Home Sweet Home!

I’m in my house in Bafang!  Let the next two years begin! 

But let’s take it back a week or so…

Sunday, 17-11-2013:  Our last day of “language class”.  Luckily, everyone was on the same page and no one went to (or expected their students to go to) language class.  After hanging out at the training center for a while, Alizabeth, Danielle, and I went out for spaghetti omelets (*cAN’T believe I haven’t mentioned that this exists – that’s right people.  It’s exactly what it sounds like.  Freaking spaghetti. In an omelet.  Revolutionary.  It’s also apparently like the Cameroonian version of Ramen – students make it a lot because it’s cheap, easy, delicious, and devoid of nutrients.) and to pick up a few items in Bafia proper.  We made it back in time to watch the big game!  Since I’m sure you were all following it, I’ll be brief: last month, Cameroon played Tunisia in a soccer game to qualify for next year’s world cup.  The score was 0-0 and they were scheduled to play again last weekend.  If they were to tie again, Cameroon would be out and Tunisia would proceed to the world cup.  The only way for Cameroon to make it would be to WIN.  So what did those indomitable lions do?  They freaking CRUSHED IT.  Final score was 4-1.  What???  What game is this, basketball??  I have never in my life heard of such a high score in soccer!!!!!* (*partly, admittedly, because I don’t follow soccer at all)  So the Cameroonian Indomitable Lions are headed to the world cup next year, and I will be here to revel in it!  So excited!  When the game was over, we danced and whooped and cheered with the bartender and a 6 year old boy as the other Cameroonian patrons looked on coolly.

This was also the night that I had to pack up all of my belongings minus a 3-night bag.  So naturally I stayed up until 1 am NOT packing and woke up at 5 to frantically throw everything into my suitcases.

Monday, 18-11-2013 (happy birthday Daddy!): Last day of actual training!  Unceremonious.  Also my last night with my host family L also unceremonious. 

Tuesday, 19-11-2013: Bright and early this morning, I moved out of my host family house.  I left a thank you card and a small pile of gifts on the table (which I had intended to give them the night before, but everyone was sleeping and/or not home).  When they were discovered, I finally got some of the pomp and circumstance I craved for my departure.  We all hugged, they vowed to display my thank you card in the living room (which really made me regret not putting more time into the painfully lame cover), and my dad gave me a bottle of champagne!  I am really going to miss them – they ended up being the best host family ever and an amazing first experience having younger siblings!  I hope they come and visit me in Bafang, or that I can go back to visit them sometimes.  The saddest part of the morning of my farewell was that Michael was still sleeping by the time I left – I never got to say goodbye!  God I love that kid.

After arriving at the training center, we all boarded a bus for Yaoundé, for banking and swearing in!  We arrived a couple of hours late due to rain, so then we had a very harried explanation of the banking activities we needed to do throughout the day, only to arrive at the bank and find that we had to wait around for several hours.  I did get to eat a pizza (30% authentic, 65% delicious) and chocolate éclair (100% perfect) from a nearby boulangerie, which was a treat.  Then we waited around more, horrifying countless Cameroonians by our American habit of sitting on floors.  After waiting and waiting and waiting, our banking was successful and we headed to the embassy.  Then I was handed a surprise care package which absolutely made my day!  (Lissa, you are amazing!!)  It was perfect timing to get little American comforts and ebooks the day before leaving for post.  And it was so clearly put together by a Peace Corps Care Package Pro!

Peace Corps arranged for us all to spend the night with embassy home stay families.  AKA to live in palaces and be treated like royalty.  Maureen and I walked into our homestay and our jaws dropped.  Not only was there air conditioning, but dehumidifiers!  The house was huge and nice and there were multiple bathrooms, all with running water and hot showers.  We each got our own room with spring mattresses (not foam!).  The couple that took us in was really nice and generous – they even gave us goodie bags!  And dinner was TO DIE FOR.  It started with a salad.  Maybe the best salad in the world.  It had lettuce from the garden, tomatoes, cucumbers, kalamata olives (!!!!!!!), sheep’s milk feta cheese (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and an herby vinaigrette.  Maureen and I each had two plates.  The next course was an amazing bourbon chicken served over brown rice, with string beans and freshly made rolls.  And then there were brownies for dessert.  And lots of wine.  Maureen and I also each had two servings of dinner, two servings of dessert, and more servings of wine than I’d care to share.  We were in heaven.  And the whole meal was on this screened in porch which was beautiful and amazing. 

Wednesday, 20-11-2013:  Breakfast was just as thrilling – banana bread, pumpkin bread (just in time for the holidays!  This was the first semi-seasonal food or pumpkin-spiced anything I’ve had of the year!), yogurt, fruit, two cups of perfectly brewed coffee, and BACON, which isn’t available in country and they had to import in their freezer shipment of all the American foods we miss most.  I had a gorgeous night’s sleep and heavenly hot shower and by the time I arrived at the embassy, dressed in my swearing in pagne, I was up on a cloud in an incredible mood.

Wednesday was the day of swearing in.  For those who may not know, this is the ceremony where we trainees officially become volunteers.  There are speeches, performances, an overdramatic oath where we all swear to protect the constitution of the United States OR ELSE, important people (as David kept reminding us), and matching pagne* (*fabric).  This was also kind of an event to induct our new Peace Corps office, which is switching locations in Yaoundé shortly.  Anyway, we all took lots of pictures and gave each other hugs and HAGS’s and promised to come visit each other at post.  Not sure if I mentioned that all the trainees had been practicing our performance of Peace Train, by Cat Stevens, but it went off pretty well and all of the VIPs were presumably impressed.  Trainees also presented speeches in French, Pidgin, and Fulfulde, which were well done.  Oh yeah and we were on national television so that was cool.

After tossing our figurative caps in the air, we feasted with each other, our language trainers, Peace Corps staff, VIPs, and our invitees – my host mom!  It was really nice to see her again.  She told me that Michael had been knocking on the door to my room and she had to break the news that I had heartlessly abandoned him.  Absolutely killed me.  She also confessed that I was, without rival, the best trainee they had hosted!!!!!  Not sure if she was just trying to flatter me, but I’m going to go ahead and declare that a MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.  So all of those nine other bitches can eat me.  No matter what happens from here on out, I can leave Cameroon in peace.

Then it was back to Bafia for our “graduation” party at the esteemed Hotel Newpalace!  Some of us made trouble with a couple of bottles of wine in the back of the bus (because open container laws are soo not Cameroonian) and got ready to dance our butts off, together, for the last time before going to post.  The party was lots of fun although it got broken up by a disconcerting incident of someone breaking into one of our hotel rooms.  Everyone was fine and I’m pretty sure nothing was taken, but it put a damper on the festivities.

Thursday, 21-11-2013:  We all gathered at the training center, loaded up our belongings, said some goodbyes, and boarded different coasters* (*like a 24-seater bus) based on where we were posted.  My gang headed to Bafoussam, the regional capital of the West.  Once we arrived to the Peace Corps office of Bafoussam, affectionately termed “the Baffice”, we realized that we didn’t know what the hell to do next.  I knew that I was supposed to stick with the people going to the Littoral and South West regions and get dropped on their way to Nkongsamba, but we didn’t have a clue how to get there.  After bumming around, grabbing lunch, asking questions, and wondering where our bus drivers went and why they still hadn’t unloaded our luggage, a plan was formulated to depot* (*buy out all the seats) a coaster for the eight of us and drop me in Bafang on their way.  Eventually we found out a company, talked to someone, got them to come with a coaster, negotiated and re-negotiated our terms (no, you can’t send our luggage separately, and no, we don’t want to share it with those six strangers, and no, we’re not paying that much), and jumped into the super janky van.  I would be lying if I said I didn’t fear for my life most of the ride to Bafang, but the view was absolutely gorgeous and I eventually made it safely with all of my stuff.  Lee, my wonderful post mate, met me with a taxi to take all of my stuff and showed me to my new home.

And now, what you’ve all been waiting for…

                                    --- BAFANG ---

Well, my house is exactly as it was described to me, so there wasn’t much room for surprise.  I have a big gate and wall for security, and when you get in, there is a small cement courtyard (featuring three tires full of dirt that will eventually become my quaint, urban herb garden) with a sink and a laundry line and a bannister.  Enter the house: small bathroom (flush toilet and running water sink!) on the left, right in front of staircase ascending to the next level.  Big open area (soon to be filled with a living room set) and a kitchen table with bright turquoise walls, a big American flag, a full length mirror (rare commodity!), and the entrance to the bright pink kitchen, which has a sink, counter top, drying rack, counter-top stove (+ giant gas bottle), and under-counter storage, occupied exclusively by cockroaches.  Upstairs: orangish-tiled bathroom with shower area (which has a functioning shower whose water is so cold it should only be used as an interrogation tactic), flush toilet, running water sink.  To your left: guest room and small workout room (I am undecided whether or not to keep it as a workout room.  I probably won’t use it a lot to work out, but I probably won’t use it a lot for anything else.  If anyone has any room ideas, plz inspire me.).  To your right, bedroom and giant second bedroom used as closet room (built in shelving/hanging units!  Wow!).  And that’s the house!  It is wonderful, but the best part of all is the view from the front door.  Wowowowow.  And it appears there are no mice in my room, although there was a lizard blinking at me cutely, curled up on my pillow.  I threw him out the second story window, and felt bad for possibly killing him until I saw him again the next morning, staring in wistfully from the wrong side of the glass.

After spending about an hour wandering from room to room trying to figure out how on earth to start moving in, I knocked on Lee’s gate (since he lives directly next door!!) and we headed over to Leonard and Karrine’s.  Leonard is Lee’s counterpart and Karine was one of Sarah’s best friends, and they are both Anglophone and super, super nice.  They live around the corner and as soon as I walked in they welcomed me warmly and didn’t stop offering me different foods until I had eaten peanuts, roast corn, beans, manioc, and a healthy portion of the bottle of wine they opened in my honor.  And this was all just a pre-dinner snack.  Anyway, they are SO nice and I look forward to spending more time with them!  After that, Lee and I went back to his house where we made pancakes for my special first Bafang meal!  They had banana and cocoa powder in them and we ate them with so many American toppings: peanut butter, nutella, honey, maple syrup.  Oh, and we had more wine. (ikr?)  This is also when Lee revealed that he has read my entire blog and therefore 1) he already knows everything about me and my life and I have no anecdotes that are new to him and 2) I’d better not even think about badmouthing him on this thing (love you, Lee!). But seriously, he is the best post mate ever and I can only imagine how different it would have felt to come to a new scary place to live without such a warm and thoughtful welcome.

Friday, 22-11-2013:  Friday morning I woke up in my new bed(/mattress on floor) in my new house and welcomed the first day of post-training freedom!  I went for a short walk in the morning, where I had the lump-in-my-throat realization that this gorgeous city is my new home and that I live in Africa and this is actually happening and for once in my life I can hear more birds than cars.  And I’m doing it!  I actually joined the Peace Corps and made it to post and am seeing the world!  It’s so cool!

After eating our leftover pancakes for breakfast, I met up with Lee for lunch at one of his favorite Bafang joints.  He raved about the salads, but even after hearing him talk about them, I was surprised by how normal and American they were.  (of course, it was normal and American because I asked them to hold the mayo and condensed milk, so there’s that.)  For a pretty big salad plus a plate with basically a baguette, it costs $1 USD.  Suck on that, $14 Manhattan salads!!  After lunch, Lee took me to what can only be described as happy hour with some of his colleagues.  Because he teaches in the Anglophone section of the bilingual school, all of his colleagues are Anglophone (which is to say, they not only speak English but English as their first language, so there is absolutely no reason to use French with them.).  I got to have my first bottle of Kadji, a regional beer of the West, and it’s really good!  Such a relief because 33 is terrible.  And that wasn’t the only nice surprise – I won a free beer!  Different brands of beer will be periodically “winning”, where you have the chance to win prizes (a bottle of beer, 12 bottles of beer, or 50,000 CFA) based on what’s beneath your bottle cap.  My very first one and I was the lucky winner J  It was fun and cool hanging out with this small group of young Cameroonian teachers, all of whom were laughing and having a good time.

Next, Lee showed me a little around the market (huge! Wow! Amazing!  And it’s not even market day!) and petit supermarket and I picked up just enough groceries to not die for a few days.  It’s a nice distance into town – a pleasant 15-minute or so walk, or a quick and easy moto ride.  Oh, I’m becoming a pro at riding motos.  I don’t even need to death grip anything anymore!  And the best part about moto rides is that to go anywhere in town always costs cent francs, that is, twenty US cents.  Can you imagine taking a 20 cent cab ride in the US?  No, you can’t, because they always set the minimum price at $3.00 or something ridiculous.  I like it much better this way.

I know what you’re all thinking – isn’t this supposed to be an emotional rollercoaster?  Why are you so happy?  Don’t worry, I was thinking the same thing.  When I got home and looked at my still-packed suitcases in the big empty entryway and the kitchen counter cluttered with I had no idea what, I had the same kind of mini-panic that I did the first night in Bafia.  And that I probably would moving into any new place in the US.  Just thoughts like, oh my gosh, how do I even start moving in?   I need to clean first.  And buy furniture.  And sort through all of the goodies left behind by Sarah to see what I actually want to keep and what I don’t.  But I can’t do any of that until I know whether I have any cleaning supplies, or where to buy them, which I don’t, because I don’t know anything about this crazy new place.  And man, it’s kind of lame the way the Peace Corps tricks us into making close friendships for a few months only to tear us all apart and plunge us into isolation.  Plus I burned myself while cooking and remembered that I also don’t even know how to like, cook, or care for myself, or live on my own at all.  Anyway, yeah.  Rollercoaster.  After a couple of phone calls with friends going through the exact same thing, I felt better.

Later that evening I got to meet the elusive Ricky, my other post mate/next door neighbor.  He, Lee, Luca (an Italian guy who lives in Bafang working for an NGO), a friend of Luca’s, Rose Nichole (one of our marvelous Peace Corps language trainers who is originally from Bafang), and I all got a drink in town.  The bar just happened to be the only one on the block lacking electricity, so we sat by candle light and I think Lee nailed it when he said it looked like a bar for pirates.

Saturday, 23-11-2013:  Saturday morning was lazy!  I lay around and reveled in the lack of reasons to get out of bed.  Soon, however, my day was transformed into a non-stop productive clean-a-thon!  One of the nicest but also ultimately most stressful parts about moving in here is the amount of stuff Sarah left behind for me.  A lot of it is important staples that I’m saving money on (coffee!  Woohoo!  Pots and pans!), and some is cool stuff that I might not have bought myself but can now enjoy (camping hammock!!  Four foot long alligator stuffed animal!!), but some will need to go (I don’t even really know what you do with baby powder and I now have five bottles of it.  Also, four yoga mats over here, count em.).  I also guess my mom trained me well and I am anxious to get rid of some of the clutter.  So, that became a big project.  Lee came over to help me out/receive my neurotic rantings about whether I should keep one or two bottles of moisturizer.  Together we went through all of the toiletries and medical supplies left behind, separating into keep-give away-toss, and brainstormed the future organization of the closet area and bookshelf area and each room.  We de-spider webbed and (because really, did you think I would be the only one who wanted to live in a house this nice?) swept and cleared out trash. 

We then tackled the kitchen!  Before departing the US, I had put together a small spice kit, containing baggies of the 8 or 9 essential spices, thinking to myself, “now, this is the perfect amount to get me through the next two years!”.  Now that I’ve moved in here, I have a total of 48 different spices (plus doubles and triples of some), including some spices I have never heard of (what does one do with Turmeric?), and many blends with vaguely poetic names like “Arizona Dreaming” and “Mural of Flavor”.  As much as I love the idea of being a master chef who can navigate this many spices, I am not, and they took up almost the entire kitchen counter.  After inventorying, taking some ziplock baggie samples, and making some real tough decisions, we were able to cut down the clutter significantly.  I also finally figured out what I already have in the kitchen, which occasionally involved some (exciting? dangerous? stupid?) blind taste tests by Lee and me.  I found a bottle of insecticide and gave the cabinets a good spraying to evict (namely: kill) the cockroaches within.

Not sure if I’ve mentioned the Cameroonian sanitation system before.  It doesn’t exist.  Some families simply toss their trash on the side of the road, or in a slightly more designated trash heap, or else they burn it.  PCVs are all pained to do it, but there aren’t really any alternatives.  After gathering a bunch of trash from our cleaning extravaganza, Lee showed me where (across the street) and how (with chemicals!) to burn my garbage.  We lit a nice big Cameroonian bonfire of plastic water bottles, aluminum cans, and other random trash.  I had thrown away an inflatable globe that had a leak, and as we leached carcinogens into the air I watched the world literally burn.  Lee and I were standing around and watching the fire when there was a giant explosion, ball of fire, deafening sound, and shrapnel thrown at us.  We each jumped a foot in the air, convinced the apocalypse was upon us.  Note to self: do not burn aerosol cans in the future.

Upon returning to the house, we began to see the results of the insecticide spray.  There was a veritable exodus from the kitchen as roaches flooded across the living room floor.  We spent the next hour or two chasing, stomping, and tossing every roach we saw, totaling at least 20 or 30 big ones and countless smaller ones of all sizes.  My floor became a battleground, my compound a graveyard.  I confessed to Lee that if he hadn’t been there, it would have been a very different scene, of me crouching in the corner crying on the phone with Peace Corps asking to be sent home.  Anyway, I am thoroughly grossed out that so many cockroaches were living in my kitchen, but I am glad the spraying was so successful!  Apart from finding a few more dead ones in the morning, I haven’t seen any more roaches since.  AND STAY OUT.

Anyway, it was a huge and productive day and by the end of it I felt way more in control of my living space and like I’m on the road to settling in!

Sunday, 24-11-2013:  In the morning: more cleaning!  Sorted clothes!  Washed sheets!  Scrubbed the kitchen counter and stove!  Swept a few upstairs rooms!  This house is gonna sparkle!

One of Lee’s colleagues had invited me to a meeting in the afternoon.  Lee and I headed over 30 fashionable minutes late, so naturally we were the first ones there and had to wait outside the house for the owners to return.  I wasn’t sure what to expect for this “meeting” – it’s a group of people living in Bafang who come from the same town/tribe in the Northwest.  Anyway, as it turns out, I still don’t know what went on because the business was all conducted in their local language.  Lee and I sat there, clueless, as our glasses of palm wine and corn beer were refilled and refilled. 

[Oh, palm wine – a staple of Cameroonian culture, not sure why it doesn’t exist in the US.  It’s interesting because it comes directly from palm trees and is served unadulterated.  It’s naturally alcoholic and effervescent and it continues to ferment even after being tapped from the tree.  For this reason, it must be consumed the same day it is tapped and they apparently haven’t figured out how to bottle it.  I like it.  It tastes, to me, like a Smirnoff Ice with a shot of white vinegar that has the mouthfeel of movie theater butter.  This was my first experience with corn beer, which is creamy/cloudy like soy milk and smells like sweet corn and tastes okay.]

Finally, as the business part of the meeting concluded, they served dinner of fou fou and njamma njamma, which we ate with our hands (naturally).  Lee and I were both surprised by what came next, which was music and dancing.  Someone pulled out a big bag of musical instruments, very reminiscent of a nursery school birthday party, and started passing them out.  People grabbed whistles and shakers and big tubes that made farting noises, and someone had a drum, and everyone started seemingly randomly making their noise and continuing with a semi-pattern as they started thumping their feet and shaking their hips.  Lee and I sat on the couch, watching as this group of fully grown Cameroonian men played with musical instruments and acted like it was music.  I said it reminded me of the dance scene in Snow White; Lee said it reminded him of a skit on SNL.  And we continued to sit there as they ridiculously continued thumping and banging and shaking and tooting.  And then I started to realize that it wasn’t ridiculous, and that they were all on the same page and this was definitely a familiar song/dance to all of them and it even had specific moves to it.  And then we were pulled from the couch and made to join in and learn the dance step as we all circled around the musicians in the middle.  By the end I fully appreciated it as a cool cultural experience – that here I am in Cameroon getting randomly sucked into a Banso’o cultural dance in someone’s living room!  Wow!

Monday, 25-11-2013: Today I had a great, productive, independent day in town!  I felt like a functioning adult for the first time since arriving in country as I took a moto to Express Union, got my $$ (without any Peace Corps staff telling me how to fill out the forms!), found my way to the bank, and opened myself a new account.  I even had some French conversations with Cameroonians.  I passed one woman on the street wearing an outfit made from the same pagne as mine.  I pointed it out to her, to which she responded, “Oh!  You stole my dress!  Or.. maybe I stole your dress!”  We laughed.  Integration J I milled around the market area for a while, since it was market day.  Bought some stuff.  Grabbed some beans and bread for lunch at a chop house near the market, where people stared at me and made fun of my bad French.

After dropping my goodies back home, I set out to find my counterpart.  After our meeting in Bafia, I had promised to call her as soon as I arrived in Bafang so that she could help me settle in, find my house, and show me around.  Unfortunately, I put her number in my phone wrong and so when I tried to reach her it didn’t work.  Stumped for how else to contact her, I saw a sign on a building near my house that mentioned the promotion of women and family (the name of her center), so I went in.  I awkwardly introduced myself to the one guy in the office and explained that I was looking for Madame Tchouamo and hoped that maybe she was here.  Turns out, this guy is actually the delegate for (something) and is kind of a big shot and it was probably a huge faux pas to come knocking on his door asking for someone else.  Despite that, he was very nice and explained that she worked at the other office downtown, but that he would drive me there and we would find her.  So I grabbed shotgun in the delegate’s Toyota and he nicely took me right to Anne Marie’s doorstep.  As I feared, she had been worrying about me and why I hadn’t contacted her (why she didn’t try calling me, I will never know).  But we resolved the phone number issue and finally linked up and agreed to meet up tomorrow to do protocol and meet some of the big shots in town.  So, glad to get that resolved!

When I got home I continued on my cleaning streak and swept and scrubbed the bedroom, workout room, bathroom, stairs, and kitchen.  I’m not done with sweeping and scrubbing yet, but it’s coming along!  Oh, and it turns out that clearing spider webs is less an event and more of a lifestyle.  I guess it has been added to my daily routine. 

THAT BRINGS US UP TO PRESENT DAY!  I hope you don’t mind that this was essentially a transcript of my diary but with all of the juicy stuff taken out.

A few notes:

-          At some point since being here I found myself thinking that there were fewer beggars than I expected.  When I picture third world countries, I picture something similar to the slums of India where hoards of children bombard each passing person for loose change.  It’s not like that here.  I have seen a few beggars on the street, mostly in Yaoundé, but they don’t exist on any grand scale.  But now my view is kind of shifting.  I think that in reality, it’s just that the line between beggars and everyone else is more blurred here.  The person in line behind you at the bank might turn to you and tell you they’re hungry and don’t you have anything for them?  Or someone who is selling vegetables might ask if they can take your moto helmet.  Pretty much anyone and any setting is fair game to ask for something.

-          After living with a Cameroonian host family and now moving into my own place, I am struggling with some integration pains.  During one of our training sessions, they talked about grappling with learning a new culture while preserving and being aware of your own.  Now that I’m on my own, I can’t decide if I should be cooking manioc and gumbo or American favorites with Cameroonian ingredient substitutes.  While still in Bafia, I tried to fit in by eschewing cutting boards and cutting in my hands like my whole family did.  Now that I’m in my own place using good quality, sharp, American knives, made for use with cutting boards, my thumb is covered in tiny, shallow lacerations, the physical manifestations of my integration pain.  When do you give up what you’ve always known for the sake of integration?  How do you decide which aspects of a culture should be changed to improve quality of life?  And how can you attempt to live in a completely different place for just two years, give yourself over to learning a new way of life, and then bounce back and fit snugly back into American culture when you return?  When I look down at the cuts on my thumb, I know that this issue won’t be resolved simply.

-          Not sure what internet access will be looking like.  I have an internet key but it was so slow that I couldn’t load a single web page earlier.  There are cyber cafes in town.  Neither of these options is free and I am very cheap so we will see!  If you're reading this, it means my internet key successfully uploaded it... on va voir.