fulfilling (or lack thereof) my duties as a woman

For one, I am a terrible cook. At least in these conditions. I still have not been able to find a gas tank for my stove. I don’t understand how there are just not any bottles and an explanation has yet to be given so it remains a mystery why I cannot find one. So I cook over charbon (charcoal) and it is Difficult! There is a technique to lighting the charcoal that I cannot seem to master so that takes about an hour. Then actual cooking time takes about another one to two hours depending on how long it takes for the charcoal to really heat up. I have to plan my meals far in advance so usually I try to make as much food as possible that will keep without a fridge. So far I have made goopy pasta, runny oily eggs and metallic-tasting rice (that’s a whole other story that I will not get into here). None of it has actually tasted good but I guess it is edible because I haven’t gotten sick. I managed to eat most of the meals mostly because I was hungry but I had to throw some of it to the dogs. My lack of skill is embarrassing. It gets better every time so hopefully soon the food will be decent! Good thing for Maggie seasoning (MSG in a cube).

And second, I often surprise people when they ask me if I am married and have kids and I respond no to both questions. Sometimes for shock value I like to add that I don’t want this. I mean I am a lady of child-bearing age (if not too old), what else could I possible want? Then they start inquiring about if I would marry an African, specifically a Cameroonian. I have had some people, usually men, tell me as-a-matter-of-fact that I will get married and spend the rest of my life here. (They obviously don’t know me. Not that I am necessarily opposed to the idea but I am not really the type to sit in one spot.) Guys will ask to be my petit ami (boyfriend) the second time they see me. I feel as though they see me as a ticket out of here. The ‘unwanted attention’ does get tiring but it quickly makes you realize an aspect of life here: relationships of the genders.

A round of applause for teachers everywhere…and especially those in conditions such as these.

Although I have only been a teacher for a couple short months, I have gained a tremendous fold of respect for other teachers. This is a hard job, no doubts about it. I teach in concrete classrooms with completely open windows (the weather is mostly just hot so it works okay), so bugs, bees and lizards have free range. Parts of the roof are even missing in one of the classrooms. There are about 60 students in each of my classes sitting two to three at wooden desks.

Not only are the conditions rough, but actual teaching is tough. It is different everyday how the students will react. One day they could listen, take notes and participate in everything and the next day they couldn’t care less what I am doing in the front of the classroom. It is quite a feeling to be standing in front of 60 students with blank faces or not concentrating at all. I could make a lesson plan that I think will totally rock but becomes a total flop. It can definitely be frustrating but they are just kids and actually teaching me something. What’s that? Patience. And the job is more tiring than I ever imagined. It is like you are performing in front of the students and you constantly have to keep their minds attentive. Five hours in and I’m done. Props to those teachers who have to teach for longer.

Teaching has its perks too. Sometimes a class can go so well it puts me in a state of amazement. (Usually the next class breaks it pretty fast). But I will have to say that it is quite another feeling when you see a child’s face light up because he understands. You are getting through to someone. And the kids are quirky too. They can usually make me smile or laugh at their antics. I will catch them misbehaving and I all have to do is give them a look and they get all squeamish and scared. And sometimes they are just straight out funny. And every once in awhile they will yell at each other if the class starts to become too loud. A true miracle: when I don’t have to punish the students because they do it themselves.

Teachers everywhere deserve more than just a round of applause but that is all I got now.

a few natural bumps in the road never hurt anybody

After about a week of travel and banking, I finally moved in to my house at my post. My completely empty house except for my luggage and me. But on the upside, I live right next to a couple of mountains! I’ve climbed up them a bit to see the whole view and it is wondrous to see so far. Especially now since the landscape is still green, but in a month everything will be a dusty brown. My counterpart that I met with during training was affected to another school district but he was nice enough to come back for a day to introduce me to other school officials. So far everyone has been very friendly to me (maybe even too friendly sometimes). But I am slowly making friends and getting to know the community. As the only white girl in the village, people already know who I am and that I am teaching English at the lycee. It’s a little awkward when they come up to me like we’ve have known each other forever and I have no idea who they are. I spoke with a Catholic Mission here about getting some furniture built and I finally received that a week ago! I have had trouble finding a gas tank for a stovetop so I lived off street food for two weeks. Since my village is pretty small there is only benins (fried dough) and cooked beans. It was like the Fourth of July fireworks in my intestines for a good week. And my bathroom is an outside pit latrine (basically just a hole in the ground) so that has been interesting. I made friends with these two sisters who cooked for me and showed me how to cook meals over a fire. So I can eat real food finally! I’ve already seen some of the difficulties I will face as a female and how my experience will be different from a male volunteer. There are two other volunteers about 10 kilometers away in a bigger town where I can escape to if I need support. Petit a petit.

I’m officially a volunteer! (well, practically)

So tomorrow I will swear-in as a Peace Corps Volunteer. This means I am officially employed by the U.S. government! Yay for a permanent job! It also means that training is over! And that our whole group made it to the end without anybody leaving yet! Sorry for all the exclamations, it’s just all a very exciting time.

So I also leave for post on thursday and am on my own once I get there. It has been a crazy two months of emotions. It’s been stressful, exciting, nerve-wracking, touching and more. The group spends every day during training together and we’re family now.

I am thrilled to leave for post and settle in where I will live for the next two years but it will be hard to leave everyone. I have heard numerous times that the first three months at post are the hardest because it is a whole another set of adjustments we have to acclimate to. And we are on our own to figure it out. Wish me luck! And let the ride continue…

Oh my love of bicycles and tomatoes inspire my writings

Last Saturday we received our mountain bikes and a full four hours of how to make them work. Okay, so it was more like how to fix and maintain them which I guess is pretty useful information. Anyways, I was still pumped to get a bike even though it is a heavy mountain bike…road bikes just can’t handle the Cameroonian terrain. I finally took it for a spin the other day with a couple of friends around the village. Let me tell you, there is nothing more breathtaking then riding my bike through the hills of this gorgeous town. I mean the views are amazing (I wish my camera could capture the beauty in the same way I see it) and after pedaling up some of those hills, I literally couldn’t breathe. But the downhills are intense! I’m a little afraid not to brake a little on them but they are so exhilarating. But about halfway through the ride, my bike decided to break and a part just fell off. I was going slow enough that it didn’t matter but I couldn’t ride without it so we ended up having to walk an hour back home. Still made the 7 pm curfew though!

Another story I would like to share is about tomatoes. A lot of the Cameroonian dishes are made with a tomato type sauce, therefore a lot of tomatoes are diced up. But there are no cutting boards here. So what do ya do? Oh, just cut it in your hand! But don't you worry, the knife is too blunt to cut yourself. My mother definitely laughed at me when she had to show me how to cut the tomato. I tried to explain that I know how to cut a tomato, just in a different way but I could clearly see on her face what she was thinking – ‘stupid Americans’. After cutting a whole bowl of tomatoes, I would have to say I’m not bad at it. Not good per say...but not bad.

Car talks and Cow Stomach

Last week I had to make a trip to the provincial capital in the west with a couple other volunteers to fix some banking issues we had. Our training director, David who is an awesome Cameroonian, took us in a Peace Corps vehicle. He has been very helpful and accommodating and even plays soccer with us every Thursday. Anyways, to get to the point, we were conversing in the car and somehow we came up on the topic of our host families and what they get in return for allowing us to stay there. Most of us assuming that Peace Corps pays them plenty, without saying any type of amount David informed us that they receive just a little. Not even enough for all our food and utilities (water, electricity) that we use! Then he mentioned that some of the families do not even accept the payment. They just want to do it because they want to help. He explained, “Africans do not have money, but they always have space for foreigners. And food to go around." Just made me think. And it think it made more of an impact when were driving by poor neighborhoods and slums.

And speaking of food, I ate cow stomach the other night by accident. It was kinda dark when my sister gave me my plate of food but I could tell it was meat and boiled plantains in some sauce. So I asked her if the meat was beef and she said yes. So I took a bite and it didn't taste like any beef I've ever tasted before. Very rubbery and not much flavor. So I asked her again what type of meat and she explained that it was the stomach of the cow. She must have saw my face because she laughed and asked me if I didn't like it. I managed to swallow the piece of meat but she happily proceeded to eat the rest of the meat off of my plate. I lost my appetite. Needless to say, I am very excited to start cooking for myself.

It’s only a bus, train and moto ride away…but remember your helmet.

By looking at the map, it is quite a bit a ways away from the center region. In fact it takes about 2 ½ days of continuous travel time to get there from where I am at right now. And traveling in Cameroon is an experience in itself that I would like to share with you all.

First I take a five hour bus ride to Yaoundé, the capital, to catch an overnight train. Imagine the first time riding on a train was in Africa! The train has different cars for different ticket prices. Since I was traveling with three other trainees who are posted in the north we got a ‘couchette’ which is a very small room with four beds and a window. It can get really shaky but for the majority of the time it is pleasant to lay down, watch the scenery fly by and feel the breeze. The train can take anywhere from 14 to 24 hours depending on what type of problems it runs in to, including derailment. It seems as though the train derailing is a common occurrence and nothing to worry about, but I have hard time wrapping my head around that idea.

Then there is another eight-hour bus trip to my post. The easiest way to describe the buses is they are like large vans with rows of benches across and no seat belts. What would normally fit five people comfortably across, Cameroon squeezes in at least eight. If you are not touching the person next to you then the driver can fit in more passengers. I’ve actually become used to it pretty quickly and it makes me feels safer when the driver is hurtling down bumpy dirt roads. I feel like I have less of chance of popping out if there was an accident.

And motos are used around the village. They are cheaper and can get to more places than a car could fit. Peace Corps requires us to wear helmets so we have to lug around a clunky helmet when we travel. And we are the only people who wear them; I’m not even sure if Cameroonians understand why. A little bit scary at first, but then motos turn out to be fun once you get used to them.

I will always have lots more traveling stories to tell but that is all for now. The most important part of traveling here is to not pay attention to the actual driving. It will just make you sick and scared for the whole trip.