"things are looking up for old liz lemon"

Two pieces of great news!

First, I found a house! I'll move in December, when another volunteer(s?) will move into my current house, and take on all the transit house responsibilities. I'll miss this wireless internet and hot showers... it's like i'm leaving the first world all over again. Though, at least the world I'm moving to has a yard for honey, a modern bath and a kitchen sink. (At first I typed modern kitchen, but realized that would give Americans an entirely wrong impression). It's the right size too, and while further from town than I had hoped, it's in a safe little concession, and I'm excited to be moving there.

Secondly, the funding for the Adamaoua Girls' Scholarship finally arrived. The scholarship was started (and mostly funded this year) by two American women, Anne C. and Anne R. You can read more or donate for next year here: http://www.a2empowerment.org/ It was a pretty complicated process getting the money here, and I'm glad it's finally going to the intended use--providing school fees, uniforms, and books to 25 rural Adamaoua girls to attend high school.

saro--pagne's brother

In my post about pagne*, I failed to mention saro. Saro** is the other type of fabric popular here. Unlike pagne, it is always a solid color. There is a design woven into the fabric, but this is very subtle since it's all the same color thread. Saro has a shinny, waxy look until it's been washed.

The traditional man's outfit in the north of Cameroon is the boubou--it's basically a loose, knee length shirt over drawstring pants. The whole ensemble is made of the same fabric, and finished off with embroidery on the front of the shirt, around the collar and cuffs.

Cameroonians prefer colorful saros--either bright colors, or pale pastels, but rarely neutrals. Blue is the most common boubou color, but I've seen every color except black.

Women can wear saro too--as long as there's plenty of embroidery to keep it expressive. Women usually have long sleeve, loose fitting tops and matching ankle length wrap skirts.

Check the slide-show for some things I've made on my pedal sewing machine out of saro. The pink and white dresses were from patterns my mom sent me. Both yellow projects I designed myself.


*I've added a picture to that old post, if you're interested in a sampling of pagne designs. More pictures of finished pagne garments to come.

**Saro is my imagined spelling (say sorrow, as in sadness) since I haven't been able to find reference to this name on the internet. Websites seem to call this fabric brocade or basin fabric, but when I asked the market vendors where I could buy boubou fabric, they told me i was looking for saro.

ca fait longtemps

I don't have any excuse for how long I've neglected this blog. Not that I haven't been thinking of you all, my readers. I did write an entry about two months ago that I never got around to posting. My apologies.

Catching Up:

My (tiny) teacher training course that lasted all summer is on hold for now. We used openoffice for the entire course, which worked well for learning the basics of Writer (Word) and Calc (Excel). Beyond that, my students want to learn basic desktop publishing (making business cards, invitations...) and we've found openoffice just doesn't cut it. So, we are waiting until we get Publisher, and can complete the class. The photos for this post are all from Mbideng.

The group I started with back in April at the CPFF (center for women and families) has finished the course! They are already settling in at their internship positions in the local government offices, and we will have a graduation ceremony in the first week of November.

As both these classes wrap up, all my students hard work shines through. Both groups have progressed so far, and I'm extremely glad I made the job switch and get to work with my f a n t a s t i c new-ish counterpart.


The Near Future:

So I have a bit of down time until my classes start up again. I've been doing a lot of sewing lately, and think I'll be taking advantage of this huge excess of spare time to compete some projects and start others.

Otherwise, I'm searching for a new house at post to move into in December. I need a place with a yard, since Honey will be coming too. I would l o v e to go back to my original house (even though they've since built a two story building in the front yard) but I doubt that will happen. So, I've been asking around for studios. Though I think I'm going to rethink that strategy--I've seen some pretty dismal rooms. House hunting is very different here--there are no listings (online or in print) and you have to specify electricity, running water, and modern toilet. People keep telling me they have a place to show me and then the toilet is a hole in the ground. One guy said his place had running water, but really there was one spicket serving the concession (group of buildings).

For a while I wasn't sure I would come home before my close of service (early June of next year), but my family has made an extraordinarily generous offer to buy me a plane ticket home. I will be in Portland for a spell around Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, so many of the people I love will still be far away (unless they decide it'd be a good time to visit Portland***).



So, especially with extra time on my hands, I will renew my promise to update at least once a week.

***No one in their right mind thinks late November is a good time to visit Portland.

since last monday (update)

A week and a half ago, I taught my first class at the women’s center. My French came out surprisingly steadily. I felt accomplished afterwards, though the success of the class was due to the students: the adults were genuinely interested in the material, and asked questions showing they had thought things through. Since they are motivated, they have the patience to piece together my improvised explanations. Unless someone is patient enough to work through the linguistic puzzles I create, it’s just not worth the breath to speak French at them. It is however, far from my true niche, since I have yet to find a way to teach a class without being the center of attention.

Alternately, I felt pretty confident in my French communication skills after my meeting to break the news at school. I went into my counterpart’s office and explained that I was disappointed with my work over the past year, and that I had found another job. I pointed out that at the women’s center I would be able to teach a practical course. He said that the school was not disappointed, and that he thought I had done a fine job. He then said he suspected I preferred the women’s center since I will be teaching all women, adults, and not struggle with discipline. Officially, I am motivated to make this change because the lycée relegated me to theory-only classes. However, he correctly surmised that is not the sole reason. Binary doesn’t frustrate me to tears, where as discipline problems have proven perfectly capable of ruining my whole day.

For the time being, I am observing the afternoon class at the CPFF (last Monday I substituted) and filling out the rest of the paperwork at school. This past week my troisieme, premier, and teminale students took their exams, and yesterday my quatrieme classes did. I plan to have the tests marked and the grades turned in before heading to Yaoundé for the Education Steering Committee meeting. I am really looking forward to a short vacation from Ngaoundéré. I grow increasingly annoyed by the harassment white skin attracts, and feel more ready to confront the harassment Yaoundé offers. Somehow, it’s less grating if it’s not happening on the same block I live on.

tuesday: quiche à la camp stove

A conventional oven is a high ticket item here, so we Peace Corps volunteers have embraced an alternative baking method of which our camp stoves are capable. Along with the gas stove, you need a huge pot (marmite) which serves as the oven space. We place the marmite on the gas burner, and add a few empty cans. The cans are basically the grate in your oven at home: they lift the dish so that it’s surrounded by hot air, instead of being placed directly on the heat source. You can see this configuration in the picture above, except throughout cooking the lid covers the marmite.

This recipe is once again based on Chop Fayner. For the quiche, you will need:

Crust:
1 ½ cups flour
½ cup chilled butter
3 T cold water
½ t salt

Filling:
3 American-size eggs
½ to 1 cup grated cheese (or five slices vache qui rit and three or more slices vache cheddar)
1 scant cup milk
1 small onion, chopped
1 tomato, chopped
1 green pepper, chopped
Handful of mushrooms, chopped
Salt, pepper, basil, paprika

If you make this recipe in a fancy conventional oven, preheat it to 350° F (180° C). Otherwise, just light the stove and let the marmite air warm up.

Start the crust by combining the flour and salt. Add the butter, breaking it up with a fork. Once the butter is well distributed, add the cold water by the tablespoon. Once the mixture can hold a ball shape, you’ve added enough water. Chill the dough for half an hour to an hour. To chill, I just placed a wet cloth over the bowl in lieu of a refrigerator. Roll the dough out on a floured surface with a floured rolling pin (or a wine bottle), then lay the dough in your well-greased baking dish.

In a mixing bowl, beat the eggs with the milk and spices. Place the vegetables into the uncooked crust, and spread the cheese over them. Pour the egg mixture over the veggies and cheese. Bake 30 minutes to an hour. The top will turn golden brown, and a knife stuck in the center will come out clean.

It took an hour to bake my quiche, I believe because my oven did not reach to 350°. As always, cooking with vache qui rit requires generous spices, since it’s so bland. Vache cheddar can really improve this recipe, so get it if you can. Also, even though Cameroonians seem to insist on refrigerating the vache cheddar, it does not say “keep refrigerated” on the package. I have bravely risked stomach discomfort to tell you that the vache cheddar can be kept on a shelf without refrigeration for weeks, and consumed safely. For those reading in America, vache cheddar resembles Kraft American Singles in taste, texture and packaging. And yes, this is considered a fancy cheese.

pagne

Pagne refers to the colorful, patterned, fabric everyone wears here. I believe it is based on the original cultural dress, but it is now manufactured en masse. It is sold pre-cut to six yards. I cannot explain why all fabric is sold in yards, but tailors measure you in centimeters.

To have an outfit made of pagne, and therefore look well integrated, you first go to the market and pick a pagne design. There are plusieurs choices, and I could spend all day at the market admiring them (though there are the appallingly tacky choices). Once you’ve chosen your pattern, you bargain for the price. There are many qualities of pagne, and the prices reflect that. They range from 4,000 cfa (eight dollars) to 20,000 cfa (forty dollars) or even more. If I ever fell in love with a fabric I would consider paying up to 10,000 cfa, but so far I have stuck between 5,000 and 7,000.

Once you’ve bargained the price, you take the pagne to a tailor. The tailor’s shop usually has poster collages of Cameroonian fashion, and you can point to a style you like. Then the tailor measures you, and you schedule a time to pick up the finished product. Once you come back, you try it on to check if adjustments are needed. Then you pay and take your garment home.

Cameroonians favor big sleeves (the poofy and the long-flowy are very popular styles), and decorative necklines. Americans tend to prefer their sleeves more subdued, (especially when the fabric is already so expressive!) However, since the tailors never write down anything but your measurements, they seem to often forget the request for something boring. This, and their artistic pride, often leads to a garment nothing like you pictured. It takes some time to find a tailor who will embrace our dull fashion sense, and make quality pieces.

I bought a sewing machine and have experimented with my own seamstress abilities. I’m just as good as a mediocre tailor here, and I like controlling the project. The best part of sewing with pagne is choosing how to incorporate the pattern into the overall design.

One way people celebrate here is to buy the pagne manufactured for a specific holiday. While festive, this pagne usually is not the prettiest, in my eyes. It often consists of a poorly chosen background color, and a series of drawings depicting the holiday’s theme. The drawings are splashed around the pagne with no real structure, and bear an uncanny resemblance to clip-art. Special pagne is manufactured for annual holidays: Women’s Day, Mother’s Day, Teacher’s Day, Rural Women’s Day; to celebrate unique occasions: the pope’s recent visit; and to celebrate certain people: the Virgin Mary, President Paul Biya, and Francoise Mbango Etone (who won Cameroon Olympic Gold: http://sports.yahoo.com/olympics/beijing/blog/fourth_place_medal/post/Francoise-Mbango-Etone-Cameroon-s-indomitable-l?urn=oly,101257). I’d say a head-to-toe ensemble of Olympian pagne is a pretty outspoken souvenir.

friday is laundry day

In Peace Corps, we have the same weekly chores as we did in America, but none of the modern conveniences. Therefore, around once a week, I carry my clothes and a couple buckets to my outdoor sink and soap up. I start by soaking them in a detergent (I use the brand Blu). I swish them around in the water for a minute, then pull each piece out and wash them by hand. Hand washing means rubbing a lard soap into the tough spots, then forcefully pushing the cloth down your forearm. The work of laundry is mostly wringing out the soapy water to eventually rinse clothes clean. I usually use two rinse buckets, refilling them periodically to clear the water. After a few rinses and a final wringing, I hang the clothes on the line to dry. This process is rough, and some of my clothes have started to show wear from it. During dry season everything dried fast, but now I have to time laundry day to coincide with a sun break.

I actually think of laundry as a more enjoyable chore here, even though in the developed world it’s hardly as much work. I bring my ipod and speakers out with me. I wear my swimsuit and sunscreen and “play” in the water. (I only get away with this because my backyard is walled in). It’s time consuming, but no one in Africa is ever in a hurry. Once finished, I feel much more accomplished than I ever felt after loading a machine and pushing the buttons.

congé de pâques: rainy season

The rainy season arrived to Ngaoundéré last week when I was out of town. By the time it rained again, I was back home, and never so pleased by the weather. Typically in rainy season, we have cold mornings which melt into hot noon-times. It actually gets hotter than it would in dry season, until the sky opens up and lets down a short shower. It doesn’t seem to rain long in the Adamaoua, but the downpour can be strong. Once it rains the wind will blow through my house and the air feels much nicer. Yesterday I just stood in the doorway as the cool air billowed through.

The other benefit of rain, is that the dust that’s floated in the air for months, is replaced by humidity. Ngaoundéré is relatively tame as dust goes, since the main street I live on is paved.

We are now one week through our two-week Easter break, and I’m really enjoying the time off. I don’t work very hard at school, especially since I’ve found a way to leave next year. (I’ve tried to tell myself to just get through the year without slacking off, but the whole charade feels purposeless and I struggle to find my work ethic). Still, every teaching day is absorbed by the teaching. Even Mondays, when I only teach one class for two periods—if I have afternoon class, I dread it all day, and can’t start anything else since I’ll be interrupted. If I have morning classes, I spend most of the afternoon and evening recovering. So even though I teach only eleven hours and don’t spend much time lesson planning, I am exhausted by it and have not progressed much on projects outside the lycée. However, next week I will be scheduling a teachers training for a primary school in an outer neighborhood, and hope to establish a tentative schedule at the women’s center.

We finished presenting new material before the break. After break we will review for three weeks, and then I’ll give my final exam for the year. Once the students are done with school final exams, the troisième, première and terminale take the national exams. I do not envy them, and I will be so glad to power through the last round of grading and close lycée for good. So the next two months will be a mélange of finishing with lycée and planning real work for the summer.

mango season!

One of the perks of living in Cameroon, so close to the equator, is the tropical fruit. Pineapples have been coming up in a steady stream from the southern jungle since I arrived at post, but it's been a while since I'd eaten a mango. That changed yesterday, when I bought two at the market (for 50 cfa each, the equivalent of 10 cents).

Since being in country, I've become adept at eating the juicy fruit. I've also discovered that we Caucasians typically are allergic to a chemical in the peels. Therefore, the main goal of my method is to avoid touching the peel, or else my lips swell. Even if I diligently avoid the peel, but over-indulge on too many mangos, my lip tingles for a while, but it's always worth it.

So here's how to eat a mango: Slice as thick a slice as possible along the flat side of the seed. Cut a grid into the slice, then invert the slice so the squares poke out. Eat the juicy squares, then repeat on the other side of the seed. Now you have a seed, surrounded by lots of good mango-meat and a strip of peel. Cut the remaining peel off by drawing a knife around the fruit: at this point, your hands get sticky. Eat the rest of the mango directly off the seed. Now wash your face, because it's probably obvious you just enjoyed a mango.

I ate my mango with some oatmeal this morning. I know the oatmeal doesn't look too great next to the colorful fruit, but it's an essential part of this Sunday breakfast.

boukarou barbecue one saturday

Sam hired one of her villagers to build a boukarou (Cameroonian gazebo) in her front yard. A couple weekends ago, Sebastian and Allen were both in town, so we decided it was the best time to inaugurate the boukarou's mud-brick barbecue. Sam's village is about four kilometer's from my house, so we bought all the fixings and moto-ed out to her house.

We made cheeseburgers, with many of the same fixings as our New Year's Dinner. We made the patties small but thick, so that they wouldn't fall through the grate/grill. I think we've perfected the burger PC-style, except for one thing: slices of baguette just don't pass for buns in my book. Sam generously donated a cake mix and frosting, so we ate a delicious desert afterwords. I think I alone ate a fourth of the cake.

The villager built the boukarou all on his own, and the center pole isn't even touching the ceiling (they added it as a hammock support). I'd like to see the one-man process of assembling and lifting the roof into place sometime.

In the photos, you'll see Yousef (the sole Cameroonian present this time) and Josh, a friend of another volunteer who was traveling through, as well as Sam, Sebastian, Allen, and I. Buddy (Allen's puppy) came too, but Honey had to stay home with a hurt ankle. This was a few weeks ago, and she's better now.

It was wonderful, relaxing afternoon outside, and I look forward to more barbecues to come.

pesto on tuesday

Feeding myself takes more far more energy here than it ever did as a college student (or as a kid growing up: thanks mom and dad!) Without a fridge, I have to go to the market a couple times a week to get fresh ingredients. Without many of the pre-made jars and mixes I used in the states, I cook from scratch. My cooking skills have improved, since I’m forced to work with what’s available, and I have time to experiment. I have to plan and prepare each meal, and I therefore can usually rattle of the last week’s meals. (In the states, I used to forget what I had for dinner by breakfast the next day.) Because cooking takes up so much of my time and energy, and I’m enjoying learning how, I’d like to start sharing some of the recipes.

Today I loosely followed a recipe from the Peace Corps Cameroon cook book, Chop Fayner (pidgin for “eat well”), to make pesto. What I ended up with passes for pesto, but I was missing a couple ingredients, which I think would’ve greatly improved it. The recipe calls for a blender (ha, Chop Fayner, you kid) but I finely chopped and ground everything instead. I think I would actually recommend this archaic method over having to clean all the blender pieces and sharp blades.

So, here’s the recipe I modified from Chop Fayner:

1 cup fresh basil, chopped (500 cfa worth)
¼ cup olive oil (available at a supermarché in your regional capitol)
¼ cup grated parmesan cheese (thanks Mom for that package!)
4 cloves garlic
¼ cup crushed pine nuts (thanks Stephanie!)
Generous pinch of dried parsley
3 tablespoons melted butter*
Salt to taste

Chop the basil and garlic finely. Crush the pine nuts (this was easy because they are a soft nut). Combine everything, and toss with warm pasta. Yum! *When I first made the pesto, I did not bother going out to buy butter. I ate the second half for dinner, but this time bought some butter on the way back from a walk with Honey. It was better with the butter, but still tasted leafy, like the basil was taking over.

I think I’ll be trying again soon, since I still have pine nuts leftover. I’d like to perfect the recipe.

to visit, or to be visited

Since school is rough, I started planning a trip home for June. The school year ends with May, and June 7th will be my first anniversary in country. Northwest weather is best in the summer. The appeal of a trip to the states was to taste all I've been missing: see family and friends, eat sushi and strawberries, windsurf and sail, go hiking in the gorge, and communicate in my native language.

However, I'm suddenly reinvigorated about life in Cameroon, because of my upcoming job switch. If I leave in June for the land of plenty, I'll lose the new wave of motivation and energy I have for work here. Instead, I hope to start working at the Women's Center in June. Maybe by the time summer tourism ends and flight prices go down, I'll be ready for a visit.

If you'd like to see me before then, please consider a visit here! I hope to visit all ten regions of Cameroon before leaving, and would love to do some of the touristy things with you (climb Mt. Cameroon, safari with elephants and girafes, visit the jungle and coast...) My post is a relatively luxurious city, but we can visit villages too. You have to get some shots to come here, but, you won't have to hire a travel agent or an interpreter!

Moving On

Once we returned from Christmas break, I’d been in Cameroon for seven months. I was feeling discouraged about my life and work here. I have detailed some of the challenges at my lycee before: class sizes of 60-90 students, having eleven total classes and seeing each once every two weeks, teaching only computer theory and no practical classes, the list goes on. These problems have continued, and I’m sure would continue through my next year of service, if I hadn’t decided to leave.

Let’s back up for a minute: In mid February, I traveled to Yaoundé to participate in the Education Program’s Steering Committee. I thought the meeting went well: we discussed ways for volunteers to share resources, debated the kind of work education volunteers should be involved in, and made some delicious quiche. In one of the meetings I mentioned that I can’t take on much as far as secondary projects, not because I teach too many hours, but because I just have too many students. I added it up: I’m expected to evaluate about seven hundred and thirty children every sequence. A sequence is six weeks, which means I see them a total of three times, including a test. (I’ve actually started scheduling my tests outside class. They’re used to having to come to school on Saturday morning, but losing my weekend makes the following week pretty rough.) Our boss, in charge of the education program, said he knows I’m stuck teaching theory, and then said that he thinks they’ll have to close the post if the school doesn’t need a practical, computer literacy teacher. He added, after I leave, of course.

So I came back to Ngaoundéré with all my dissatisfactions validated. Peace Corps requires our bosses to come visit us at post once a year: my visit was coming up soon after the meeting. I knew I was unhappy at lycee, and once my boss said he’d close the post, I knew he’d be open to the idea of my leaving. So, I started brainstorming options. The most obvious alternative is to work as a lab monitor at my current lycee. However, I’ve realized why I’m not working there already: they don’t need me. The lab is fully staffed with capable Cameroonians. I thought about the Centre Socio Menager, where I’ve been teaching one hour a week. I like the principal there, the class size, and the all-practical course. I considered the bilingual school: I hear they have a nice computer lab, but I was worried I’d encounter the same problems again. Michelle told me about the Centre de Promotion des Femmes (Center to Promote Women), and that they teach computer classes there. We went to investigate.

They teach a computer training course to adults (the class I observed had two men out of a dozen students). The lab holds fifteen or twenty computers, of varying ages. I met the two men who currently teach the classes: Yannick and Eduard. I explained that I am busy at the lycee for now, but I was researching options for the summer. I didn’t want to commit to anything yet, and feel that since the school year is practically over, I’d rather finish it. By visit’s end, I’m sold. These men are nice, professional, and excited to work with me. The facility is great for Cameroon, and the class’s focus is perfect: the two month course to prepare students for a career as a secretary.

So, for my site visit, I introduced my boss to the Centre de Promotion des Femmes (CPFF). I think he was impressed by Yannick and Eduard: he said he rarely meets such young, motivated Cameroonians. On a broad level, Peace Corps Cameroon Education is trying to move away from lycee teaching, and into teacher training programs. We think this is a much more sustainable form of development. He said I should finish the year at lycee, but that working at the CPFF is the kind of development Peace Corps wants to be involved in.

Now that I know next year will be different, I feel capable of finishing the school year. The last remaining hurtle is leaving. Everyone knows the typical Peace Corps service lasts two years. I don’t want my school to be offended that I decided not to finish. However, I think I can explain my reasons to the handful of people who’ve become my friends. Especially to my counterpart, who has proved to be a supportive friend through my struggles. Since I’ll still be in Ngaoundéré, I’ll still maintain the friendships.

I feel pretty lucky to live in a city here. Sometimes I regret not having a village experience, but in village I would not have had so many alternatives to lycee work. So, once again, I’m excited to be in Ngaoundéré and motivated to make the best of my short opportunity here.

Meet Honey

I got a puppy! Her name is Honey; her name fits her coloring, and is also a principal product of the Adamaoua. Allen found her in Meiganga for me. She had a bad case of fleas, and what I'm pretty sure is a tapeworm. She got a flea bath and a shot for the worm when she first arrived, but the tapeworm shows no signs of leaving (hence her nickname, Worm-butt). So I'm still in the process of getting her healthy.

When I first decided I wanted a dog, I figured I would have to cook for it. Stacy had a dog, and she would feed it leftovers from a restaurant around the corner. I bought a bag of dog food in Yaoundé, and Allen noticed one of the Ngaoundéré supermarchés selling it. So I decided I might have an easier time feeding her dog food: the long shelf life and nutritionally balanced meals appealed to me. The other day, her bag from Yaoundé was running low, so I went to buy some at the “secret oatmeal” supermarché. They were out, and said they weren’t sure when they’d get another shipment. I might have to wait a week, or two weeks, or longer: it just depends what comes in on the ships. So I’m left figuring out each meal for the dog. She loves eggs, and sometimes I buy her beans and beignets in the evenings.

I’m still house training her. It’s difficult, because I don’t want to be too mad at her for a natural thing like relieving herself. Also, her signal for “I need to go out” is indistinguishable from “Feed me,” and “Play with me!”

A puppy is a lot of work, and she has so much energy! But she’s cute and fun, and always happy to see me.

Conges de Noel: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

I got to travel to Garoua, capitol of the north province, to celebrate Christmas with some fellow PCVs. We made some delicious food, and also enjoyed some treats that volunteers who recently traveled to the states brought back. We had the Christmas party at Stephanie’s house. Stephanie’s house is actually a room in the back of an école maternelle. So, we sat on preschooler-sized chairs to eat our sugary delights. Our Christmas tree was a brown paper cut out taped to the wall, with ornaments fashioned out of the same brown paper. They also had a white elephant gift exchange (yaannnkee swap!) but I didn’t participate. Some examples of things PC Cameroon volunteers give each other: whiskey sachets, soup packets, toothpaste, and flower pots. After Christmas, we got right back on the bush taxi and headed home to the Adamaoua. It made for a lot of traveling in a short time, and I was glad to finally be home.

For new years, we ate an American meal: cheeseburgers, beer batter onion rings, and green beans. Everything is a close approximation of what it should be. Baguettes stood in for cheeseburger buns. The beef here tastes different and cooks to a lighter shade. Processed cheese is the easiest cheese to find, so they look and taste like slices of Kraft American. The beers are not great, but made some delicious beer-batter onion rings. We had the green beans sautéed with garlic and onion. We could hear the band across the street at the Plaza restaurant, but decided to stay home and watch a movie. Midnight came, we heard some fireworks, and went to bed. Bonne et Heureuse 2009!

Conges de Noel: Chutes de Kribi

Most of us stayed on extra time, enjoying the beach. Since we had all of Friday to spend as we pleased, we slept in after breakfast. Allen and I headed to the waterfalls by taking a moto part way, then walking along the beach the rest. We stopped at a hotel we had heard of from other volunteers (Tara Plage) and ate lunch. A few more of our stage-mates met us there, and we kept walking along the beach to find the waterfalls. The Chute de Kribi falls directly into the ocean. They are not as tall as waterfalls I’m used to seeing in the gorge, but were beautiful nonetheless. I didn’t take my camera that day, to avoid losing it, but regret that decision now. I swam in the water past the falls, and didn’t realize the current’s strength until I tried to swim against it. I made no progress, so I swam into shore instead of trying to approach the falls by water. We didn’t actually spend much time at the falls, but started walking back towards our hotel. A man on the beach offered to make us dinner. He set up a table on the beach with fresh flowers, and made us grilled fish. Nick asked him about one of the trees nearby and its fruit. He called it a breadfruit, and offered to cook us some to go with the fish. Fried, it tasted just like French fries. We left Kribi at six the next morning, intending to visit the supermarkets in Yaoundé before boarding the night train north.

The train station “lost” a couple of our reservations for sleeping cars. I have taken five train rides, and on two trips we have had trouble with the reservations. I’ve started to think of them less as a reservation, and more of a statement of potential interest. The train is scheduled to leave at six thirty every evening. This trip we left three hours late.

Conges de Noel: In Service Training

The conference was hosted at our hotel, Hotel le Paradise. All of the volunteers from my training class were there, as well as the Cameroonians they invited as counterparts. I felt the conference was more useful for the counterparts, who only stayed two days. The next two days were more casual sessions for just us volunteers. We heard presentations about the various committees (diversity, environmental education, education/small enterprise steering committees, HIV/gender and youth development).

After the conference each day we would go jump in the waves, eat dinner, and hang out on the beach. Occasionally, young men approached us carrying artisan objects for sale. All the artisan’s throughout the country have the same wares. Whenever I’ve asked who made them, they claim authorship. I’ve yet to believe one of them. That Friday, we had breakfast and the conference was over.

Conges de Noel: Au Plage

On this trip to Kribi, we are five and therefore able to take the entire back row to ourselves. It’s more comfortable emotionally to be stuffed next to your friends, but physically, not much better. We are all a healthy weight, so it is better than being five to a row including two Mamas.

When we arrived at the hotel, we left our things in a room and headed straight to the water. We bobbed in the waves, giddy that we were on vacation. Eventually we walked down the shoreline, climbing the occasional rock grouping and watching the patterns the waves make on the sand.
Life here is so challenging, especially our experiences over the first semester at school. I felt I had earned this vacation, much more so than any other I’ve taken. Kribians are used to catering to foreign tourists.

Eating out in Kribi was like being back in America. I should qualify that statement by reminding you that I’ve not been to a developed place in six months. If I had visited Kribi fresh off the plane, it probably would not have dazzled me. However, the wait staff shows up to take your order immediately. They’ll probably even write it down. That means your pizza arrives without olives as requested. When we ordered pizza, it came after twenty five minutes! I’ve become so accustomed to patiently waiting. I usually have to start thinking about a meal long before I actually want to eat. But in Kribi, food came within an hour.

Here’s an example of a delicious meal in Kribi: fresh fish caught by men in dugout canoes on the ocean. We had grilled bass. The fish is served whole, with accompaniments such as mayonnaise, sliced raw onion, and spicy sauce. You pull off chunks of fish with your fingers. Cameroonians eat the whole thing: bones and eyeballs as well as the flesh. I eat the skin, but pick out the bones and leave the head intact. We had fried plantains and French fries as a side.

Conges de Noel: A bush-taxi Ride

We left Ngaoundéré on December 11, riding the train overnight to Yaoundé. I needed some forms signed and turned in, so I spent Friday running around the administration office. Many of my stage-mates were already congregating in Yaoundé, and that was the beginning of our week long reunion. Michelle, Sebastian, Austin, Allen and I headed to the beach in the morning. The bush taxi ride was incredibly smooth, because the road between Kribi and Yaoundé is paved.

The bush taxi is an adventure in itself. They use any number of van types for public transit: ranging from small “prison buses,” a term invented and used by volunteers, to huge thirty passenger vans. By thirty passengers, I mean the bus has 30 seats. As a rule Cameroonians cram at least five people into the four person rows, so it’s more likely to be a thirty passenger van with forty-five passengers. Children get discounted rates, so they have to sit on relative’s lap. This means a row might approach nine occupants. Of course the luggage isn’t expected to fit in the car with all those passengers sardined together. Our backpacks, suitcases, disassembled beds, live goats and chickens, armoires, and mattresses stack up on top of the car, wrapped in a tarp and strapped down. Usually volunteers hope for a window seat, but that can backfire when the goat up top relieves himself. In the same spirit of taking everything in one trip, I believe a resourceful Cameroonian could transport an entire living room’s furniture in one motorcycle ride.

new format

Now that I have internet at home, I think I will be able to maintain a blog about my experiences here. So, I’ve posted my previous emails as the first blog entries, and will be updating periodically through this blog.

New house, Another school

21 November 2008

Well I moved at the beginning of November as planned, and Stacy left last Thursday. The case is a bit more comfortable with my furniture here, but a whole lot less fun without Stacy.

The new stage is currently in training in the north province. My stage was for the education and small business development programs, while this stage is for agro-forestry and health volunteers. They are being trained in the north, because all of the agros will be posted throughout the north and extreme north. I met the four newbies, all health, who will be coming to the Adamaoua. They passed through on site visit: Anna, Allison, and a married couple, Jessie and Brian. They all seemed chill and like great additions to our little provincial family.

Let me introduce you to our provincial family, which includes people from my stage: Gloria, Lindsey, Lee, Sebastian, Allen and I (educations) and Michelle (small enterprise). Our volunteers from the last health/agro stage just celebrated their first year in country: Sam, Bobby, Elena, Brandi (agros), and Ali (health). We’re about to lose four health volunteers, freeing their posts for the new kids I already mentioned: Kelly, Casey, Alana, and Nadia. Finishing your two year commitment to peace corps is called c.o.s-ing, short for "close of service."

Between volunteers traveling through to help with stage, others headed north on vacation, the steady trickle of c.o.s-ers, and my province-mates coming into the big city for banking/shopping/internet, my house has been very busy. This evening is the first night I’ve had it to myself. Next week being thanksgiving, it will be full again soon enough, but most likely it will just be Adamaoua people. I enjoy having my province- and stage-mates visit more than other random volunteers for two reasons. First, they are my friends. Second, they treat my house as if it's my house, while others tend treat it like a transit house. I don't mind that attitude in their bedrooms, but it's unpleasant in the kitchen. No one is inconsiderate on purpose, but I’m still adjusting to life as a bed and breakfast manager. One problem the plumber already fixed—the communal toilet was clogged, so everyone was helping themselves to my bathroom. Not that I begrudge them the need of a toilet, but I’m very glad to have some personal space back.

Dance class is growing on me. At first it wasn't very much fun, as I was uncomfortable and didn't know any dances. Now I’ve learned a bit, and I feel like the people are becoming my friends. It’s still hard to motivate myself to go to dance class, but once I get there I really enjoy it. We are preparing for our end of the year party/recital on December sixth. I also found out there's a dance club at the lycée, which I plan to check out. I’d like to meet the teacher who organizes it, since I still have no friends among my colleagues.

I am coordinator of the computer club au lycée, which has started slowly. I did not plan to have a club d'informatique, but students who were members last year approached me about it. I haven't been very enthusiastic about it, nor have I planned anything for them. But they have stepped up to the plate, and made a list of objectifs for the year. I was impressed with their list, and am starting to look forward to working with them.

I’ve started teaching an hour of informatique at another school on Wednesday. The girls at the centre de socio menager are around the ages of my lycée students, but their classes are on how to manage a home. Basically their core curriculum is home ec, as far as I can tell. I've taught two Wednesdays so far. Next Wednesday, I will start teaching them an hour-long English class after my info class. The good things at the centre are the drawbacks to working at the lycée, and vice versa. For instance, at the centre this past Wednesday, I helped six girls make calculations in excel (on the centre's two working computers). At the centre, my class size is manageable, and I can work on practical lessons. The opposite is true au lycée: huge classes, where we only talk about computer theory. However, the lycée students are smarter, in the sense of a formal education. There's a reason these girls are at home ec school—they either didn't do well at a "real" lycée, and/or their families place no value on the kind of female education that leads to university. The English class will be beginner conversations. I’ve had many children tell me "good morning, sir" at three o'clock in the afternoon. This will be my first lesson: "good afternoon, ma'am."

Speaking of female education, Michelle and I have officially taken over a scholarship project Stacy had been in charge of. The Adamaoua girl's scholarship project started at least a year ago. This year seventeen girls (selected by volunteers throughout the province) had their school tuition and national exam fees paid. They even got textbooks through the scholarship—a real rarity here. The volunteers held a seminar in September for the recipients, and there will be another seminar in December. Unfortunately, Michelle and I will not be here for the second conference, but we get to plan it with Ali's help.

We won't be in Ngaoundéré that week because we will be in Kribi—the beach resort in the south province. We have in-service-training there, but it's also an expense paid trip to the beach. It’s weird to think that at in-service-training, I’ll have already finished one of my four semesters. I do not feel at all experienced or comfortable teaching yet.

I’ve been neglecting biking lately, but I’ve climbed Mount Ngaoundéré twice: last Sunday and the Sunday before that. Not quite a mountain, it only takes around 45 minutes to climb, but it offers a great view of the city and the surrounding countryside.

developments at school and home

7 October 2008

I have plenty of news, and I think I’ll start with school, since I’ve neglected it thus far:

Our trainer from Peace Corps explained the computer education situation in Cameroon as follows: they told the government they needed computers in schools. The government did not provide computers. They waited a few years, and finally decided to have I.T. theory classes, in preparation of when computers become widely available. Most schools are still waiting. Sometimes outside organizations or benefactors provide small labs.

My school is one of the lucky ones: Lycée Classique et Moderne de Ngaoudéré received 60 computers, and all the accessories, of a modern lab.

But, the national syllabus is written for schools without labs. So the content I’m expected to cover is not applied in their lab time, and while it relates to computers, isn't what I would call the most useful information.

Now, Peace Corps offered me a position teaching computers because i know about using them. But I’m not teaching how to use them. My job is all theory, in the classroom, not the lab. I can request lab time, and if it fits the schedule, we can have a practical class. Otherwise the students get to use the lab every other week for two hours. There are lab monitors, who lead some activities; best I can tell they use a lot of Encarta encyclopedia.

So, I’m getting by, teaching the content straight from the book Peace Corps provided me with. But I’m unable to add anything from my own knowledge, since I learned everything I know about binary from said book. since I can't contribute, I feel pretty useless.

Ideally, I could switch to being a lab monitor, and I expect I would be much more effective. But, the school expected a theory teacher: I’ve already taught the first month of school. Part of having a national I.T. syllabus, is a national requirement to teach it. If I switched I would deprive my school of a teacher.

My counterpart (the Cameroonian Peace Corps first assigned me to work with) is the censeur at my school. So, he knows about the education system, but nothing of the I.T. content. When I explained my difficulty in teaching the theory content, he said that the theory leads to the practical, and I know the practical, so I can manage the theory. This is true, in theory. So, I’ll let you know what happens. Maybe I can switch jobs at the end of the year?

Moving on, to the fact that I’m moving: Stacy, the pcvl who lives at the case here in Ngaoudéré, is leaving in November. Pcvl is a third year extension position, and no one has extended from the current round of close-of-service-ers. Either Michelle or I have to move in, since it's against Peace Corps policy to pay rent on an uninhabited house. So I’ll be moving in November to a bigger house, in the more secure centre commercial, and I’ll have a water heater for showers! I expect to live there at least a year. If someone extends and takes the pcvl position next December, I would find another house. Once I decided to move, I started getting excited about the prospect of living in the house, and having people visit all the time. I won't have the other pcvl responsibilities, so I think I’m getting a pretty sweet deal.

I don't want to leave you thinking I’m not still enjoying myself. There’s still plenty of new things I’m discovering and I’m enjoying the challenge of living here.

two weeks of school down

18 September 2008

School is it's getting better, as I get more comfortable. The kids laugh at my accent, but its good practice for my French. My schedule is complicated. I teach eleven classes, with sixty to seventy students in each class. The lowest level I teach is 4eme; generally thirteen year olds I guess. The highest level is terminale, which is basically the freshman year of college. However the students could be older than I. Often they fail their exams. They have the same BAC system as the French. Sometimes they have to take a year or two off, to work and save enough to afford school. There are plenty of smart students. Some have computers at home, and others have never touched one. The discrepancy is a little daunting, but this way they are able to help each other. I teach each class once every two weeks, for an hour and forty minutes (meaning we will cover hardly anything). I teach afternoons Monday and Thursday, and mornings Tuesday and Wednesday. I have no classes Friday.

I do have fantastic water pressure. Felipe (the volunteer I replaced) said the water never cut out in the whole two years he lived there. I’m pretty lucky.
I still don't have electricity. The company needs a copy of the lease, and my landlord is out of town. His friend signed a temporary contract for me, but then I had to get it stamped at the finance building and the chief of police...the policeman had literally six stamps he used on it, and then signed. Very Cameroonian--they love ink stamps and making things look official. Then I took the paper to the electric co, SONEL, but there was a huge line. You have to pay your bill in person, and it must be due soon. So rather than wait in line, I’m going back another day. It’s not so inconvenient, since I’m able to charge my phone at Stacy’s house.

My postmates, Michelle and Stacy, and I joined a dance class. It’s two hours on Wednesday evening and four hours Saturday and Sunday afternoons. It’s a lot of dancing when you first start! But it's great exercise and stress relief, as well as an opportunity to meet Cameroonians. i don't have any Cameroonian friends yet, just coworkers and acquaintances.

Peace Corps provides us with bikes, which is also great exercise. I loved getting out of the city to ride through the green landscape. This weekend Michelle, Sam and I are planning to bike to a lake four miles from Sam’s village. I’ll try to take some pictures and send them.

I still mean to take pictures of my house so you guys can see that too.
Otherwise, I’ve been cooking and continuing to set up house. My favorite meal out is poisson braisé: they season and grill a whole fish, and you eat it with mayonnaise or spicy sauce with your fingers. Sometimes i splurge on french fries and make it Cameroonian fish and chips.

Today was a good day, and I’m happy here right now.

trip to post: a stop in yaounde

23 August 2008

Training is over--yesterday we swore in, and are now peace corps volunteers! Finally.

happy things:

*we get to start accomplishing things: both our primary projects (mine is teaching computers to high school-ers), and secondary projects (I’m trying to find something architecture related, like working with habitat for humanity int'l)

*we don't have a seven o'clock curfew anymore

*we get to move into our own houses, start cooking our own meals, cleaning our own dishes/clothes/vegetables/etc.

*I can set up a space in my house as a studio and get painting!

*make new friends, with my post mates and with Cameroonians like my fellow teachers, my neighbors, the ladies at the market when I try to speak Fulfulde, etc

the sad part:

*leaving my new best friends. I’ve become close to some of my fellow stagaires, and I like all 36 of them. It’s going to be hard to leave little America for real Cameroon.

*there are no other sad points

fears:

*what if I’m really bad at teaching? I don't actually know what I’m doing, teaching computers in French.

*other fears, much lighter on my mind like: catching malaria, having mice, other inconveniences

motivators:

*practice French

*practice Fulfulde

*get started teaching so i stop worrying about it, and start dealing with it

*secondary project: as soon as I realized the need for housing in Yaoundé, I felt like I might actually be able to contribute something. And that sort of project would be great on my resume for a future in architecture

*painting: space has been a limiting factor, and I would really like to be putting time and energy into my artwork soon

*become bien integrée

*exciting new things!

*setting up my own house

*getting a kitten or puppy: puppies are good for security because Cameroonians are afraid of dogs, but kitties eat cockroaches and mice. And they are so cute!

I haven't updated you guys much on stage happenings, par exemple our visit to the chief of Bangante one Sunday. I’ll have to pad further updates with those stories. For now, know that I am safe, healthy, and enthused for the move: for the real beginning of my service as a real volunteer.

midpoint of training: site visit

19 July 2008

I won't be sending as detailed updates as I had originally hoped in these first few months. Once I move to my post and can set up house, I’ll try to get internet and you will be sick of hearing from me. Until then, I’m at the cyber cafe, getting all sorts of weird maladies from the public keyboard. Actually, I’ve yet to get sick here.

I visited my post last week. I’m in Ngaoundéré, the provincial capitol of Adamaoua. I’ve already gotten some mail here (thanks Mom, and Mary) but I received some letters out of order. I was able to see my house on my visit. I have electricity and running water, albeit cold water. Since I’m in the capitol, I can basically get whatever food I want. Adamaoua is known for raising beef, and most of the fruits and veggies of southern Cameroon come up on the train. (I will leave the train story for another time, look forward to it). So as far as Peace Corps goes, I’m living in the lap of luxury. I have three postmates--Sam (she met me and showed me around on my visit). Stacy lives at the Peace Corps regional house, which is a five minute walk from my house. Michelle is a small enterprise development volunteer from my training class who will live in Ngaoundéré too. In addition to the volunteers already at post, there are also four other volunteers from my class and program in Adamaoua, and six more throughout the rest of the grand north. Hence, I don't expect to be lonely for Americans very often.

I’ve started learning Fulfulde, in addition to French. It makes me miss cognates, but its fun to play with. I won't have to speak it much because the education system is in French, but I would like to use it in the market and on the street. The first word I learned in Fulfulde was "nasara," which means "la blanche," or "white girl."

My school is a five minute walk from my house too. They have a lab of sixty computers, which is amazing. It’s the basic equivalent of high school, and I’ll be teaching computer literacy.

I’m having a pretty awesome time, despite a few bad days. I do lack news: both the newspaper kind, and updates on your lives. Don’t forget to tell me when you get a job, etc. Once I take some pictures, I’ll send the choice ones along to you guys. So far Cameroon is a beautiful place, though it's the rainy season, so the mud is a little overwhelming.

homestay in bangante

Monday, June 16, 2008

I wish I could stop being welcomed here. I would like to be here already. I would like to stop hearing about what I will experience, and start experiencing it. Our trainers keep saying that it's hard to be here, when it's anything but. Everyday is better than the one before, because I am more comfortable. French is absolutely exhausting, but successfully communicating is the ultimate prize. It makes me more determined to go to a francophone province. They flashed us a list of the possible sites today: I wish I had time to copy them down so I could ask my family about each place. I like Bangante: everything is green! It's reassuringly like home. The plants are tropical, but that just means delicious fruits: bananas, pineapples, papayas, and mangoes. I tried to tell my family that these are delicacies back home, in the hopes that fish heads will stop staring back at me from my dinner plate.

So far the fish are served with a tomato based sauce on white rice. We also made macaroni one day, which I liked better than the rice. They grow lots of corn in this city, and the neighboring city is a watermelon town. Adjacent to the corn they grow peanuts and green beans. My family has a very small garden where they grow leeks, and other things. I haven't figured out what else is in the garden. We have also eaten chicken once or twice, which someone told me today was a big deal. I feel bad that I don't really care for the meat here. I don't know how much anything costs them, so I don't know if I should be really thankful for something I only like so-so, like chicken. They don't let me get away with not taking any, because they wait for me to serve myself before they serve themselves. I like trying everything, but don't really care for a large helping of everything. Boiled plantains are growing on me, but I don't think they'll ever be my favorite. But the most striking thing about mealtime is not the food, but the family dynamics.

I live at Chez Omer Yonga. Omer is mon pere, and ma mere is Nicole. They have three sons and one adopted nephew: Ulrich (13?), Jean-Bertrande (8?), Charles (6?) and Christian (-2). In addition, two grown relatives live with us: Valerie and Fabrice (both male, even though one's named Valerie). I won't venture a guess at how old they are, but they are both set to take their graduation qualification exam this week. My parents are teachers at the highschool. The younger children finished the school year last week, and went to the capitol, Yaoundé, to stay with their grandma for two weeks. I fit in the equation as an honored guest so far. I eat with my parents, and the kids would serve themselves and eat at the other end of the table. Valerie and Fabrice eat standing up in the kitchen, even when there is room at the table. They also set and clear the table. Children have to do lots of chores here. The young boys have to wash the floors and sweep. They wash shoes and dishes, and watch le bebe.

My family is Catholic. They have a shelf with pictures of Pope Benedict, and we went to Mass on Sunday. They call Christ le Seigneur in many instances. Mass was long, an hour and a half. During the homily, the priest would preach for a while, and then sing the first line of a song. The congregation all seemed to know these songs, and joined in for a short while. Then, he would continue preaching until they all sang again. They probably broke into song three times in the one homily. They also collected money to build a new church. It reminded me of home, and made me want to pray the pray for our church construction project: Heavenly Father, as a sign of your steadfast love, in a world hardened by sin, help us prepare your holy dwelling place, where your growing Christian family…

The rainy season is beginning as we speak. I think the first word I learned in Bangante was mud (boue), and georgia clay wishes it was this red. It feels like I've been in Cameroon for a month, when in reality it's been a week. Best guess, I feel this way because everything is so new, but exactly the same. Time also seems slower here. Since I don't have to plan my days, they just happen and it's easy to lose track of how long I've been doing this.

first week: hotel in yaounde

Thursday, June 12, 2008

So, I'm finally here. Yaoundé, Cameroon is my first experience of Africa, and so far I'm pleased. We've stayed at a hotel (Hotel Jouvence 2000) here in the city, but this afternoon we are driving to the training site, to move in with our homestay families. I'm nervous about the meeting the family.

I'll live with my host family for ten weeks, during training in Bangante. Then we all move to our individual posts, which we will chose/be assigned to in the following weeks.

One afternoon we left the hotel in small groups to explore the city some. It's easy to become disoriented because the streets are not straight and there are no road signs, but we we're able to make a large loop. Since it was Sunday, the businesses were closed. There were still some street vendors selling mangoes, peanuts, bananas, western clothes, and electronics. I was worried we'd be approached too much, but most people let us be. Some people made sales attempts, but mostly we had a nice walk. There is flora aplenty, but not as many stray animals as I expected. There are many wild lizards.

Except the time we ate at the country directors, all our meals have been at the hotel. They make nice salads, but we've yet to have a green salad. They have been carrot or avocado based. They put sliced fresh onion on most things as a flavoring garnish. Our meals begin with the small salad. The main dish is a small potion of protein (fish, chicken, or beef ), a carbohydrate, and a veggie or fruit. Veggies might be carrots or bell peppers. Carbs might be pasta, but most often fluffy rice in huge portions. The people here seem to greatly dislike the starving Africa stereotype, so they will try to keep you well fed.

They have a few native beers. Beaufort, Trente-trois, Castel, and Guinness are available. They also sell sachets: little plastic bags of whiskey. I have not tried the whiskey.

Health-wise, the past two days have been a downward progression. Many of us have fallen prey to digestive illness. I have a very mild case, and I am not really bothered by it. I think we will have a more difficult time when we eat with the host families. I was not adjusting to the time change appropriately, so I have not been getting very much sleep: three to four hours a day since we got here. Since I've been sick, I've felt extremely fatigued, and was able to get more rest.

Our hotel has running water and heaters, though they give out sometime everyday it seems. We have a bucket in the bathroom full of water to flush when the water is cut off. It takes the whole bucket to flush, and then you hope the water comes on. We also have electricity, on a 240 current. We have some critter friends, even though the sign posted in the elevator says they fumigated last week. We have an air conditioner in the rooms, and some rooms have mini fridges (not mine).

The tap water is unsafe to drink untreated, but fine to bathe in. We have been drinking and brushing our teeth with bottled water, until we move to our homestays. There we will have to filter our water.

The people: There are 38 trainees. It is hard to consider who will be e.t.ing. Firstly, because no one seems to be hesitant. Secondly, because we have gotten to know each other well in this week we've been together and don't want to lose anyone.