I'm Singing in the Rain

            I think it’s a very normal and expected rite of passage for every Peace Corps volunteer to have a dark period.  Well, I’m here to tell you that I’ve seen the light!  In a few previous posts, I alluded to having doubts and struggles without delving too much into specifics.  There were a few months there that I would, unfortunately, categorize as my “dark period.”  Maybe that’s overdramatic – I wasn’t miserable (most of the time), and I wasn’t seriously considering coming back to the US (most of the time), and I didn’t think Cameroon was the worst country in the whole world (most of the time), but now that that period is over and I feel how things are now, I can see clearly how much better they are than before.  Basically it’s a lot like leaving middle school and entering high school. 

            First and foremost: work satisfaction has shot up exponentially.  While I did have some good times teaching English during the school year, I never felt fulfilled.  I was not trained to be a teacher, I don’t think I’m very good at it, and my job was basically done completely alone without any collaboration with my counterpart/boss.  Now everything is different and wonderful and stressful but in a good way.  Let me start from the beginning.

            Some time in December, I was waiting to meet the mayor (this is foreshadowing.  Keep reading.) to introduce myself as part of arriving-in-village protocol.  As I waited, I started chatting with the woman next to me, also waiting for the mayor.  She asked where I was from, and what I was doing in Cameroon.  I told her I was here to work with youth.  “You two should work together!”  The secretary interjected.  She turned out to be the head of the Bafang youth center.  We both noncommittally agreed that yeah maybe totally sometime in the future if it works out we should do something together, and then parted ways without exchanging contact information. (This is the consequence of all the warnings from other PCVs against giving my number away, EVER.)

            Over the following months when I struggled with a lack of motivated work partners, I clung onto her memory as a beacon of hope and infinite potential.  Weekly, I would lament to Lee that I hadn’t exchanged information with this woman and now all I had was a name: Valerie.  An un-checked item lingered on my to-do list for months: find Valerie.

            One day at the end of April, over four months after our initial contact, I went to the youth ministry and saw a familiar face from a distant recollection.  “Valerie!!!”  I rudely cried as soon as I entered the office, ignoring the other important government officials in the room.  “JE TE CHERCHAIS DEPUIS!!!” [I’ve been searching for you forever!].  We exchanged contact information at long last and I made a vague suggestion that we could work together and organize, you know, something, for over the school vacation.  Within two weeks she called me and asked to meet to talk more about this plan.  Initiative on her part?  HUGELY good sign.  We met on a Monday and it was the polar opposite of the stereotypical Cameroonian meeting.  Well, except that she was two hours late.  But she did apologize for that.  And as soon as she did arrive, she pulled out a notebook and pen and started grilling me methodically.  “Okay, first: What is our objective?  And now, what are our sub-objectives?  And how to we plan to accomplish each of these?” I was delighted.  Compare this with most of my meetings with my other counterpart, which went like this:

            Me:  Let’s talk about what we’re going to do during the school vacation.

            Queen: Tu vas les former, non? [You’ll do trainings, won’t you?]

-          Meeting adjourned.

That was Monday.  On Friday we met again and she showed me a five page project proposal which detailed every point we had discussed, provided background information (“Our inspiration for this project is that the youth comprise 34.4% of the population of Cameroon and are more exposed to risks including…”), and even drew up a rough agenda.  I could have died.  And since then, she and Essoh, the other main guy helping with the project, have been consistently awesome.  Long story short: we are organizing a camp and it has been keeping me busy as a bee for the past two months, talking to officials, setting lesson plans, re-scheduling those meetings with officials, going back and waiting at their offices again… and again… and again… releasing radio announcements, and all the rest.  And I am a much happier person when I’m a busier person.  Plus, Valerie has become a good friend who has me over for dinner and teaches me how to cook Cameroonian food.  And she has a super cute daughter and she’s everything I ever wanted in a counterpart.

            The camp started today!  Quick details: it’s two weeks, in the mornings, for ages 10-14.  Today we had 19 kids but we’re expecting more in the days to come.  We are teaching sports, arts and crafts, sex ed, leadership/communication, and gender equality.  It’s free for the kids.  Our current budget is $100, donated by the chief of the village, but there is another $250 with our name on it that is kind of in the air.  This is one of the biggest stressors of the camp.  We went to the mayor’s office mid-June to request funding.  Two weeks later, we went back, but he was in Brazil for the world cup.  Once he returned, we went back every day for a week and a half until we finally met him.  In a 10 minute meeting, he agreed to fully finance our proposed $250 budget.  Now the mandate is written up and missing only his signature, for which we have returned to his office every day for the past two weeks… and we are waiting still.  It’s very frustrating but, c’est la vie.  Fingers crossed that the rest of the camp goes smoothly.           

            Second but equally foremost:  My living situation is awesome.  Before Luca moved in, I was most excited for the “perks” of our roommate relationship: the fridge, the washing machine, the wifi, the TV and cable (recent additions).  The occasional home-cooked Italian meal or guitar lesson.  But it turns out, all that is just whipped cream on top of the cake of living with him.  Just having another person in the house (downstairs playing guitar at the moment) has done wonders for my mental health.  When I get home, someone asks me how my day was.  When I wake up, there’s already-made coffee waiting for me, or else I have someone to make coffee for.  When I talk aloud, there is someone else’s ear to hear what I’m saying.  I am only just realizing how co-dependent my personality is; I was recently struck with a flashback of an eight year old me only being capable of practicing violin if my mom was sitting in the same room, even if she paid no attention whatsoever.  But living with someone is definitely the way to go.  I can even watch movies now that were too scary to watch when living alone.  And Luca is great.  He makes me laugh and gives me good advice and teaches me Italian obscenities.

            Luca’s arrival also signified the official marriage of the American and Italian social worlds.  Now if Lee and I are ever going out or making dinner together, we automatically invite Luca and Lillo to join, and vice versa.  Goodbye, isolation and loneliness!  I’m a social butterfly.  Last Monday, we had a Bafang expat dinner of homemade pizza (thank you Lillo)!  Yesterday, Lee and I hosted an expat pancake breakfast!  Food and friends are clearly all it takes to turn this frown upside down.

           

On top of those two major changes, everything is generally going well.  For one week in June, I helped Becky, Lara, and Danielle with their sleepover camp in Bansoa.  It was good for me to see a camp in action for my own planning purposes, but most of all, it was a ton of fun.  They had 25 girls aged 14-17, all of whom were exceptional in every way.  They reminded me of my own time as a camper as they hugged each other and us on the last day, lamenting “but when will I see you again!!??”  They braided our hair and whispered after lights out and asked us to teach them American dances.  They wrote a really remarkable and touching song to perform at the final ceremony, the chorus of which states “Ma priorité est d’être éduquée [my priority is to get educated]” and they each put a condom on a wooden penis as part of their final evaluation, most of them without laughing.  I was really glad to get to help out with the camp and get to know this outstanding group of girls!

            Another fun week was hosting some of the new group of trainees on their site visit.  Between Lee and me, we had a group of five of them.  They were all really nice and a lot of fun, and Lee and I had a good time spoiling them with macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, Nutella crepes, a trip to a beautiful local resort which feels much more like Europe than Cameroon, and not enforcing their usual 7 pm curfew.  We all donned our stars and stripes to watch the US lose to Germany in the world cup and overall the whole time was a blast.  We reminded them repeatedly not to get their hopes up because no post will ever live up to the expectations we just set in Bafang.

            And I went to the Adamaoua region for a trip!  Comprehensive entry to come.

            Also my family is coming to visit in three weeks!  I am getting excited and have an extensive excel spreadsheet to plan.

            And, generally, after 8 months in Bafang, I feel at home.  I’m finally mastering negotiating prices – when, how, and how far to push it.  Cultural norms like the importance of greetings, sharing food, giving gifts, and calling people by their titles even when it seems really weird (“Thank you, Mr. The Delegate, have a good evening Mr. The Delegate.”) are becoming more and more comfortable.  Although I had reached the sad conclusion that I just didn’t like Cameroonian food, this has gradually flipped and now I get cravings for cous cous and sauce d’arachide, and am gorging myself on prunes until the season is over.  I’ve even come around on ndole!  When I walk around town, I generally feel like I have a rapport with people and that, while I will always be different, I’m at home.

Not all is right with the world.  Boko Haram continues to be a scary, looming threat.  Because of increasing activity, the North region was just evacuated of all volunteers, displacing some good friends who had put down roots and grown attached to their communities.  Meanwhile, Peace Corps Guinea, Sierra Leone, and Liberia have been evacuated for Ebola.  And as a PCV’s death last year is hitting the news, people are raising concerns about the quality of Peace Corps medical care.  And all that stuff is pretty shitty.  But still, in my personal sphere, things are going well.  It may be the peak of rainy season, but I’m walking on sunshine.  The spring is back in my step, as I bounce around Bafang, whistling and reveling at the beauty and wonders around me.  And it feels good!