Swinging Back Into Your Lives

Me swinging back into your life

This past Monday, February 8th, marked six months at post. Six months ago I arrived in Nchemba II, my new home for the next two years. If you're looking at a map of Cameroon, find Bamenda. Now look for Mamfe. There's a road connecting the two. Find where the Manyu River crosses that road and you've found me! Here's some little tidbits to catch you up with my hippyhaps. 

How is my life 6 months after moving to post? Well, my house is still mostly unfurnished but I do have a bird nest chair! My mattress is still on the floor. My clothes are still hung across my room using a piece of rope. I do have bowls and cups now so I’m no longer using measuring cups (sierra cup-style). I still not the nester I wish I was.

My rat problem is solved(ish). For six months, I battled rats. Nothing like a rat falling onto your head from the bathroom door in the middle of the night or waking to the sound of rats fighting next to your head (since your mattress is on the floor). What’s really upsetting is when you come home and find not one, not two, but three of your bananas with little rats holes in them! Why three? Why not just munch on the one?! But after duct taping the holes in my screens and waiting for the last of the rats to run out from under the six-inch gap under my front door, I am rat free for two weeks. Do they make chips for that?

School started in September. I teach Biology and Chemistry to Form 1, Form 2, and Form 3 students, roughly the equivalent of 7^th, 8^th, and 9^th grades in the US. I say roughly because my students' ages as well as their learning levels range widely. Some of my youngest students have difficulty reading and writing. I try to make my classes student-centered and hands-on, making learning fun rather than a chore but I never knew how hard that would be when you can’t just call up Carolina Biological for some nifty organisms. But we manage. My kids hold hands and act as an amoeba, developing pseudopodia and “ingesting” things like the flagpole or the Discipline Master’s motorcycle.

In my six months at post, I’ve traveled some. I've hiked here and there, catching fun as Cameroonians say. I’ve spent beautiful, cool evenings in Bamenda, the city closest to my post. I huffed and puffed up Mount Cameroon, the highest mountain in West Africa. I’ve relaxed on the beach in Limbe, eating fries for every meal. 

Hike through Mbingo in the Northwest

Waterfall in the Batibo area

Waterfall cave in Guzamg

I've spent some quality time with people in my village. I’ve experience the incredible kindness and generosity of those who don’t have much. I’m gifted food on a regular basis. People will ask me to grab a seat and take a beer with them just to chat. The village mamas teach me everything from cracking Njansa (a spice) to grinding pepe to plucking and dressing a chicken.

How am I emotionally? I’m actually starting to love my post. Don’t misunderstand that as everything is hunky dory. I have some really dark days where I’m sitting in the middle of the floor in a puddle of sweat and tears, but overall, I’m managing. So even though I find myself dreaming of biscuits and gravy, crunch wrap supremes, and Dr. Pepper, I know they’ll be there when I get back. Even though I find myself homesick and missing my family and friends, I know that will make our reunion that much sweeter. Even though transportation here is a nightmare, I know that will make my coach flight home that much more luxurious.

My Blog is Running on Cameroonian Time

I'm guessing you've figured it out by now, I'm not very good at keeping up with a blog... It doesn't help that to find internet in my house I have to twirl three times while saying the magic words and then do a headstand.

For now, here are some tasty morsels from training. Which ended in August... Better late than never!

Training in a nutshell: We "paid attention" to "interesting" and "informative" sessions. We broke into "collaborative" groups to "facilitate the exchange of ideas." Basically we did a lot of sitting and sighing. To be fair, I did learn a handful of things, one being that Peace Corps is so sure that we'll all contract schistosomiasis, a blood fluke found in freshwater they'll treat us all for it before we leave. So if I come home and find a tumor it's probably just a schisto cyst. Comforting, right? Oh, and I learned of the existence of mango flies. They lay eggs in clothing hung out to dry. The larvae then burrow into your skin where they'll grow until they eventually erupt Ridley Scott's, Alien-style.

A life lesson learned: If they mudfish tastes funny, stop eating it.

Spaghetti Omelet Sandwiches. Need I say more? Probably. You take spaghetti noodles, toss them in with eggs, tomato, onion, piment, fry it up in a omelet, then toss it in some french bread with some mayonnaise and voila! If you want to get a little creative (and I strongly suggest you do) add some avocado. Delicious.

Enjoying Spaghetti Omelet Sandwiches and cold(ish) beers

Swearing in Ceremony at the US Embassy

My Soul Sister

I’m sure every volunteer has hated on training. Seemingly pointless sessions, and repetition while you wait for your experience to “start.” Just wanting to be unleashed on the world so you can do what you came to do. Now a few months out of training, I find myself thinking back to those boring sessions with fond memories, not because of some content learned but because of the camaraderie that existed between 21 stagemates. The fellowship with those 20 other people is what I got out of training and I couldn’t wish for anything more.