Taking the Good with the Bad

It was another busy week of training with lots of both exciting and not-so-pleasant experiences. On the subject of training, our days are structured as follows: on days when we are in Bokito, classes start at 8 am, and the day is divided into four sections: section one from 8-10:15 ish, a short break from 10:15 to 10:30, session two from 10:30-12:30, lunch break from 12:30-1:30, session 3 from 1:30-3, short break from 3-3:15, and then the final session from 3:15-4:30. On days when we go to Bafia to be with the other PCTs, we have to be at the training session in Bokito by 7 am to make the 25 minute drive from Bokito to Bafia, and the days are structured in the same way. As far as the training events/sessions go, it really depends on the day. Generally, days spent in Bafia are filled usually with sessions on any number of topics, including: safety and security; transportation and security; nutrition; food security; sexual awareness and assault; health; malaria, etc. Language sessions are often peppered in between the other sessions, although some days we have the whole day of language – all six hours in French. We also have ‘tech’ sessions thrown in, although the tech sessions are held in Bokito exclusively, meaning that these sessions deal with strictly health issues that pertain to health volunteers. Some examples of these tech sessions are: the history of public health; differences between international and global health; the role of health volunteers in Cameroon; malaria; HIV/AIDS, etc. Tech sessions are hands-down my favorites, as they directly relate to what I’ll encounter in my position at post. Not to say that the other sessions aren’t good – they’re actually very valuable – but tech is by far more interesting.

Last Saturday, we did a really cool group of sessions called “French Immersion – Open Door.” There were several different stands set up, and after choosing a scenario, the volunteer would act out the scenario at the stand: for example, there was a moto stand, and my scenario was that the moto driver did not know the way to my destination, and I had to give him directions in French. Other stands included: the police station, different aspects of the market, a restaurant, a conversation with host families regarding food preparation, the hospital, etc. All in all, a really cool way to practice French once I got over my initial nervousness. After we finished the sessions, several of us walked to the market (“it is hot” was the common sentiment of the day), about a 4-mile walk in the glaring heat, the entirety of which was spent dodging motos that seemed to make it their mission to hit the white people. We walked around for a bit at the market – a very different experience from the Monday Bokito market. We explored food stands (interesting finds: ginseng, gigantic avocados, Laughing Cow cheese, and several bakeries), clothing stands, and just looked around. Post-market visit, we headed to another PCT, Joe’s house where his host mother (who also owns a restaurant) made us “American” food – a delectable treat with sweet potato fries, fruit salad, avocado salad, chicken, bundt cake, and even ‘cheeseburgers,’ complete with Laughing Cow cheese and two meatball size pieces of meat – never had something tasted better. Afterwards, we headed back to Bokito to spend the rest of the weekend with family. My family decided to hold their Pentecostal church service in our living room (all three hours of the gloriously not-in-tune, clashing harmonies, and extended readings in French). Despite the experience not being a favorite of mine, I could still appreciate the music and everyone’s dedication to, and enthusiasm for their worship. On the subject of spirituality/religion, my last-surviving and dearest grandpa was admitted to the ER on Sunday, and I would ask everyone to keep him in their thoughts/prayers – he means a lot to me, and although I can’t really do anything to help the situation (either being here, or even if I was there), the experience of not knowing and helplessness is not fun in any sense.

            On Monday, we switched language instructors, and I’m still figuring Jacqueline out. She’s a 40-year-old, never-married woman from the North, and by god, she is a force to be reckoned with. I learned this firsthand in several ways. The first was a debacle with the Anglophone tailor in Bokito, Blessings (if you ask me, the name ‘Blessings’ is a complete juxtaposition to this horrid woman’s demeanor). I had gone to her after a fellow PCT had such good luck with her making various clothing items. After telling me my things would be done on Saturday, and after ensuring that she understood my wishes for the clothing (we were communicating in English, for goodness sakes), I returned Monday with high hopes. Not only were my things not anywhere near completion, but she had not lined things (she explicitly promised she would), admitted she had ‘forgotten’ to put a zipper on my dress (how the hell am I supposed to try on a dress that I can’t even nudge over my lower thigh?!), a dress that she decided should be in two pieces instead of one (because that makes perfect sense, right?), and genie pants that turned out looking like I had a dinosaur tail….ooof. Jacqueline fought with the lady, saying that I was not happy, and that I would not be paying the full amount for shoddy craftsmanship that was late and incomplete. To make her point, she even made up a story about how I had a dance party on Saturday that I was counting on wearing the dress to, and since I couldn’t, I had to purchase another dress. When Blessings started snidely talking in Pidgin to her colleague, Jacqueline calmly turned to her and said that she knows Pidgin, and didn’t appreciate the lady’s snide remarks. Blessings’ expression belied someone that wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Score of the verbal sparring: Jacqueline: 2, Blessings: nil. After four separate visits, and a headache later, I picked up my stuff and paid her much less. Upon my return home, I related the story of the experience to my family, who was sympathetic, although not sympathetic enough to not point out that the workmanship was awful and that I still overpaid – greeeaaat. After promises to take me to their personal tailor next weekend, my hurt pride/headache had abated. Additionally, the experience was not helped by the fact that the harassment from men in the market reached a new high – I was called ‘my queen, my queen, queen of my heart,’ ‘mon cherie,’ ‘aaaayy, baybee,’ etc. When I told my family about it, we all were able to laugh about it together, and I practiced my death stare for future use.

            Another not-so-hot experience of the day was the placement interviews. I went in and asked Sylvie and Maureen where they thought that my skill set/experiences would be most useful (I had unfortunately done the thing that I had promised myself I wouldn’t: I’d become attached to the Pitoa site in the North). Sylvie said that she had been thinking about this site for me, and that with my experience, I was the perfect candidate for the position, an ideal post for me, except for a few key details: she said that it was a post for a second- or third-year PCV, they weren’t interested in posting a new stagiare there, and that in order to succeed, one would need to be of advanced fluency in French, be able to write reports to UNICEF HQ in French, and master Fulfulde, the most prevalent local language in the Grand North regions. Had it not been for that, she told me I would have been posted there. Huge bummer. But worse was the fact that the other stagiares who were interested in Pitoa were told something completely different, two of the same level in French (and public health experience) having totally different experiences: one being told that her French proficiency wasn’t good enough, while the other being told that UNICEF was anxious to have another volunteer soon. WHAT. Needless to say, I’m baffled and more than a little upset. Although I know they’ll place me in the site where I’ll be best, the bidding process has been a frustrating experience. Ah, well, no sense in getting upset over it now, and in a week, I’ll know my post – yay!

            Despite this week probably being the toughest yet, I’m still enjoying it, appreciating those things that are going well, and taking the good with the bad. I’m grateful for a great host family that’s made me feel like a true part of their family, reassuring/supportive conversations with family and friends, and the fact that there’s still much to do/experience. I’ll be in Nkongsamba, the regional capital of the Littoral region, in the next four days, and will be staying with a health volunteer – I’m very excited!