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!
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