Quarantine Weekend Chez Nous

Well, the bad news is, I’m sick.  The good news is, it’s not Malaria or HIV!  Today’s training sessions focused almost exclusively on those two health issues, and I have been successfully scared into never leaving my house without a mosquito net, insecticide, and ten or fifteen condoms.  I have a mere throat infection, which is practically welcome next to those alternatives.  Friday morning my throat suddenly started hurting, and I lost several nights of sleep in pain.  Although somewhat delayed because of the elections this Monday, I was finally able to get on an antibiotic on Tuesday and I’m already feeling much better.

To be cautious, Peace Corps volunteers country-wide were asked to lay low and stay at home all weekend and Monday because of the elections.  That made it a very convenient time to be sick, where I didn’t miss out on any social events and I kind of had an excuse to skip chores and sleep in at home!  I also finally got the chance to do my laundry for the first time, an event that came none too soon!  My host mom showed me how.  As she worked, her hands really looked like washing machines, sloshing and slapping and spurting suds everywhere.  The clothes were moving and churning and spitting.  I tried to imitate her; my shorts rolled around lazily in my hands.  Not one sud emerged.  She looked disdainfully at my work and grabbed the shorts so that they could get a real cleaning.  Until I accrue greater strength or greater skill, I guess all of my clothes will be washed on “delicates”.

After spending a little bit of time at a fellow trainee’s house and talking with others about their host siblings, I have come to appreciate mine all the more.  Some of the other trainees are ready to pull their hair out.  “How do you deal with them??” They asked.  They all talked about needing to escape their homes just to have a few moments away from clingy, crazy, aggressive, or bratty kids, all of whom would be heavily medicated if they lived in the US.  And after interacting with some of these other kids, I totally understand.  Why are you chewing on an electric wire?  Stop hitting your three-year-old sister.  Don’t climb on that.  No, you can’t have all of my belongings.  Etc.  That was the first time that I realized how miraculous my host siblings are!  I have an eight-year-old brother – the very age that most of these other wild rascals are – and what does he do?  He giggles a lot, buys me earrings, and eats heaps and heaps of food.  I am so lucky.

I can’t remember whether or not I have mentioned this about my family, but sometimes, they randomly break into song.  There are certain songs that Fitte plays on his phone a lot, and everyone will chime in and sing together.  Well, the other night, our spontaneous karaoke evolved into a spontaneous dance party.  The parents were eating in the living room, and Fitte was playing music on his phone, and eventually everyone was up and showing off their moves!  Ericka is an amazing dancer!  Fitte taught me some of his moves and I’m starting to learn some of his favorite songs.  Djiebril was a clown, doing silly dance moves that more often than not ended up with him giggling on the floor.  Michael wiggled a little to the beat, but didn’t contribute much more than that.  After a little while, my host mom came out and joined us and we all formed a dance circle where we went in one by one and did our thing.  I sufficiently embarrassed myself (resorting to classic moves such as the lawn sprinkler), and man, my host mom can get down!  Overall it was adorable, lots of fun, and definitely memorable.  Here's a snippet!

That night I also discovered that kids in Africa are just as afraid of cockroaches as I am!  It was comforting.  Through all of this I have felt like a pampered princess, unequipped to deal with daily African realities, but when Djiebril jumped up and squealed at the sight of a cockroach on the wall, I felt a little comforted.  Maybe we’re not so different after all.

As all the trainees have been talking about cultural differences and things they are struggling with, one common theme is that people are confused by the family structure in their home.  There are people introduced as siblings who don’t sleep there, or people who sleep there only some of the time, and in Cameroon, anyone can be your brother or your sister if you care about them.  This was a problem I couldn’t identify with.  Sure, a few other people have popped into our house, but we are pretty solidly two regular parents plus four regular kids (plus a few in college).  UNTIL TODAY.  When Ericka casually mentioned out of the blue something about “Djiebril’s mom”.  And it turns out, Djiebril and Michael are technically cousins, not brothers!  And they have only been living here for two months!  This whole time I thought they were experts on this place, but they actually are almost as new to Bafia as I am.  When I asked Ericka why they were living here, she said, “because they wanted to!”  I decided to leave it there.  I guess I will have to learn to love them even knowing that they aren’t my real brothers!

Today Ericka and I prepared dinner as part of my cultural learning/integration!  It was tasty!  It was actually the first time I have ever prepared a whole fish.  As with most things, I was much slower at removing the scales than Ericka.  I’m also trying not to feel insulted that I’m being taught how to cook by a ten-year-old.  If they had, like, a microwave, or an oven, I’d be all over that.  Ericka would be so impressed with my oven skills.  Maybe then she wouldn’t think I’m completely incompetent at everything.

Oh, one thing I’ve been meaning to mention.  I have heard since getting here that it is typical for male PCVs to lose weight and female PCVs to gain weight.  !!!!! ????  Well, there goes my whole Peace Corps diet plan!!!!!!  Plan B is to get Malaria.  Cross your fingers for me!

But seriously, weight is viewed very differently here.  It’s considered attractive for women to have curves and padding.  One morning at breakfast, I was yelled at for not eating enough bread.  My host dad told me that if I’m going to live in Cameroon, he’s going to need to fatten me up like my host mom or Ericka!  And with all the starch in my diet, that shouldn’t be a problem.  Apparently some people will compliment you by saying, “Wow!  You are so fat!!”  I can’t decide if it’s better to get that compliment or not!

My dress is finished!  I am really happy with the way it turned out, and thrilled to have my first piece of African clothing.  When I wore it to the doctor’s office, I thought, “Finally, I can blend in and not stand out at all!”  And then I remembered.  It’s going to be a long two years.

Lookin' real Cameroonian!