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. 

I'm just going to leave this here...

Je ne comprends pas...

When the power is out and you're staring at each other in the dimming light, ça va only goes so far.

My host family is wonderful. They are kind. Generous. Funny. Concerned. Patient. There’s one issue… we don’t share the same language. They speak French and their local dialect, Bulu. I speak English and something that would resemble French if my mouth obeyed my head.

At first, I felt alienated. The task of living with a family without sharing a language seemed, not only daunting, but impossible. How in the world would I get to know them, learn from them? I also felt like a failure. This family graciously took in a Peace Corps trainee and in turn they got the faulty trainee who speaks the broken French. Someone they would have to attend to like a child that you’re scared will stick their finger in a socket.

But, I have been studious, spending the majority of my spare time learning and practicing my French. I eat with my dictionary, which we tend to pass around in conversation. We use hand signals, and though there are occasionally blank stares on both sides, we’re making do. I’m also learning a little of the local dialect. A few of my new phrases: (the spelling below is phonetic for me so don't quote me on this)

English                                                            Bulu

Hello                                                                mBolo (and many other variations)

How are you                                                    Nye ene move

I am fine                                                           Me ene move

What is your name                                           One jona sa

My name is…                                                  Me ne jona…

Thank you very much                                      Akeva abui

You’re welcome                                              Te ke ajo

I’m hungry                                                       Ma wok zaeye

Enjoy your meal                                               mBama zam

I am tired                                                          Me teeya

Goodnight                                                         mBama alu

On a very happy note, my family likes cats! There are three little kittens running around. While they are work cats, meant to be mouse and cockroach catchers, they're still cute and cuddly.

My first Cameroonian friend

So far, I’ve learned to bathe out of a bucket, get water from a well to wash dishes (also using buckets), how to wash my clothes (again, buckets), and how to keep a clean house in a muddy area. They have yet to let me close to the cooking process, but soon maybe. Small small catch monkey. 

I’m learning. And I’ve yet to stick my finger in a socket.

Bienvenue au Cameroon!

So this is my welcome to Cameroon post. I realize it’s coming a little late since yesterday marked my second week in Cameroon…

Here’s the quick and dirty of what I’ve been up to:

After two 8 hour flights separated by a sprint through the Brussels airport, we arrived in the regional capital, Yaoundé. We stayed in a hotel called the Felydac (running water, air conditioning, Wi-Fi) for two days of orientation.  The other guests at the hotel – the Lions D’espoir – the under 23 team that feeds into the Cameroonian National Team, Les Lions Indomptables!

While in Yaoundé, we had dinner at the Peace Corps Country Director’s house with none other than the US Ambassador to Cameroon, Michael S. Hoza. He’s very personable and down to earth. We talked about barbecue and the mustard vs. vinegar debate when he learned I was from South Carolina. Then, while speaking on the importance of education, he drops this big women’s empowerment speech and leaves the table! Talk about a mic drop.

After our 2 days in the capital, we hopped on a bus and headed for Ebolowa, the regional capital of the South. This is where I will be training for my first 10 weeks in country (8 more weeks to go!). We’re living in home stays which I will expand on at a later date. They deserve their own post.

That’s all for now folks!

Enjoy your pizza, peaches, and Chick-fi-la nuggets!

The view from the training center

No, I'm not in prison. Yet.

Two Years, Three Bags

Time flies when you haven't packed.

But now, thanks to my wonderful dad (he did more in 30 minutes than I was able to do in a week), my loving friends and family, and some good old fashioned hyperventilating, I'm packed, boarded, and ready as I can be for my upcoming journey.

My family and friends have been instrumental in my getting ready for this trip. Running errands, incredibly useful gifts, just watching me whirlwind through the house. Thank you all so much. With a smile on my face and tears in my eyes, I leave you for a short time. I will miss you terribly.

The Chronic-what-cles of Cameroon

I figure, my first real blog (definitely not counting my middle school Xanga) should accompany a huge step in my life, an experience both new and exhilarating. In just under nine weeks, I will be setting sail for Cameroon in Central Africa to work as a science teacher for the Peace Corps. I'd say that counts.

This blog is intended to serve as a record of my experience as a Peace Corps volunteer. I'm sure it will host many anecdotes, musings, photos, and more. In a later post, before I ship out, (while I still have fast, reliable internet at my fingertips) I'll outline a little more about Cameroon, my position as a science teacher, and my packing list.

For now, let's talk a little about the application process and how I got here.

*Carry on Wayward Son starts up* (Holla to all the Supernatural fans)

October 1990: Three hoots from the owl, a call of the coyote, just before midnight a babe is born. Only kidding. We won't go that far back.

March - June 2014: Here is where I really buckled down and got serious about pursuing the Peace Corps aka got my research on. I became very familiar with the Peace Corps website. I went to recruitment events and talked with recruiters over the phone and through emails (those pour souls). I sat in on webinars. I even completely changed what sector of the Peace Corps I was interested in. When I learned a little more about the new application and process, I decided to scrap my old application and start fresh.

September 2014: I finally finished the Motivation Statement I had been agonizing over and submitted my application by an "early bird" deadline. On the Assignment Selection Form I chose Education Anywhere assuming I would be placed in a science/biology teaching position, all of which were in Africa.

One week later: I get an email saying that I was being considered for Secondary Science Education in Cameroon. I was a little shell shocked. I hadn't looked into the Cameroon program because the leave date was May 25, much earlier than I anticipated. A few days later, I received the Interview Request email from Placement.

Mid-October: Interview with Placement. My interview lasted between 1.5-2 hours. It was fairly easygoing. The interviewer wasn't trying to stump me or make me pee my pants (I'd downed about a pot of coffee beforehand so my bladder issues were my own doing). Having googled "Peace Corps interview questions" ahead of time helped ease my nerves since I had an idea of the kinds of questions to expect.

Then, the waiting. And waiting. Add a little fretting over whether or not I answered the questions to the best of my ability. Stir in some self-doubt and voila!

November 18: The Big Day! After casually refreshing my email, my heart stopped when I saw a new email with the subject line, "Peace Corps - Invitation!" There was some shouting and hugs all around (I was at work when I received the news). Needless to say, the rest of my day was shot. I was floating around on cloud nine, more in the way than anything else.

I did take a couple of days to accept. I never had any intention of rejecting the offer. I just wanted to read the materials, to love/cry on my precious kitty, and to accept that this is really happening. I leave in May. I will be spending 27 months of my life in Cameroon, a place I've neither been nor paid much attention to until now if we're being completely honest. I'll be turning 27 when I return. My grandmother informed me that I would be an old maid schoolteacher. I'll make sure that title is on my business cards.

The aforementioned precious kitty

So where am I now? Working and living in Spartanburg, South Carolina. I've completed my paperwork. I'm good to go medically. Now, general preparations. Reading everything I can find about Cameroon. Practicing my French (I don't think my farm animal knowledge and my ability to sing "Old MacDonald" will cut it). And downloading ebook after ebook and countless podcasts to last me two years.

If I've kept your attention this long, bless your heart and welcome to the journey! 

Cheers!