus, my realization and feelings of rightness on Wednesday were even more so special to me.

            Later that day, Layne, Spencer, Liz and I went to the English Club at the secondary school to chat with some of the same students that I had seen before when doing my presentation over a month ago. Layne and I took the younger grades, and after our introductions and feeling out the group dynamics, content with our Franglais (English-French combination), we answered question after question from the students. Some of the memorable ones were: why do Americans use so much lotion on their bodies (not sure if this was translated correctly, since from what I’ve seen, African women use just as much lotion); why do Americans like fruit so much when they come here (some fruits taste way better here than in the U.S. – case in point, my love for pamplemousse rouge (ruby red grapefruit) when I hated it in the States); can American women do karate/play any sport that a man can; why do American women have such long hair; why are we in Cameroon – what are we getting out of the deal; how do we like Cameroon so far; and can we tell them our national anthem. To the last question, Layne and I decided to sing it in front of the whole 30+ group of students. At the end of our out-of-tune and rushed rendition, we were greeted with thunderous applause from the students. We then asked them to sing their own national anthem. The whole experience turned out to be a neat cross-cultural exchange opportunity for both the students and us.   

            On Thursday, we each had to give a 20+ minute presentation in French on a relevant cultural topic for a panel of our language instructors and a group of other stagiares. My presentation on family planning methods and subsequent Jeopardy game was a huge hit (due in no small part to the fact that I had practiced for my host family the night before, which was great for correction of my pronunciation). I got a 97.5% on the presentation, and am officially done with my French requirements for the rest of PST - ideally meaning I only have Pidgin language class for the next week. I was also really proud of constructing a 20-minute presentation in French (with question and answer period, also in French) with no internet access, and barely any other resources – a great feeling of accomplishment. I also think the lack of internet access in Bokito has really made the bonds between us health volunteers stronger - we all get along well, go out to the bar for drinks or do other things to all hang out pretty much every other night, even after spending all day together, and are a generally tight-knit group of people. This type of dynamic doesn’t exist on a large scale/to the same degree among Bafia volunteers, and I’m grateful to have it with my fellow health trainees.

            Some other highlights of the week include: a tofu making demonstration; interacting with my host family (most host mother said she would cry when I left, because I’m so funny and interesting – a real compliment, given that it’s been hard to discern her emotions in the past); completing my final TDA assignment (interviewing my family about nutritional practices within the community); the realization that I’m no longer terrified of going home and struggling to communicate in French; watching French movies in French class (from Amelié to a Cameroonian video on actual cases of rape and incest – quite the spectrum); and hearing that we’ll be staying in a posh home stay setting the night before swearing in (we’re all staying with American ex-pats, current Embassy workers, or Cameroonians who work at Peace Corps); doing yoga several times in the training center with others, and hanging out with Bafia and Bokito PCTs in Bokito on Saturday.  

On Sunday, we had a Diversity Day with the rest of the trainees and language/cross-cultural formateurs (teachers) in Bafia – super fun! I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but both the PCTs and the formateurs really pulled it out – there was tons of food from all the different regions, homemade peanut butter and papaya jelly, mac and cheese, homemade onion rings, and lots of entertainment – from solo step dancing, to agfo line dancing, and several formateur-led events. We also did our first performance of our main entertainment for our swearing in ceremony: singing and dancing to Cat Stevens’ “Peace Train.” I also led the health stagiares in a flash mob performance of the Macarena – sweet success! After, we all had a dance party before heading back to Bokito. In short, a fabulous rest of the week, although it absolutely flew by!

Exorcisms, Corruption, and Sorcery – Oh My!

          It’s incredibly hard to believe that I’m in the midst of my eighth week here, although it seems like the time has simultaneously dragged on and flown by. The days go by very slowly (you really realize how many hours there are in the day), but the weeks go by quickly. This week, we had 21 hours of language spread out over 4.5 days – lots and lots of French and Pidgin (Fulfulde for the people going to the North, Adamawa, and some going to the East). My mentor, Sam, a second year health volunteer (who’s actually about to COS – end her service) came to Bokito to help train us, instructing us on family planning and other relevant health topics, in addition to imparting nuggets of information about life as a PCV in Cameroon. We learned that women who have a child in their teenage years are considered ideal marriage partners, as the man and his family already know that the woman is fertile/capable of having healthy children. Thus, women often want to have children/won’t want their sexual partner to use protection for this exact reason. Although I’ve loved all of our PCV trainers so far, none of them have been from the Grand South (all have been either from the North or Adamawa regions), which although is nice for those going to those regions, doesn’t necessarily offer the best cultural insight into life as a health volunteer in the Grand South. Although Sam didn’t have too many cultural insights into the Grand South, she did mention that when she visited another volunteer in the West region, she went to the most famous sorcerer in the region, a crab sorcerer. The crab sorcerer uses a live crab and various other things to foretell the future, determine someone’s ailment, and offer other sage insights. His technique is to put the crab in a giant marmit (huge cooking pot – think the size that you would wash a small child in) with other sticks, roots, leaves, and anything else he deems important, and based on what the crab does (behavior, directionality, etc), the sorcerer makes his predictions – fascinating, really.

 Speaking of the Grand South, I got in touch with several of the other PCVs in my cluster – all volunteers are part of some cluster or another in their region, to support cohesion, and have a support network. My cluster is located in Mamfe, and consists of education, CED (community economic development), LIFE (can’t remember what this acronym stands for, but it’s something to do with fusing agfo and CED), and now health volunteers with Julia and I joining. All of the others just swore in in August, so we’re part of a relatively new cluster. My cluster mates usually get together at least once a week to get together and make dinner/ hang out, and it’s reassuring that I’m going into a tight-knit group that has already bonded – but this also makes it a bit intimidating, too, as I’ve noticed that although I get along with the other PCVs, nothing compares to the bonds/experiences/inside jokes shared among people of the same staj. Mamfe is about 1.5-hour trip away from Kembong in the rainy season, meaning that it’ll probably be faster during the dry season (the season that is almost upon us). Also, chances are that although I’ll be speaking Pidgin, I’ll also be learning one of the local tribal languages – if not for day to day life/work purposes, to greet the chiefs in the village (the NW and SW have huge chiefdom cultures). I’ll also have to learn more of the customs when I arrive (for example, a woman crossing her legs in front of a man in the SW or NW is the equivalent of a sexual invitation…as if the derang-y (gross/bothersome) men on market day needed any more encouragement…ha). One of the other PCVs in my cluster recently visited Kembong, and these are some soundbytes that she said about it (pretty much verbatim):
 - Kembong’s technically a town as opposed to a village. It’s pretty large and really nice and cute. It has an Express Union, which is pretty advanced.
 - My house is directly behind the Express Union (meaning that I think my house is pretty centrally located in town, since that’s where Express Union’s tend to be). There’s a little restaurant next door with good food (and she didn’t get sick after eating the food – another plus!)
 - House has one bedroom, kitchen, bathroom with a shower but no sink, and a living room/salon area. It also has a little porch. In her words, it’s really cute and the perfect size for a PCV, and in a great location, too.
 - Unfortunately, the house is completely empty (no previous PCV to sell/give me any of the furnishings), so I’ll have to completely buy everything and decorate from scratch – not that daunting of a thought. - The health center looks very modern and like they have their stuff together.
 - One of my counterparts is amazing (she’s a nurse midwife), very welcoming and the PCV thinks that the staff will treat me well. - The chiefs are also very enthusiastic to work with me as well.
 - The post itself is a bit remote (there are only three main roads to get into the village, and only one of them works in the rainy season). However, there is a weekly market, and if I need anything, the 1.5-hour trip to Mamfe (my banking city) doesn’t sound too bad.
 - Some of the cluster mates will meet Julia and I in Bamenda (the capital of the NW region, which is only a 3-4 hour trip from Mamfe) to help us move our stuff, open bank accounts, and buy things for our posts before our community hosts (different person than our counterpart, but a person in the village who was hand-selected to help facilitate our integration and getting our projects off the ground) come to pick us up and take us to post. So although moving to our posts by ourselves is still a daunting undertaking, it’s much less so knowing that we’ll have lots of help.

 After spending an awful day dealing with food poisoning on Tuesday, Wednesday was like a sweet gift, as I got a package from home, got to Skype with Caleb, we all got our swearing in pagne (fabric), from which we’ll each have individual outfits made (out of the same fabric) for our swearing in ceremony, and getting red grapefruit, my absolute favorite fruit here (which is weird, considering that I don’t even like grapefruit in the States) – all in all, an awesome day. The rest of the week passed uneventfully, but enjoyably, as we learned about HIV/AIDS, did a TDA exercise with our families regarding HIV/AIDS – I learned a lot of interesting things about what my family thinks of the disease, prevention/transmission, and people living with HIV/AIDS within the community. We also had a talk about ethics in our future dealings at post. Cameroon is widely acknowledged as one of the most corrupt countries in the world – in fact, Cameroon is the only country in the world to have held the “honor” of being named ‘most corrupt country in the world’ two years in a row. President Paul Biya’s alleged response to this title was the if he had known this would be the case, he would have bribed the necessary parties at Transparency International (the organization that names the titles), so that Cameroon wouldn’t be on the list – insert face palm here. We also had to give a 10-minute presentation on a health topic (in French) in front of the other health stagiares and language trainers in preparation for our IEP (again, no idea what this acronym means), but it’s a presentation in French (has to be at least 15-20 minutes long and follow the guidelines of an informative/good presentation) and has to be on a cross-cultural topic, intended to educate the audience on an issue. My topic is family planning in Cameroon – something I’m not super interested in, but for which I have to vocabulary necessary to complete a presentation and not sound like a complete bumbling idiot. The preliminary presentation went very well, and I’m not worried about the IEP on Thursday. 

On Saturday, after our second cross-cultural open doors (various scenarios set up for us, and we had to navigate the scenarios in French; dealing with a landlord, e.g.) to celebrate Halloween, we had a huge party with all the stagiares in Bafia. After an afternoon in search of spaghetti omelets (yep, exactly what it sounds like: cooked spaghetti mixed in with two eggs, onions, peppers, and tomatoes in an omelet) and street meat (brochettes of grilled beef or goat meat that go for 100 CFA a piece – roughly 25 cents), we headed back to the training center to use internet before heading to Joe’s house for a celebratory meal of pizza (not quite American style, but I’ll definitely take it), hamburgers, fried potatoes, and fruit salad. From there, we headed to the hotel to continue our Halloween celebrations. We rented hotel rooms and a conference room on the hotel grounds, had no curfew, and got lots of different juices and drinks for our American fete (celebration). Even without water (the water had been cut that day) and sporadic electricity, we had a great time! People got pretty creative with their costumes, especially given the lack of materials available: we had several Peace Corpses (heh we’re clearly a witty bunch), several dignitaries (I was Princess Di, and President Obama made an appearance, along with a Cameroonian chief), and many others. After calling it a night, I went up to the hotel room and out of the corner of my eye, spied something big and black flit past my line of vision: a gigantic bat was in my room. With the lights on and me whimpering like a scared child, the bat became frenzied and was flitting all over the room at high speeds. I proceeded to throw a blanket over myself and quickly unlock the door, leaving it open in the hopes that the bat would fly out, all while simultaneously whimpering and swearing. After leaving the door unlocked, the power promptly went out, leaving me in pitch black with the whereabouts of the bat unknown. Gaah! After a couple minutes, the power came back on and several hotel staff members came to investigate the room. No bat, but the bat had left us a poop present on the sheets and pillows. After explaining to the hotel staff that no, I would prefer to sleep on clean sheets, not the ones the bat pooped all over (this was after I explained what the bat was, after not knowing the word for it in French), we worked together to change the sheets: all in all, an eventful end to the day. Upon returning to my home stay, the adventure didn’t end, as Pentecostal church was in full swing at 9:30 a.m. I intelligently decided to hang out in my room, and even over the movie coming from my headphones, I heard a woman screaming, and the preacher yelling ‘stop! Get out of her body, stop!’ several times. After the women let out several more yelps – it didn’t sound like she was in danger, and they stopped after several minutes (I didn’t intervene because there were at least 25 people in attendance, and there’s no doubt in my mind that if my mother got significantly shaken/super upset about little kids throwing rocks at us, she probably wouldn’t be okay with a woman being harmed in her living room…) Needless to say, I’m reasonably certain that this was some sort of exorcism/trance, given the context and what was said before and after. The church was a full 4.5 hours long, and I can’t say I was upset when it ended/everyone cleared out of the living room.

 These next few weeks will be pretty busy with lots of wrapping up technical training (learning how to plant and prepare soy, particularly into tofu, potentially as a future income generating activity within my community), and other tech and language sessions, leading up to us heading to Yaoundé and swearing in on November 20th – yay!

My New Address (aka, my shameful plug to write me letters)

My new address: Valerie Nelson P.O. Box 617 Mamfe, Cameroon Okay friends and family, it's time to remind me that life outside my little bubble in Cameroon actually does exist by sending me a letter (or if you're really ambitious and love me very much, maybe even a package with processed foods/cheese, to name but a few of the items I'm craving...) But in all seriousness, I'd love to hear from you, whether it be a quick note to update me on how you're doing, a soundbyte update of all that's happening in the news in the US, or just to guiltily use the Lisa Frank stationary that I know you've been hoarding somewhere. Either way, mail to my post is pretty reliable, and by that I mean that I'll get your letters/packages in (at best) 3 weeks to (at worst) 3 months. Letters are a wonderful treat to receive, and I'm guessing if you're reading this, you want to hear about my adventures just as much as I want to hear about yours! It's been one hell of an adventure/rollercoaster thus far, and it's been great/cathartic to share some of it so far with you guys.

Small small, catch monkey: Amusing Illness Causation Theories and Almost Getting Stoned (no, not the kind with substances)

This week was a bittersweet rollercoaster ride of emotions, with one moment being wonderful, and the next being either terrifying, or just not enjoyable. Baby Abdel and Mireille left on Monday morning, and as much as I was not a fan of his screaming/testing his vocal chord range at high volumes, usually during the hours of 2-5 a.m., when he clung to me in a tight hug, not even wanting to go back to his mother or grandmother, I was forced to admit that damn, I’m really going to miss the little guy. After all, I saw his first steps, his family left him with me to take care of while they had gone to the farm (unbeknownst to me at the time that they had left), after I was done playing with him, I could gladly give him back to his mom to take care of, and (possibly best of all), was never scared of me, the la blanche (white person). Mireille and Abdel are moving back to Yaounde to live permanently. Another bittersweet happening was in my discussion with one of my best friends here, who is seriously considering ET-ing (early terminating, aka going back home). As much as I support her and am happy that she’s given this a lot of thought, realizing that this isn’t for her, the thought of her leaving really shook (and is still shaking me up). It also forces me to really reevaluate and think again of why am I here; what do I want out of the experience; what can I give to the people in my community; what can I learn; what have I learned about myself, others, the world so far – all questions that are not easily grappled with. Suffice it to say, I either know these answers, or am excited to discover/experience/figure them out, and if ever that changes and I don’t know the answers or think that being in Cameroon is not where I need to be, I’ll leave. I refuse to be one of the PCVs that stays out of stubbornness, or the fear of the scarier changes ahead of going home, or fear of the potential rejection/judgment of the other PCVs – staying when I’m not passionate/invested in the experience benefits noone, and actively hurts both my community and myself. Anyway, lots to think about. Also, fun fact: Peace Corps has an acceptance rate of under 20%.

            I think my introspective/retrospective mood was also such because I wasn’t feeling well. Being sick in a foreign country is easily one of the worst possible feelings/things to experience. Armed with one of the nurses, Julia and I went to the Bafia district hospital to determine what was wrong with our respective bodies. Julia has bronchitis, and I had stomach/abdominal cramps that were causing me flash fevers and waves of nausea – pleasant, huh? At the hospital, Julia was informed that her bronchitis was due to the fact that Cameroon is much colder than the US and that her not wearing scarves/parkas/sweaters. Riiiggghhht. I was informed that my ailments were due to the fact that Cameroon has lots of spices. When I politely told the two medical professionals who were telling me this horseshit explanation for my illness, I was told that it was the parsley and celery spices that were doing me in. Gaaaahhh! One blood draw later, I was informed that although I don’t have malaria or parasites (it’s the simple things in life, like no parasites, that really make you appreciate life), but have food poisoning…for two weeks. Also, when I told my family that I could only eat simple foods, my mom asked if oranges were okay, and when I responded yes, she proceeded to give me one of the heaviest meals ever: boiled manioc balls the size of your fist (gotta love that starch), and tomato fish sauce swimming in palm oil. No oranges were in sight. But on the bright side, I feel significantly better now, after dealing with real food poisoning and a cold last night, and I’m getting lots of firsthand experience with the Cameroonian healthcare system.

            On the flip side, we had our second community group meeting with the secondary school girls in the health club. The girls were no less interested that the last time we met, and this time, our curriculum focused on educating the girls on the different family planning mechanisms available to them, stating the advantages and disadvantages of both; showing them proper condom use with a wooden phallus borrowed from my host mama (this is something I never envisioned doing, let alone wanted to do; in fact, I told the people in charge of the health program that this is something I really wasn’t interested in doing in my community, but here I am, wooden phallus and condom in hand demonstrating proper use…; and going through different role play and case study scenarios that encourage the girls to be empowered and ideas to facilitate the conversation on sexual health with their parents and guardians. As before, the meeting lasted over two hours, and could easily have gone on for much more. Lots of the girls could’ve easily continued asking us questions, but there were several girls that were tired and potentially bored – working with a group of 30+ girls, talking about a potentially taboo topic, is hard work, but rewarding.

            Back to the bad experience: almost getting stoned – as in, small children throwing rocks at the white people, and not just to get our attention, these girls were throwing stones with the aim of hitting us. The same girls had bothered me another day when I was coming back home – they grabbed my arm, demanded food and money, and then pushed my backpack when I walked away. I suspect they might’ve done more if I hadn’t whirled around and demanded that they go away (without turning my back on them), watching them as they walked away. This time, I was with two other PCTs and a PCV trainer, and the girls had done the same routine to the other PCTs who were walking ahead of us. After their demands of food and money were not met and we walked away, the PCV yelped in pain and grabbed her shin – the seemingly 7-year-old girl had thrown a rock. We turned around, speaking to them in French and saying ‘no!’ fervently, and turned away to go on our way. The next moment, Hannah yelped in pain and grabbed her head – a little harder and a half an inch lower, and Hannah could’ve been in serious medical trouble. After discussing what we wanted to do, all of us marched back to get the girls, and attempt to teach them a lesson. The one who had thrown the rock ran away, while the other children dragged back the other culprit (the rock-thrower’s 10-year-old sister who had goaded her on and grabbed our arms, making demands). After speaking with a nearby neighbor, we made the girl march us to her house, where we questioned her about her actions, told her we didn’t believe her when she told us it was a little game and that she told her sister not to do it, and that we wanted to see her parents/guardians and explain what she had done. Her aunt and uncle weren’t home, so we let the incident go. We all knew that regardless of them being home, the girls would probably get beat (corporal punishment is alive, well, and highly accepted in schools, homes, hospitals, and even work). I’m certainly not a fan of this, but I don’t know how to reconcile that with also wanting the girls to know the wrongness of their actions/that they can’t do this again. It’s a definite moral dilemma.

             In another incident of children’s misguided actions, my family had a guest (a young mother with a 4-year-old daughter and a young son – I’d be shocked if these kids didn’t have serious health issues already, namely parasites and upper respiratory infections). After my sister and the mother went to the kitchen with the baby, the girl marched over to me, and started punching me in the leg. I immediately grabbed her wrists, demanded to know what she was doing and why, and told her to stop. She stopped, but the next moment we were alone in the living room, the girl did it again. I grabbed her wrists (hard), she tried to bit my hand, and I wrangled her hands behind her back, cop-style, as I marched her into the kitchen to tell her mother and my sister. Both verbally scolded her, and not 10 minutes later, she was sitting on a small bench with me helping me clean a recently killed chicken (I watched it being killed and prepared it from directly after to table – a great feeling to see from farm to table). She then snuggled up to me, asked to help me peel garlic, and clung tightly to me in a hug at one point. Needless to say, I am baffled by children’s behavior here.

            On a happier note, Bafia people visited Bokito on Sunday and we had a celebration, complete with lots of cold drinks, lots of dancing to African and American music, street meat and spaghetti omelets, and hanging out – a phenomenal day. After Bafia people left, Bokito people crashed the training center and made dinner (pasta with Laughing Cow cheese, garlic, basil, and tomatoes) and watched a movie (“The Birdcage” – a movie about a homosexual couple, which was incredibly ironic due to the fact that Cameroon is one of the most homophobic countries in the world, where homosexuality is illegal and punishable by vigilante death), and ate popcorn. Easily one of the best nights I’ve had here so far.

            Pidgin has also been going really well, and is lots of fun to learn. Instead of being ‘broken English’ as I had originally thought, Pidgin has its roots in both the English and Portuguese languages, and is actually a pretty ancient language, with several different dialects in Africa. I’m very close to Nigeria in Kembong, and apparently Nigerians have their own unique editions/phrases in Pidgin. The title of the blog, ‘small small, catch monkey’ means ‘slowly, slowly, we will arrive.’ It’s also amazing that during Pidgin classes, all of us are shifting easily (usually without even a second thought) between three different languages (English, French, Pidgin) in order to learn. Knowing that we can do that, let alone are doing it unconsciously, is a great feeling of accomplishment. All in all, despite another rollercoaster week, I’m very happy/satisfied here, and can’t believe that in less than 3 weeks, I’ll be en route to my site and another life transition!

Catch Booby: Starting Pidgin, Condoms Causing Cancer, and other Fun Facts about Cameroonian Village Life

Every morning when I walk to training, I feel like I am stepping into one of the opening scenes of “Beauty and the Beast,” the one where Belle walks into town and quite literally EVERY villager (man, woman, or child) pauses whatever they were doing to say a friendly ‘bonjour.’ Now imagine that African villageois style, and without the cutesy Disney music in the background, and you’ve got my typical morning. Although saying ‘bonjour’ to every single child in a large group that is, like me, on their morning commute to school, sounds a bit tiring, it’s actually kind of enjoyable, and even more so when the old ladies (who, by the way, I greet with a ‘bonjour, Mama’ and a wave with my right hand – to wave with my left would be taboo since the left hand is characteristically only used for unclean things) return my greeting with a ‘bonjour, ma fille’ or ‘bonjour, ma cherié’ (hello, my daughter/another term of endearment). Although these greetings may seem small, it’s a sign that I have shown them respect in my greeting, and they have accepted it – always a good sign that the white person, although ignorant in other customs, can observe the basic politeness needed for greetings in a country where they are so important.

            This week of training was probably the best yet, due in no small part to the fact that we finally started learning more applicable content in our tech training, instead of talking in broad terms. Monday started off with our first TDA assignment (as with any government entity, the Peace Corps is rife with acronyms, and while I know what most mean, I won’t bother to spell out those that aren’t really important). Our job was to translate a series of questions into French regarding malaria, including insecticide-treated bed net (ITN) usage, knowledge about prevention and transmission of the disease, and other related questions. We were then to ask our families these questions, which conceded some very interesting answers. I also (finally) received confirmation on one of the million dollar questions - that regarding what my host mother actually does: she’s some sort of nurse, or nurse aid at the Bokito integrated health center. This means that she, and the rest of my family, know a lot about malaria transmission and prevention, including the importance of ITN usage every night (and tucking in the net), IPTp (intermittent preventive treatment for pregnant women) and other perceptions in the community, including the fact that many members of the community do not use nets because they perceive them to be hot, stifling, seem unable to breathe, and/or associate ITNs with an element of the traditional funerary rights. As a side note, my friend Kimmie’s family experienced the loss of one of their sons in a traffic accident, and after having the funeral in the home (both funerals, rather – one preliminary, and one after he was embalmed – or so I gather), the family retained the liver of their son as a sort of charm for good luck in the future – thought this was interesting. Although my family had fantastic knowledge about malaria, other families in the community did not, some thinking that malaria was caused by bad air, eating green mangoes, or the result of some act of sorcery.

We also had the opportunity to practice our PACA (participatory assessment for community action) and CNA (community needs assessment) tools with a community group. Although much (okay, most) of my MPH education focusing on health policy and management will probably not be applicable to my life in Cameroon, it was nice to be able to finally apply some of the behavioral/social tools that I learned while at Emory. I’m with the group working with roughly 40 secondary school students (ages ranging from 11-28) from the school’s health club to put our PACA/CNA tools into action. We designed an initial assessment with the target topic of sexual health, specifically HIV/AIDS, and knowledge regarding contraceptives. After the initial icebreaker activity and dividing the group into males and females in separate rooms (we figured, correctly I might add, that the division of the sexes would make for an environment more conducive to discussing potentially sensitive topic areas). The leader of the club, the male biology professor at the school, thought we should not be doing sexual health, but instead wanted us to focus our efforts on WASH (water and sanitation health) – which he told us after we arrived and told him our pre-formulated program for the session… Our tech liaison, Theo, said that that would not be possible, as we had already prepared our session, but that we would attempt to incorporate WASH if at all possible. After we started with the group (after working with them to create a set of ground rules/expectations, including confidentiality), it was clear that WASH was not at all on their minds. While the girls had seemed seriously demure with the presence of the males in the room, when the guys headed out, it was as if someone flipped a switch on their personalities: they were animated, they were fighting to ask questions, and they wanted to hear and be heard on their own terms – if I had to describe it in a word, I’d say these ladies felt empowered. And aside from that being good for them, it’s also a damn good feeling to know that I could facilitate them feeling this way, if only for a few hours.

As a side note about gender relations, I had an incident with my host family the other night. I made popcorn with my three host sisters, my creepy host brother was nowhere to be find, not that I minded, since yes, this is the very same who expressed his undying love for me on various occasions, most of which occur when I am dripping in sweat and fairly positive that I stink. After making American-style popcorn with melted margarine (what I wouldn’t do for a real stick of cold butter) and salt (Cameroonians put sugar and salt on their popcorn), my host brother came into the kitchen as I was talking with my oldest host sister, Mireille. I didn’t notice he was there until he whispered ‘bon soir’ (good evening) in my ear in what I can only assume he meant to be a seductive voice – it had the exact opposite effect on me. He then announced to Mireille that he was hungry, when the huge cooking pots of dinner (my family makes enough food to feed a small army every evening) were sitting not two feet away. He then told her to get him dinner, to which Mireille replied something to the effect of ‘no, I’m tired, please get it yourself because I’m having a conversation with Valerie,’ and I respond with “Ha! The cooking pots of food are right there, so how about you get it yourself, Daniel.” He responded by looking at me, giving me an indulgent smile, and shaking his head no. Mireille looked at me helplessly, and then proceeded to get her brother (10 years her junior, and who, to my knowledge, doesn’t do a damn thing in the house except sweep occasionally and chop wood) his dinner. Needless to say, I’m still irked by the situation, and am nothing but curtly cordial to him since then. However, since then, I’ve had a couple awesome bonding moments with my sisters and mama, most notably, singing Celine Dion, Michael Jackson and Shakira at the top of our lungs with only the light of kerosene lamps while the power was out (sensing a pattern here from a previous post?). I also was roped into teaching them the dance steps to Thriller. All in all, I really enjoy these little moments with my family. 

 

Getting back to the community group, though. The ladies had lots of questions, each demonstrating a different set of knowledge and experiences regarding sexual health; many mentioned that they did not have a family member or guardian who they could consult about sexual health issues; one girl asked us if condoms cause cancer or any other diseases; another told us that she got birth control pills from the “pharmacy” stands that pop up on market day (untrained villagers selling potentially counterfeit drugs, or at the very least, drugs of highly-questionable validity and ingredients, some of which could have fatal consequences – my host mama has known women who have miscarried due to the effects of taking supposedly inane medicines from these pharmacy stands); after acquiring the birth control pills, the girl then proceeded to share them with her friends (thereby completing defeating the purpose); and just generally interesting tidbits and questions about whether or not they had the right to ask their partner to wear protection, or insist on using contraceptive methods in a relationship. All fascinating, really. We have two follow-up sessions with the health club in the upcoming weeks, and I can only hope that they will be as interesting/informative as this first one.

After the community group session, and reading more about the SW region, I’ve been seriously thinking about projects that I could do in my community. One that I’m particularly excited about builds on the knowledge that I acquired in my research in Tanzania, about the integration of medical systems: biomedicine and ethnomedicine (more commonly referred to as ‘traditional medicine’). The SW region has the highest degree of animism, shamanism, and ethnomedical use in Cameroon, and I’m told that many women still turn to traditional birth attendants (TBAs) instead of the staff at health centers when their time comes. So, my preliminary idea for a project (again, this is highly tentative and may not even feasible in Kembong) would be to promote a partnership and build capacity between natural healers/TBAs and health center staff, to foster a degree of cooperation, and ideally to hold dual training sessions for practitioners from each medical system; particularly for TBAs to have some sort of training in additional birthing methods to promote the safest birth possible, particularly if the woman cannot make it to the health center, or is hindered due to other barriers (distance, money, time, etc). Again, highly tentative idea, but I’m still excited about it, and what I can accomplish with my community. After my interview with the country director, Jackie, she seemed particularly excited about the idea, and from her preliminary knowledge about the region/Kembong, thought that project might in fact be feasible! We also learned about the importance of PACA/CNA and constructing programs with your community that are culturally relevant and actually needed when we heard about a huge Plumpynut program in the Adamoua, where an NGO came in and distributed mass amounts of the nutritious substance to malnourished children – unfortunately, the mothers of these children proceeded to keep their children malnourished, choosing instead to feast on the Plumpynut themselves or sell it and reap the benefits, since they realized that the NGO would continue to hand out mass quantities of the substance without any monitoring and evaluation measures and/or community contribution to the project. 

            On Saturday, we had our second LPI (language placement interview), and I was not about to have a repeat performance of my first LPI in Yaoundé. My language instructor, Jackie, and I practiced and did several mock interviews beforehand. All the practice and hard work paid off, as I went from novice low to intermediate mid in the language levels! I was very pleased, and even more so because intermediate mid is the target level for those going to Anglophone regions, meaning that I don’t ever have to take another LPI, and I can start learning Pidgin – hooray! ‘Catch booby’ is Pidgin for bra, by the way. The weekend continued on a high note when half the health stagiares went to Bafia for an evening of hanging out with the Bafia stagiares, drinking shade-temperature beer, and generally enjoying a night away from Bokito. I stayed with my friend, Kate (a youth development volunteer) and had the luxury of watching the first episodes of the new season of Downton Abbey (yay!) and making scrambled eggs (sans onions or tomatoes – another big yay!) on a gas-fueled stove – oh, the luxury. Sunday continued to be good with another dance party with my sisters and getting my hair braided again. Although I’ll miss my fellow stagiares dearly, I can’t say that I’ll be too disappointed if the next few weeks of PST pass quickly so that I can be at my post. But for now, I’m sitting pretty and wuna waka fine (you all have a good life/time)!

Chop Bushpussy: Finding Out My Site!

Yesterday I found out my post – yay! Weirdly enough, I had several dreams throughout last week that I would be placed in Kembong, my first choice apart from Pitoa. Over this past week, I had heard repeatedly from volunteers that the Northwest region was the best in all senses – climate, work, people, food, pretty much everything. The Southwest was a close second, only made so because of the weather – it’s more hot and humid in the Southwest. Additionally, I had heard that the post in Pitoa was not ideal due to the level of corruption and mismanagement present in the partner organizations, and that conducting work in Anglophone regions was significantly easier due to the fact that projects could often get off the ground faster without the language barrier for novice/intermediate speakers such as myself. All in all, I was super pleased when they announced that I would be in Kembong, in the Southwest, but very close (only a 2-hour drive) to the Northwest – yay!! Kembong has everything that I was looking for in a site: it’s a replacement site, but hasn’t had a health volunteer since the last one COS-ed (close of serviced) in 2011, so I have the advantage of being in a place where the community members are familiar with volunteers, but not expecting me to be exactly like the last volunteer, or continue with their projects (I hope…). Kembong is also a semi-urban site, meaning that the population is around 10,000, meaning that there will be a variety of stakeholders to work with (ideally). Kembong has also historically had a lot of NGO and other aid organization money being pumped into the community, due in part (I think) because the people are very willing to be invested in the projects, and are amenable to community input/ownership (at least according to the COS report that the previous volunteer wrote). It’s also closer to a large metropolitan area; 12 km away from the city of Mamfe, and only about two hours away from one of the quaintest cities in Cameroon, Bamenda. The SW region is also home to Mt. Cameroon, lots of waterfalls and forests, some of the best beaches in the country, lots of variety of food, and has a characteristically warm and open culture. Also, I have running water and electricity at my site, and reliable cell phone reception – huge win. Needless to say, I’m very pleased. I’m also very close to another health volunteer (Julia is 7 km away), and a CED (Community Economic Development) volunteer, who is actually in Kembong with me. The SW is interesting, too, in the fact that we have four seasons – two rainy and two dry. I’ll also be learning WAPE (West African Pidgin English) in addition to French, since the SW is Anglophone. The title ‘chop bushpussy’ is a nod to Pidgin, and means ‘I cook wild cats” - some people will occasionally cook wild cats (not like domesticated cats, like jungle wildcats cats) that they find – not often, I might add. Thought it was an interesting phrase, and made me excited to learn more Pidgin. For the most part, every health volunteer seems pleased with their site, and most got a post that was in their top three on the bidding sheet. Here’s hoping the next three ish weeks of training fly by so that I can finally head to Kembong and be a real PCV!

Also, I'm planning on posting lots of pictures from the waterfalls in Nkongsamba, my family's farm, and general life in Bokito, but will have to do it next week, since the power is out, and has been out since Tuesday, in Bokito and Bafia. Ashia (sorry), but they're coming! 

Malaria Tests, Waterfalls, and Cheese: Adventures from site visit and feeling like a real person

This has by far been one of the most exciting weeks of my time here in Cameroon thus far, due to the fact that I could finally start to feel like a real PCV, an actual competent, capable adult living in Africa. It’s not to say that I don’t enjoy and appreciate my time with my host family, but getting a glimpse of what life could be like at my post was a much-needed reprieve from the monotony of training. Although earlier this past week, something unexpected happened. Despite the best efforts of the men on market day to be ‘derangy’ (meaning disturbing, annoying, or bothersome), it was a little girl who actually coped a feel: the girl was no more than 8 (I think; it’s incredibly difficult for me to tell the age of Cameroonians), and after responding to her greeting on my walk home, I felt a slight touch on my butt – I’m assuming that the girl wanted to touch a white person for a comparison, but missy, next time, how about you choose someplace a little better than the butt, okay? When I looked back at her, she immediately averted her eyes like someone caught with her hands in the cookie jar. Actual butt touch aside, the interaction didn’t bother me, but rather amused me that she was so fascinated.

            The week started off with training sessions geared towards preparing us for our site visit, although we knew nothing of the actual logistics of our site visit until 4:30 pm the night before we were to depart for our respective host sites: ‘c’est le vie’ has become a common and increasingly appropriate phrase for life in the Peace Corps. On Wednesday morning, armed with our bags and moto helmets, we headed to the training center in Bafia to divide up into our respective buses/sections for the first leg of the journey. PC deliberately chose sites that were no more than an 8-hour journey from Bafia, so that we could all make the return trip in one day on Sunday. Although good, this also meant that no one got to go the Grand North (Adamoua and Far North regions, both of which have health posts up for grabs). Both my small group of Alexi, Karen, Spencer, Alec and I, and the bigger West/Northwest group headed to Bafoussam, the regional capital of the West region, where we were to meet our respective hosts. When we arrived, we reveled in the fact that it was actually kind of chilly, meaning we weren’t sweating like pigs all the time – hooray! After checking into the regional house, we divided up and went out for lunch and to a real supermarket (one with aisles and ). We all reveled in the fact that there are actually multiple different types of oil here (if you asked me, I could’ve sworn that the main ingredient in Cameroonian cuisine is palm oil), cookies and biscuits, tea, and chocolate, we made our purchases and headed to the bus station. Our main mode of transportation in Bafoussam was cab, think a small car that seats maybe five comfortably. Now imagine that with seven or eight people…yeah, comfort was nonexistent. Sometimes there’s also a ‘petit chauffeur,’ a passenger who sits in the driver’s seat with him. After getting ice cream (read: non-amoeba-filled, deliciously cold and frosty ice cream), we went to the bus station. After getting out of the taxi, we discovered that several of the men at the bus station had taken our bags, and they were nowhere to be found (insert internal heart-sinking feeling here). After repeatedly asking where our bags were, in increasingly louder and more insistent volume, we finally found our bags about to be loaded onto another bus headed for Doula (to be fair, Nkongsamba is on the Doula bus route, but we were not planning on taking that bus). Gaah, what a nightmare. Thankfully, nothing had been taken, and before too long, we were on our way. When we stopped at a gas station just outside the city (after cramming the bus to twice it’s recommended capacity, mind you), we had to fight with the driver and his assistant to pay the actual fare, and not the ‘la blanche’ fair…ooof. We then were on our way, and after dropping some PCTs off in Bafang, we arrived in Nkongsamba (pronounced just like it sounds, but without saying the ‘n’). Gillian and Bridget (our hosts; Gillian is a health volunteer, and Bridget a Youth Development, both just past their first year of service) arrived shortly after on motos and took us to their houses to drop our stuff off before heading to a bar for some much-deserved cold refreshments and food. Gillian and Bridget’s houses are definitely posh corps material (a play on ‘peace corps,’ meaning when a volunteer has a super nice set up): both have running water and electricity, indoor gas-powered stoves, two bathrooms, and multiple rooms. Needless to say, this really felt like a vacation. After getting spaghetti omelets (cooked spaghetti with onions, tomatoes, avocados, and peppers, all mixed with two eggs and fried) and avocado salads, we chilled out a nearby bar. We also had our first experience taking motos – an amazingly exhilarating experience and by far my favorite means of transportation thus far. There are only two PC countries where volunteers are allowed to ride motos: Cameroon and the Dominican Republic. If we get caught riding a moto without our helmets, it’s grounds for immediate administrative separation from the PC (aka, fancy talk for saying we get fired). The typical moto ride costs 100 CFA (this changes based on distance, obviously), and is by far the most common means of transportation in Cameroon – even women in tight skirts and dresses do it, although some doing it sidesaddle.

            After sleeping in, the next day we headed to meet one of Gillian’s unofficial counterparts, Bleshes. Bleshes runs a bi-lingual residential school for students ages 8-23, and charges fees on a sliding scale, which is practically unheard of in a nation where everything is paid out-of-pocket and credit cards are nonexistent. The school grounds were lovely – lots of green space, an infirmary, modified/advanced cooking area (meaning that the kitchen staff was not cooking in an unventilated enclosed space), and separate housing areas for the girls and boys. Bleshes, a native of the anglophone Northwest region, was happy to chat with us and after an assistant showed us the natural spring project that they’ve undertaken to provide a constant water supply source for the school, and nearby hospital and residents, Bleshes showed us the construction site for his dream hospital. After spending agonizing hours on a hospital layout for one of my capstone classes this summer, I could really appreciate the time and thoughtfulness that Bleshes had devoted to making his hospital ideal for both patients and providers: he thought of patient flow, patient and provider needs and comforts, services virtually unheard of in Cameroon, like physical therapy, massage therapy, exercise equipment, and several operating theatres - even thinking of airflow and private gardens for the patients and families to relax. Bleshes then dropped us off in town at the Parthenon, a bakery, supermarket, and restaurant owned by an immigrant Greek couple, which had amazing ham and cheese (read: real cheese!) croissants, amazing pastries, and cold drinks. Post-lounging and eating, we decided to spend the night at the pet project site of Bridget, an orphanage just outside of town. One packed car ride later (8 people crammed into one tiny car), and a bumpy Land Cruiser trip later, we arrived at the orphanage, just as the children were getting out of class. If ever there was a time that I’ve experienced fame, this was it. The children were really excited to see us, and bombarded us with questions and requests for pictures. Post-greetings, we headed to the guest house for the night where we munched on sugared, grilled peanuts and cochi (I think that’s how it’s spelled, but it’s a fried creation made by grinding up white beans and mixing them with palm oil, which gives it a look almost like a slice of pumpkin pie), followed by watching “Pitch Perfect” and crashing on couches and foam mattresses.

            The next day, after visiting the nursery school orphans, we said our goodbyes and headed back to Nkongsamba to check out the regional hospital. I hadn’t been feeling the greatest, so it was a perfect opportunity to do a rapid malaria test with some semblance of accuracy (I have my serious doubts about the validity of the rapid test kits they gave us to use in the field…). While waiting for the results of the test, we walked around and met the doctors, explored different wings of the hospital, met Gillian’s counterpart with whom she runs the cervical cancer screening and outreach program, and had cold sodas with the anglophone OB/GYN. The results of the test came back negative – both a good thing and a bad thing, because if I don’t have malaria, it begs the question of what has been making me feel so awful? This remains to be seen. From the hospital we found Gillian’s favorite sandwich guy, Claude, and had amazing sandwiches on the cheap (400 francs for half a baguette sandwich with a hard-boiled egg, avocado, salad, meatballs, and vinaigrette – very delicious). We then went shopping at another real supermarket for the ingredients to our American dinner that night: none other than spaghetti and meatballs with cheese (warm Laughing Cow, or ‘La Vache Qui Ris’ as it’s known here). We hung out with the PCVs and their host-country national friends while we ate dinner, played BS, and I taught them how to play euchre (for anyone not from the Midwest, it’s an amazing card game that I played all. the. time. when I was in Tanzania). Post-dinner, we celebrated our one-month anniversary of being in Cameroon with drinks and dancing to African music.

            The next day started off in one of the best possible ways: with hot-out-of-the-oven chocolate croissants at Parthenon. We grabbed these and other food before we took a one-hour moto ride to a national park with gigantic waterfalls, where, interestingly, the original Tarzan film was made. The view was absolutely breathtaking – both on the ride there, and at the lookout point. We also hiked down to near the bottom of the falls on a treacherous path (path is a loose term – we were hiking through feet of straight mud on the practically vertical hike down over slippery mud and rocks as we were sprayed by the waterfall). On the way back, one of the motos had a flat tire, meaning that four of us crammed on one moto for the bumpy, unpaved ride back – definitely a workout for thighs and abs as each of us attempted to stay in our respective spots on the moto. When we got back, we made popcorn and then tea (I’m really enjoying the simple pleasures/comforts that good food can bring), and then went fabric and food shopping for our Thai dinner later. Several hours later, we enjoyed an amazing meal of jasmine rice topped with veggies in a peanut sauce – amazingly delicious, probably because of its novelty.  

            The next day we headed back to reality on a five-hour bus ride. We only took off an hour and a half later than the scheduled time, due in part because two tires and brake pads needed to be changed on the bus. As we watched, we were half horrified that they were just doing this now, but also relieved that hopefully our bus wouldn’t break down on the way. On Monday, our health tech training really started in earnest, even though it was incredibly difficult to focus with post announcements on Wednesday looming over our heads. Overall, an amazing week that was very refreshing, and made me revitalized to head back to training, and really excited to find out my post!