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.