Last Day au village

I woke up after a restful sleep around 8am, without an alarm, of course, and put on my running shoes for one last jog down my favorite path. The crisp air made for a comfortable jog. I took noticed of each house that I ran by and took in each rolling hill that I passed. I will unlikely to have a regular running path this beautiful for years to come. I waved at villagers along the way that I often see; likely the last time I would see those faces again.

Returned home and heated water in the small marmite for one final bucket bath in my latrine. I remember my very first bucket bath - in the same latrine, during site visit two years ago. Back then, I found it to be a treat but slightly awkward. But now, I am so at ease with this process; it had became a basic routine.

Billy, my neighbor boy, came by the house and hung out with me like he always does. But there was a hint of sadness. He helped me wash floors for the last time and counted the money he had earned and saved in his jar. "if it wasn't for you, this money would've been long gone," he said. He had learn the value of saving; that was my small contribution to his life.

I took down the mosquito net and pictures on the wall in my bedroom. Still felt like any other day, but today is the last day.

Headed into town to drop off some things my friend had bought from me, then stopped by the omelet shack for a sandwich. One littler girl was going on about the different patois that she speaks because her parents are from two different towns. She spoke in an adult manner and it made us laughed. I stopped by the phone credit lady to get some MTN credit for my phone before hopping on a moto to come home.

Billy came by again soon after I got home and we hung out more. He kept asking me what I was doing with different things that I am leaving behind, and I got slightly annoyed. He's still a kid after all. I gave him some cookies and he was happy. Liz came by in the afternoon to pick up my fridge with Emmanuel, my moto guy. We chatted. Eman tied the fridge on the back of his moto the way he used to tie my gas bottle. I told Eman to come back and pick me up after dropping Liz off in Baham.

Around 5pm, we went into town. I waved at kids at the water pump as I do every time I go by. I visited all the usual boutiques that I always visit, but this time, it was to say goodbye. An incredibly strange feeling. People you see everyday, and suddenly, I won't see them for a long long time, or ever. The goodbyes were strange, but weren't particularly sad, until I got to my bar with mama Chantal and my friends were there for one final drink.

I ordered one last poisson braisée with baton de manioc and drank a coke - a typical dinner that I've had numerous times. This was the last. My friends gathered and said great things about me and hope for wonderful things for my future. We made sure to exchange contact information one last time. As people started to leave, I could no longer pull myself together and was a teary mess. Mama Chantal put her arm around me and said to not cry, it's just parting, no one died. But to me, it feels that a part of me is being cut off. Everyone comforted me and said that I go back to school, and in the future, I'll come back. Of course I think that as well, but we all know that life isn't always that straight forward. Despite all my good intention to return, there is no guarantee.

Tomorrow, I will make the trip to Bafoussam as I've done many many times. Except this time, it's for good. Batié has became my home. Each time that I travel,  I am comforted to know that this is the place I can come home to. After each trip, despite of the length of the journey, I am always relieved to be on that moto ride from the carrefour to my house. But tomorrow, this home base will be there no more, and my life as a globetrotter continues.

Passing On the Torch

Tomorrow is my last full day in village. I am nervous and am not sure that I am ready to leave. Though I am realizing that perhaps one is never ready to leave a situation as this. I just simply gotta "pull the band-aid off" so to speak. So many emotions. It has been a wild ride. Try as I may, words are simply insufficient in describing how I feel. Last week, I hosted several volunteers who came through on site visit, one of them was my replacement. Showing them around made me see even more clearly the beauty of my village and life here in general.

I've been waiting to meet my replacement and show her around throughout the better part of my service. So much so that when the idea of canceling site visit for trainees was proposed at our Steering Committee meeting, I fought hard to keep it. I still so vividly remember my own site visit from two years ago and how helpful it was to get into the right mindset for the remaining time in training and have something to look forward to. The biggest problem I see in the work of Peace Corps volunteer is continuity, and I see site visits as an important element for information exchange.

It was exciting to speak in person with the person who will take over my projects, and integrate into a community that I've grown to love so much. Cristina was full of energy and I was excited to introduce her to everyone and show her the ropes. I didn't realize just how many people I know until Cristina was scribbling everything into a notepad, as to not forget. In answering all of her questions, I realized how much I've became an expert with life here in Cameroon. I left her a detailed post book full of tips. Everything from traveling, to shopping, getting water, bathing, using the latrine, finding help, where to buy certain things. All the basic things about life here needs an explanation. Nothing is simple and obvious. There is no one stop shopping and no directory of services. Other volunteers are your directory.

Besides the everyday stuff, I took Cristina to meet many of the work contacts that I've established over these past two years. Who you know always help facilitate things no matter where you are, but here in Cameroon, the difference can be night and day. We met with the mayor and he even took us to lunch. Cristina wanted a social media tutorial from me, so I gave her a quick lesson on blogging and twitter. Hopefully through these different mediums, I'll be able to see the progress of this community.

Even within the past two years, big improvements have already occurred, mostly thanks to the wonderful mayor. I didn't realized this until I was pointing out different things for Cristina. Things that exist now in Batié but didn't exist when I got here: a cyber café, more power lines in farther out neighborhoods, new cobbler at the carrefour, more stable power supply, better MTN réseau - I now can talk on the phone in the  comfort of my own bed and not have to run outside every time the phone rings. All the buildings got a fresh coat of paint this past year. There are now 3 places to make photocopies instead of one. Few more tailors have set up shot and also a new coiffeur at the small carrefour by my house.

Slowly, but surely. As they say in French "petite à petite" or in Pidgin, "small small catch monkey".

Send Off

Few weeks ago, Antoine, a driver for the Peace Corps who happens to be the chief of my quartier threw me a going-away party at his house. True to Cameroonian form, I was unaware of the time and whether I was suppose to invite people myself until the day before the event. I was running all around town on that Friday prior, contacting all my friends and people whom I've worked with and informing them to come for my send off "tomorrow at 2pm". I received a lot of, "that's kind of a late notice, but I'll do my best". Usually, when you hear that in the US, that means, "um yeah, I won't be there". Since there were also lots of funérailles happening and various events on the same day, I was expecting for a small gathering with some villagers, instead, I was faced with a FÊTE!

People trickled in slowly. While not on time, the party was well on its way an hour in - this is amazing for a Cameroonian event. I think my friends have all been well-conditioned to my on-timeness. Those 100 CFA fine for tardiness is paying off!

The mayor and his secretary general presented me with three traditional kabbas. Antoine's family prepared a huge feast. My landlord showered the event with champagne. I was symbolically presented with a set of twins in hope that I will have lots of kids and return for a visit in the future. Friends came in from Yaoundé just for the party. People sang my praises for FIVE hours. If it wasn't for the sporadic jokes about me staying and never going back in between, I don't know how I would have held it together. All of my close friends from the village made it despite the crazy events that were occurring simultaneously that day in village.

I was really touched by the speeches that people gave. They made me realize that people do notice the work that I had done and are incredibly appreciative of it. The positive energy gave me hope again in development work and reassured my decision to pursue graduate studies in international development.

Later in the week, I was in Bafoussam and ran into one of my previous business students that no longer lives in village. I told him about my departure, and few days later, he phoned to tell me that he had left me a gift at the local bar. Today, I picked it up and it was a beautiful wood-carving hanging. As I was packing, gifts of appreciation from my time here filled my bag. They mean so much more to me than any souvenir that I could possibly purchase. I am going to miss this country despite its quirkiness, and there will always be a place in my heart for the village of Batié. I hope to do all that I can to pay a visit in 5 years and see how it has evolved.

The End Is Near

Earlier this evening, I was working on my post book for my replacement. This is a document filled with a wealth of information about my village and life in general in Cameroon - anything from the minor kinks of the house to where to buy grocery, my favorite bar lady, moto guy, etc. Life here isn't so obvious, and it has taken me two years to really get the hang of it. As I was compiling this document, I became really, really sad - tears falling sad.

I am 23 years old, turning 24 in a few months. By the time I leave Cameroon, I will have spent approximately 10% of my life here. That's not a small amount. These past two years were the longest time I have resided in one single place since high school. This wasn't just some adventure to a foreign land for a few months, this was my life, for two years.

The key element that makes this ending so much more difficult than the rest is that I likely won't be returning to this country for many many years. Most people in this village can barely operate a cell phone. Needless to say, I won't be emailing with them or skype-ing any time soon, or ever. The neighbor kids have been coming by everyday and asking how much longer I will be here. They have a sad look on their faces and it breaks my heart.

The sadness is two-fold. Besides my village, wonderful people have came into my life - other Peace Corps volunteers, French volunteers, my Chinese family that have so graciously welcomed me into their home. While keeping in touch with these people will be easier than villagers, when I leave Cameroon, this chapter of our friendship will also end. We will go on our separate ways, and life will never again be the same.

This morning, Emmanuel, my moto guy and I got trapped by the rain at the lycée. It reminded me of last year when the exact same thing happened. And like the last time, I also forgot a book (I never learn my lesson). We were trapped there for over an hour, but this time, I embraced it. This would likely be the last time I will ever be trapped somewhere and unable to leave due to rain.

My life has been changed in a deep and profound way from these two years. I see humanity differently, appreciate everyday for simply being alive, and thankful for the simple things in life. When things get rough in the future, I hope to always think back on this period of my life when I was happy when I get the chance to take a hot shower or even just having running water. The excitement and relief when power finally comes back on after a long outage.

Life is short. Time flies. May events in life continue to shake and change me as they did these past two years.

Celebrating Women's Day

The Indomitable Lions is the Cameroonian national football (or soccer) team, but the real national sport is drinking at a bar. There are more bars in Cameroon than any other type of enterprise. Even if you find yourself in the middle of nowhere with no food in sight, there will likely be a shack selling bottles of Castel, 33, or other Cameroonian favorites.

This national sport ties in conveniently to the celebration of any holiday here in Cameroon, no matter the occasion. Christmas? New Years? Bar. Youth Day? Bar. So it was no exception that this past Monday on International Women's Day, the celebration took place at? yes, bars.

As the name indicates, International Women's Day is suppose to be the day that honors women. Last year, I attended the parade where women were told to obey their husband. I figured, seen it once, seen it all. This year, being the bien intégrée volunteer that I am, I joined the majority of the women by skipping the parade altogether and headed straight for the party.

 Mama Chantal! 

She smiles a lot more in person!

Mama Chantal, my favorite bar lady who also serves as my village mom invited me over for a homemade meal at her house. After filling our tummy with food, we headed for the bar. In theory, Women's Day is suppose to be full of activities that  empower women. But in village reality, women get outfits made out of this year's Women's Day pagne and have a wicked good time into the wee hours. It's the few occasions that they can be free of their house duties and have a good time.

Bamiléké Mamas Sure Can Move

And good times we had! Dancing with these village mamas is definitely one of my favorite moments of Peace Corps. I will dearly miss these "holidays" in the future. The party went on well into the night, but unfortunately I had an early meeting in Bafoussam the following day, so I had to wrap up my share of party not long after the nightfall. Nonetheless, good times were had by all!

Just had to add in this picture

Mama Chantal's Kids. SO cute! 

The Beauty of Village

Lately, my mood has been swinging between the two extremes: a.) very sad that the end of Peace Corps service is upon me and b.) can NOT wait to get out of Cameroon and begin the next chapter of my life. The mood swings are making me feel a bit bi-polar-esque. Some days I feel I'm on a standstill and extremely anxious to begin new adventures. But other days, I am reminded just why I love my village. Saturday was one of those days. And these great moments have kept me sane throughout my service, and they are keeping me grounded during these last anxious days. Unlike any other adventure, Cameroon is one place that I likely will not return for a long time to come. Must remember that. I snapped some photos on one of my walks as a reminder.


Princess Mariya, one of my current students in my class, invited me over for some Bamoun cuisine. I thought it was rather odd that she refers to herself as a Princess until I found out she is a member of the royal family in Foumban. A royal family twice removed, that is. When one mentions the Royal Family, the image that naturally rises in people's minds are the handsome Prince William and the elegant Queen Elizabeth. Not quite the same here in Cameroon, especially in the West region where every other person you meet is a chief of some sort.


Anyway, unlike the Bamiléké tribe where we live in, Mariya is from the Bamoun tribe that is heavily influenced with the Muslim culture. She invited me over to eat some couscous and gumbo. Which, if you are a volunteer reading this, you probably made some kind of ugly face. Couscous and gumbo aren't the tastiest of meals for the American/Chinese palette. Luckily the Bamoun version of couscous & gumbo is better than the Bamiléké version - less snot-esque.


The meal was good fun. We chatted about various things. Later, two more of her teacher friends stopped by, and both happened to be former students of mine in the same business class. We had some lively discussions about business opportunities in Batié, general business classes, the courses I teach, and the like. I love the sense of community here. There is an overwhelming request for me to do a final tour of business classes before I leave. It's heart-warming. Yet I must see if I will have adequate time to squeeze in another series! Despite how anxious I may be on some days to leave this place behind, I know I will be very sad when that moment actually arrives.

The Little Things

Now that I've decided on my next move, I'm getting increasingly more anxious with the rest of my time here in Cameroon. Yet at the same time, I am trying to take in every last bit of this love-hate relationship that I've developed with Cameroon.

Some things in the past few days that I want to remember:

• The drive from Bafoussam to Batié. This is 30-45 minute ride is one that I take very frequently and over the past 20 months, I've now gotten quite comfortable. I almost always sit in the front passenger seat, meaning I only need to be squished with one other person. And if I get lucky, this person is skinny and I'm riding (relatively) comfortably. The ride is beautiful, and I made a mental note that I will take a video of it before I leave.
  
  
• I have grown to be practically immune to bugs. I don't even bother to get up and kill bugs when I see them now. It's too much work. I simply let them roam freely in my house. Luckily, I have lots of little lizard friends who are around to eat the bugs. These lizards remind me of childhood in Taiwan, so comforting also in that way. Few nights ago, a lizard attacked one of the biggest spider I've EVER seen in my entire life. And friends, I've seen a lot of freaking large spiders, this one was special. Little lizard somehow was able to attack this spider that is bigger than himself and proceed to start swallow/eat it. I sat in my chair and watched this live attack going down. Who needs National Geographic when I have this happening 3 feet from me?
  
  
• I was running today and neighborhood kids were sliding down a sandy hill with various lids/tubs, then climbing back up the hill, and repeat the act. This immediately reminded me of going sledding in the snow! Appropriately enough, it is still winter in the Northern hemisphere. People do the same things. Black or white. Snow or sand.
  
  
• Recently discovered that eating locally produced roasted peanuts and Mambo (local, I think, chocolate) bar simultaneously really closely mimics peanut M&Ms! Wish I had discovered this earlier. But, I still won't mind if you send me peanut M&Ms. :)

That is all. And lastly, I recently received an email from a prospective PCV who shares the same Taiwanese-American background. Not many Asians join the Peace Corps and I was happy to discuss with her my experience and provide some insights. I try to be meticulous about keeping up with this blog because I enjoyed reading others' experiences while applying. If you are a prospective PCV reading this, let me know what kind of info you would like me to write or to add. And of course, I'm always happy to answer questions via email!

Une Vraie Africaine

After nearly 20 months of being in Cameroon, I finally gave in and got some dreads on my head. I never really had any real special interest in getting the hair done, but I figured it's one of those things that I simply must experience before leaving. So, just before launching my 3rd round of business classes in village, I spent the entire day "becoming African".

My friend Bibian is a hairdresser and she has been asking me about getting my hair done for months. Naturally, she was thrilled when I told her I'll finally take the plunge. So, Monday morning, we found ourselves at the local bar that I frequent and began the long process of hair-braiding.

True to Cameroonian form, Bibian told me she works really fast and it'd only take 3 hours or so. To which I was extremely skeptical since I have heard nothing but excruciating long hours from other girls. For some, it's even a 2-day event. From hour 1 of the process, Bibian kept saying, "see? it's really fast, we'll be done soon". This is SO Cameroonian. It's much like when they tell you, "yeah, yeah, I am on my way", but then don't show up until an hour or two later.

The Beginning

Naturally, it came to be 5pm and we were finally putting the finishing touches on my rasta. By this time, mamas who were walking by would come and help tying up the ends. At one point, there were 4 women working on my head. Of course, Bibian said, "well it's only because you have so much hair that it takes so long." riiight. Always take their indicator of time with a grain of salt and add on 3 hours or more. Time is absolutely not money in this culture.

Hour 6

In the end, this was really fun experience. During the 6 hours of hair-braiding, villagers would stop by to comment on how good it looks on me and how I'm becoming a real African. And of course, "now that you are becoming a real African, you should definitely get married here and not go home."

Bibian & Me

The demand for me to stay in country has been overwhelming these past few days since I got the hair done. Everyone from village mama, to sketchy men, to the governor of the West Region advised that it's best that I do not go back to the U.S.

Yes, the governor. I met with him yesterday with Théo´in regard to the Books For Cameroon project. During the meeting, Théo mentioned that I will be ending my service in about 6 months, to which the governor said, "what are you doing going back to the States? You should get married here and stay! Sure there are some dust, but the climate is great!" We continued to talk about the project, and at the end of the meeting, he walked us to the door and said, "I hope you will take my advice and stay here. You can go home to get married, but come back here to live." Théo said he must have been impressed by me because he invited us to his "salon" instead of his "bureau", and the "salon" is supposedly for special guests only. Funny Cameroonians.

Now, the beauty is not without a cost. Besides the fact it took 6 hours, my scalp also hurt a great deal during the first night from the weight of all the fake hair and I couldn't do anything but to lay horizontally on my bed to ease the pain. The pain, however, is really worth it because the villagers, and even my friends in Bafoussam love it so much! This is definitely one of those "I will miss Cameroon" moments.

Celebrating Old Age

This past weekend my rich neighbor had a BIG fête! My moto guy is a family member of this rich neighbor and they live in the same concession. He informed me of this rare event that occurs only once every 5 years or so - a fête to celebrate the elders in the family that reached 70 years old.

For weeks, the rich neighbor's house have had workers layering bricks on the cement barriers, and all sorts of other work. The event was a 3-day ordeal. Friday evening was the Bamiléké traditional dance where villagers not only got out their outfits, but also the animal skin, horns, the works! Most of the neighbors all gathered to see the event, especially the kids.


The next day, I was invited to the mass ceremony honoring the elders. When they told me mass, I thought they meant we'd all meet and then go to a church. But oh no, how wrong I was. They meant they'll bring the church to their gigantic courtyard - and they did. It was mighty impressive!

The makeshift church - pretty legit looking!

Church Choir was there - all pretty in... pink?

People like my neighbor makes me realize that people here have A LOT of money. However, the distribution of wealth is all off (kind of the case everywhere in the world, right?). My motor guy, Emmanuel, who is a part of the family, does not enjoy any of the wealth and he works all day on his moto and gain a measly pay.

Anyway, I attended the mass and then the big dinner afterward. It would have been fun to stay and dance with people, but with all the guests (more than 500), I was pretty lost among all the people I didn't know. So instead of sticking around, I retired to my house soon after dinner. This is when I really miss having a buffer. When Juliette was in village, we would go to things like this and hang out with each other while have a blast with villagers. Unfortunately without her, it's not quite the same, and doesn't feel as safe...

Radio on TV!

Two weekends ago, the Cameroon's national football (soccer) team was playing the final qualifying match against Morocco for the World Cup. The number one national sport in this country is drinking beer, and the second is watching football, while drinking beer. Naturally, this was a big deal.

I headed to Dschang to hand out with Clotilde, a French girl I know. Dschang is a really fun university town about an hour or so from me. Somehow I managed to spend 15 months in the west region of Cameroon and never made it out there, so on this day, I decided to finally pay a visit.

I arrived just in time for the match to begin. We crowded in a typical Cameroonian bar ready to watch the match on TV. I've mentioned before that while I am not a fan of football, I am a fan of watching guys watching football. And Cameroonian football fans are quite entertaining in their own special ways.

The game began, yet all you see on TV was the words: Cameroun # Maroc. And the broadcaster was relating the game in gibberish that supposedly was French. After a bit of confusion, I understood that apparently the Cameroonian national television (CRTV) did not purchase the rights of image broadcasting.

Now, imagine that. I was impressed on how calm people were. While they were disappointed, their reaction was more of a "on va faire comment?" (well what are you gonna do?) Imagine Superbowl Sunday with no image broadcasting? Serious riots would go down. I did thoroughly enjoy the comments from the men, "well, it's like in the 1960's when we had to crowd around the radio and then translate to people who didn't speak French." or "welcome to Cameroon, we have Radio on TV!"

Village Justice

Back in March, I eluded to the justice system in village, and the amusing ways that news get around. Last week, I was once again reminded just how things operate here, and how different it is from the justice system that we are so used to in the modern world.

Last Monday, on my way to Market Day, my moto guy pointed at the Gendarme car that was parked outside someone's house as we drove through. He asked if I heard the news, I said no. Apparently, the night before, a 18-year old chopped off the head of his 6 year-old brother with a machete, because someone told him the heads can get him a lot of money.

Friends, this is not a story you read in some African story book. This happened down the street from me.

I was pretty stunned by the news, but then quickly wrote it off as just another misfortune that often occurs in village. Few days later, I was on another moto, and I inquired what happened to the 18-year old. My moto friend Charlie, replied nonchalantly, "oh, we beat him until he died." Just like that. Almost as if how silly of me to even ask such question. What else would they do? Of course this kid was going to live another day after having done something like that.

This gives our death penalty debate in the U.S. a whole other perspective, huh? Yes, granted the crime committed here in Cameroon, especially in villages, are usually not very elaborate and not intricately planned to the point where advanced forensics are required to find out the offender. Yet, even if we know someone committed murder with 100% certainty, there is no way we would just "beat him until he dies" in the U.S., or most places in the modern world.

Few days later, I invited the new volunteers over for some American goodness (onion rings, ranch potatoes, salad) and one told me she heard the village story on BBC or some mainstream news. I was quite surprised. I mean, I suppose a kid getting his head chopped off is a pretty big deal. Julie told me that the news mentioned something about albino's and that there is some sort of sorcery relating to albino body parts. So later, I verified with another moto guy and he said no the kid was just a regular kid, not albino, but he was doing it for money.

Anyway, moral of the story - village justice is crazy business! Don't kill someone in a small village, because the villagers will beat you to death. And if you can't tell, moto guys are my primary source of village gossip! ahh, I will miss this sense of community, albeit crazy!

Blog Action Day: Cold in Africa

I really didn't plan on writing a blog post for this year's Blog Action Day because I honestly don't have all that much to say about climate change. But I think the weather this week wanted me to. We are now heading toward the end of October, and normally here in Cameroon, that means the beginning of dry season - months without rain, the heat, dust everywhere, dry season sickness - oh the horror. However, this past week, you would have thought we were in June - the midst of rainy season.

Like any culture, talking about the weather is the primary subject of small talk. This past week or so, everyone in village has been commenting on the bizarre weather this year - the constant rain and low temperature. I am not sure if I've just acclimated to the weather or it really is colder, but two days ago, I found myself bundled up in a cashmere sweater, sweat pants, socks and a fleece blanket while sitting with a cup of hot tea because it felt like winter where there is snow on the ground.

The temperature was likely only 60 degree at most, and this means this next winter, when I will actually spend it somewhere with snow, I may just freeze over. Anyway, the point is the abnormality of the weather. Whether or not the globe is warming up and the North Pole is melting away, the climate is absolute not the same. Is this the natural progression and evolution or is this due to our carbon footprint? I don't know. This is why I wasn't going to write a post - I don't have anything intelligent to say regarding the matter.

What I do know is, while this may not effect the everyday lives of people in the industrial world, its effect is immediate in places where agriculture is the main source of livelihood, such as with people in my village. In the rainy season, the rain usually comes in the afternoon, so people plan to go into the farm in the morning to work and return home before the afternoon downpour. But these past two weeks, the rain comes whenever it feels like it. People have no way of planning their days.

Few days ago, I took a moto to visit the lycée regarding my library project. The lycée in Batié is sort of in the mountains and not very easy to get to. Just as I was wrapping up with the meeting, the rain came, and not the typical rainy season rain where it pours for 15 minutes and stops. This was the annoying London kind of rain where it rains continuously and just hard enough where I couldn't take the moto back; I had no other option but to wait. So I waited - for three hours. On this particular day, I made the fatal mistake of forgetting my book at home. Those were three very long hours.

The repeated conversation I've had with villagers this week about the strange weather motivated me to write this not-so-in-depth post on climate change. Whether it's getting cold or getting hot - the weather is changing, and already affecting lives of people in some corners of the world.

You just never know!

Current Mood: Uggghhaaahhh I am SO sick of begging for money.

My goal to fund Phase I of Books For Cameroon by the end of September is unlikely to happen, unless either an amazing, generous philanthropist decides to donate $3.5k in the next 24 hours, OR, if by some bizarre miracle, 700 people decide to donate their next $5 latte/beer in the next 24 hours.

I am somewhat disappointed; however, I suppose raising $5,000 within a month still wasn't too bad of an effort, considering it took 3 months to raise the first $3,000. At least, I have been learning a great deal and showing progress. That's the important thing, right? Or so I tell myself. Ça va aller.

Okay, now I got that out of my system, let's talk village life.

A journalist once asked me to describe my "typical day" as a Peace Corps volunteer. That, I have decided, is simply impossible to define. The constant surprises are both the beauty of life as a volunteer, yet also the source of many frustrations. Last Friday, I went into Bafoussam for banking and other various errands. The car ride from my village to Baf. is only 30 minutes. Yet, we stopped in Baham - a town near my village - to pick up more clients and we waited there for an hour. Unexpected frustration. I was once again reminded that time is not money here and the term "opportunity cost" means nothing for the most part.

Yet when there is bad, there is good. Yesterday, I had a pretty productive Sunday of studying for the GRE and getting work done. Late afternoon, I made my way into town. The weather was gorgeous, so I enjoyed the walk and took in the tranquility that Batié has to offer. While in town, I had a Schweppes Ginger while waiting for my grilled fish. Meanwhile, had some funny conversation with villagers. One guy was trying to give me a hard time about the fact I can't speak Batié even after a year. And everyone else in the bar defended for me saying I had to learn French, and what in the world would I do with Batié after I leave? Funny villagers.

I got home and just as I situated myself for a movie while eating my fish, Billy and Loïc came by. Apparently there was a big dance event at the rich neighbor's house that I had to go see. So I took my camera and off I went with the kids. There I saw the group of villagers dressed in traditional Bamiléké fabric and getting ready for a big dance. Turns out Le Grand had invited white people to come observe this village tradition, and that's why there were all the fuss.


Just about everyone from the quartier were there, and ALL the kids were around. They love getting their pictures taken and I created a bit of a chaos when I asked Billy & Loïc to take pictures of me and the little ones. There were ALL over me. You would've thought I was running a daycare in Africa or something. So funny.


I hung out with the kids for the most part; they are so much fun. The dances were going on with the traditional musick; not much different from the others I've seen, but extra special since it was in my village and people dancing were my friends. Later, I saw the "white people". They apparently were a group of priests from all over the world were in Yaoundé for a week, and they are friends with Le Grand's wife. I met them briefly. It was really weird, even for me, to see all these white people in Batié!

So that was an interesting turn of events to my quiet night with a movie. Today, while I was getting some work done, neighbor came to knock on the door and invited me over for lunch. You don't turn down food when offered here, so off I went! The group of missionaries was also there. Also, my amazing, non-corrupt mayor was also present. It was a mini-UN right there in the living room with English, French, German, Spanish being spoken, and people from France, Spain, Fiji, South Korea, and other exotic places. I chatted briefly with the missionaries about my work and they told me a bit about their stay. It was really cool to find such an international setting right in my village, and I got a real kick out of my mayor speaking German. And just like that, an unexpected Monday afternoon!

Since I've been utilizing the RPCV network to seek funding for my project, I've had the chance to read many profiles of RPCVs. The common theme that I've extracted is that Peace Corps is the best two years of their lives and they have very fond memories for years after. I don't doubt that to hold true for me as well, but I wonder if the experience must stop after these two years, or will I be able to continue create memories that will be just as good as these two years, if not better?

Rain. Love It. Hate It.

I love the rainy season for several reasons. For starter, when it rains, I can stay in like rest of the population here. "It's raining" is a perfectly valid excuse to not do anything. The rain washes away the dirt and everything is less dirty. My house is not constantly covered by a layer of dust. Although my feet are still always dirty because the rain causes the mud to get all over the place. On a side note, the other day I realized that I have not worn closed-toe shoes in over a year. The thought of wearing high-heels is very foreign, and the fact I just typed hell instead of heel clearly reflects my feeling on this subject.

Since it's still the summer and my water boys are on vacation, the rain allows me to just put a bucket out rather than going to the pump and fetch water myself. That is a definite big plus. Finally, there is nothing more soothing than a cold rainy day when I can wrapped myself up in a sweater, read a book or get work done without interruption. I have really learned to love the rain since my time here.

However, nothing is ever so perfect. The one terrible thing about the rainy season is that my clothes takes forever to dry. When the sun does come out, it's deceiving. I put my clothes out on the line, and the next thing I know, I had forgotten about them and they are soaked in rain. But clothes are one thing, I wring them dry and it's okay. Now, bedsheets are a whole different story.

There are some things we as PCVs have to do that you may not remember. And washing your bedsheets by hand is such task. By hand, without running water. First it takes all of my energy and then some to wash the sheets and wring them dry by hand. Then I catch the small window that the sun is out to put my sheets out on the line. On this particular Sunday, I did just that, then began doing some work on the computer. Working so consciously that I completely forgot about the sheets. Several hours and many pouring session of rain later, I suddenly thought of them. Inappropriate words came out in all four languages I know. I was not a happy camper.

The problem with the sheets is that they hang lower, so when the rain pours, mud gets all over them. Not only are my sheets now soaks, I will have to repeat the entire process over again. Fan-freaking-tastic.

The rain. I love it and I hate it. This must the what they mean by "can't have your cake and eat it, too".

Jesus Party!

The one trait I've strengthened during my time in Peace Corps is to think VERY quickly on my feet to accommodate all sorts of unexpected situations.

Weeks ago, while preparing to begin my second round of business classes, I got approval from the Secretary General at the Mayor's Office to use the meeting space. I delivered a protocol letter with exact dates and time. The Mayor signed it. I got the OK.

Last Friday, Mr. SG told me I need to switch keys with him because there is a church event taking place this week and I would need to use the smaller room. Not a problem. I figured it's just a sort of meeting or another.

Yesterday afternoon, I arrived at the carrefour at 4pm and I found a band set up in front of the building entryway. They were prepared to blare some serious gospel music. I had 30 minutes until my class begin. Oh Crap. If you've ever been to any Cameroonian event, you know when it comes to music, it is about quantity (how loud can we blare it) and not quality. And if you've been into any kind of Cameroonian buildings, you know soundproof does not exist.

For 15 minutes, I walked up and down the carrefour feeling frustrated that no one informed me of the happening. I went into the bank, and my counterpart happens to be the one organizing this event. I asked him if the Mayor knew about this musical glory happening at the same time as my class. He said, "oh yeah". Then I looked at the flyer, and of course it was not clearly stated that there would be a sort of concert taking place at this time. I proceeded to give Mr. SG a call, and naturally, he had no idea of this. Great.

4:25pm. I walked into my class and explained the situation to my students. We decided to rough it out. By closing all the doors, we were able to keep the noise out somewhat, and I carried on teaching them basic accounting. Ironically, the last class was about goals and action plans. So I pointed out how this is a perfect example of poor planning, and they agreed.

I left my class feeling amused and somewhat entertained when I saw all the villagers dancing to the gospel. I am not sure how much gospel they really are absorbing, and how much they are just there for a good time. Either way, the ambiance was fun. And once again, only in Cameroon.

This is how we do it

I may have Internet, and I may be Posh Corps, but there are certain moments that distinctly remind me that I am indeed, still en afrique.

This morning, I woke up to Antoine beeping me and then banging on my door at 7:30am. In case I haven't explained the concept of "beeping", it's when people call you, let it ring once or twice and then hang up before you pick up. Purpose? So you will call them back and therefore it doesn't cost them anything. The practice is very strange for us Americans, since for some bizarre reason, we, for the most part, have to pay for calls that you make and receive.

Anyway, Antoine is the Peace Corps driver, also the chief of my quartier (neighborhood). In some ways, he is sort of like my dad in village. He's not here often, but when he is, he takes care of business for me. I went to the door, he wanted to know if people can still sign up for my business class. I said yes, but before Thursday afternoon. Also he wanted to tell me he caught the kid who stole my sandals and that he will bring the kid to come return them and apologize. Very cute. But was it necessary at 7:30am? I am not a Cameroonian. I do not wake up for no apparent reason at 5am.

Lately, my water supply has been running a bit low. Since the rain often comes in the afternoon now, the kids don't come by to get me water. But with the rain, I can just catch it with a bucket. Late afternoon rain came and it is absolutely pouring out. There is a spot on the side of my house where the water comes down like a faucet, but it requires me going around the house. So picture this, I am holding an umbrella, but still getting wet, hopping to the side of my house to catch water with this bucket. Return inside to empty water in the big bucket. Repeat. This happeend about 4 times until I had adequate supply of water. The whole time I was thinking, "The things I do in Africa. This is absurd but funny. And I will probably miss it."

Small Luxuries

The one thing I know I will miss when I return to the "real world" is the way I find delight in the most minute details of life here.

My friend Jérémy, the last of the Frenchies in my area, is leaving in a few weeks and he left the village for good a few days ago. Sad times. Saying goodbye really doesn't get easier. It's one of the few aspects I dislike about being a globetrotter. I suppose I can't have my cake and eat it, too. The only good thing that came out of Jérémy's departure is his gift to me - the antenna for Camtel (Cameroon Telecommunication - my Internet provider). My village is mountainous and my house is situated in this funny dip where I get very little reception. The antenna now provides me with faster Internet - still no DSL or Cable speed, but hey, I'll take what I can get!

Later the same day, Kate came over to print certificates for her business class. Since I am posh corps, I bought myself a printer way back when - so worth it! Especially since the one photocopy place in village doesn't work more than half of the time. I tried to make copies 4 times last week (still cheaper than printer from printer) and either the electricity was cut, or they ran out of ink, or out of paper, or not open. Absurd.

Anyway, Kate came over and since her village is more like mini-town. I asked her to bring lettuce and cucumber. I still had a package of stove top stuffing left (thanks Megan!), and she brought over instant mashed potato and gravy! To top it off, she also bought two chicken legs from the chicken lady in her town. Yes, we had a faux-Thanksgiving and it was AMAZING. :) Package food from the USA is serious luxury for us volunteers.

The Faux-Thanksgving - Pure Goodness!

The next day, I was still craving salad and by some miracle, there was a mama in town selling them! I was so excited! I hope she doesn't stop the supply!

It's the little things that really excite me!

Let the Rain Fall

We are most certainly in the midst of the rainy season here in West Cameroon. Today was a perfect rainy season day - the rain was falling ALL DAY LONG. I am not kidding. From the moment I woke up until even now, it's either pouring or drizzling. So, like any other Peace Corps volunteer who is bien intégré (well integrated), I did not leave the house. What can I say, I take my job seriously in trying to blend in with the culture. And here, on rainy days, people stay home.

I wonder when again for the rest of my life I can say, "I'm just going to stay home today, because it's rainy." I bet the folks living in London who are reading this must hate me with a passion. Sorry. I paid my dues. I lived in London, too.

So instead, I baked cookies for 3 hours today with the neighbor kid (the good one who gets water for me everyday, not the jerks that steal from me.) We, or I, went a little crazy and made two double batches. So that is, 4 batches of cookies. The flavors today were: chocolate chip & cinnamon sugar. To my defense, there were a few belated birthdays I want to make cookies for when I return to Yaoundé next week. I have, believe it or not, moved on from my making-elaborate-food-for-no-apparent-reason phase. Probably because I actually have work to do that matters. Thank goodness!

Besides the cookie baking fun, I did do some work on the computer today preparing for the business seminar I am giving and some work for Books For Cameroon. I am not a total slacker. The rain falls, but the work still go on, kind of.

I've decided to write a bit more often to capture the simple tasks of my daily life here, instead go disappearing for weeks at a time and bombard you with a vague summary of what I am doing. After all, to be cliché, life is composed of all these insignificant details, n'est-ce pas?

Emotional Rollercoaster

People probably often describe the Peace Corps experience as a roller coaster ride - full of unknowns, etc. That is undoubtedly true, but for me, the emotional roller coaster ride seems to have a greater effect than the general ambiguity of everyday life. My emotions are heightened. So when I am feeling happy, I am REALLY happy. But when I am annoyed or upset, I am SO MAD I can punch someone.

The following is a progression of my moods today. And if I was back in the "real world", I would probably be a perfect candidate for therapy.

Woke up after a perfect 10-hr beauty sleep. I had no idea how I slept so long and so well. Usually I wake up naturally after 6-8 hours. thought: My life is amazing right now. I don't ever really have to wake up to an alarm.

I made some tea. Checked email and sent off a few for my projects. Chatted for a while with a good friend currently living in South Korea. thought: I am so lucky to have Internet here. Life would be so different. I also have such great friends!

Decided it was time to go out and hang with the villagers and promote my business classes. I caught a moto into town and stopped by the City Hall and had a chat with the Secretary General. The mayor has yet signed the letter I dropped off last week. thought: typical Cameroon. It'll maybe be done next week. Not happy, but not too annoyed.

Stopped by one of my favorite bars to say hi to the bar lady. Saw mayor having beer with a few other "grands" (big, important people). thought: it's 3pm. They are drinking beer. And he didn't sign my letter. Feeling amused at the complete lack of efficiency here.

Bar lady's brother happens to be the Cameroonian gentleman who found me online a few months ago. He was in village for a visit. So I stopped by his house to say hi. Had a really nice exchange with him about my life here and projects I am doing. He was really nice and told all the villagers that we were with to take care of me. thought: The world is a small place. Made even smaller by the advent of technology. I love village life here.

Went to the other side of the village to post fliers about the business class. This is one part of the town I don't frequent much. One guy was sitting at a bar as I was posting the sign. Then he said, "give me one. I want to read it." I told him I don't have a lot to give out, but come read it here. He said, "you expect me to get up and go read it?" I said, "um, yeah." and left. thought: What the heck is wrong with people? Don't complain to me that you don't have any money when you are sitting at a bar at 4pm and you can't even muster enough energy to get your butt out of a chair to read a sign. Obviously annoyed.

Bought some flour and other things to make cookies. Lady thought I say 10 kg of flour when I actually said 2. We had a good laugh about that. though: I love village.

Getting ready to walk home, a gang of moto guys asked if I wanted a ride. I said, "oh no, I'm going to walk." Some little jerk face yelled, "oh yeah? you are going to walk? walk all the way to Bamendjou then." thought: Annoyed. Why are people assholes for no reason?

Just as the last thought was passing, a moto guy (A) that's my friend stopped to see if I got my money back. I had lended another guy (B) 27,000 cfa supposedly for his mother to go to the hospital. A month later, I had to chase him down to get the money back. Turns out, (A) president of the moto association told me that (B) borrowed 27,000 from the association. I said, "oh that's funny, cuz he only paid me 25,000." (A) was upset and said, "Oh that guy is so dishonest. This is not good. You make sure you ask him to pay you back right a way." thought: Not everyone is a jerk. Some people do care about me. Feeling rather warmed.

Then 10 minute of walk later, a girl about my age said hi to me. Then she mumbled something. I didn't get it. Then she said it again, "money, I want money." I shaked my head and walked on. thought: WHAT THE HELL? Became very angry for no real reason.

Walked the rest of the way home. Changed and went for a run. Cute mamas saying hi to me as I ran. thought: so cute! Then some guy waved and creepily gestured for me to stop and talk to him. thought: ugh. Creep! Why do you think I am going to stop running and talk to you?

Got back from the run. No power. Boiled water for shower. Took a bucket shower in the kind-of-dark latrine. thought: My life is ridiculous. Slightly amused.

Spent the rest of the night working and collaborating with people stateside on the press release of my project. Feeling very positive. thought: I am very happy right now. Life is great.

Village Love

I'm wrapped in a fleece blanket with a cup of warm jasmine tea by my side. The rainy season has finally arrived, and I couldn't be happier. Since around November, I've been suffering through the horror that is the dry season. No matter how much I clean, my house is always dirty, as are my feet. The dust is everywhere. It covers everything in the house. If I dare step outside of my house, I am instantly covered by the dust, and if a car or a moto drives by - forget it, there is no part of me that will remain clean. I get lazy with the shower, because on top of the fact it's a pain in the butt to get water/boil water/bucket bath, what's the point? I will be dirty again in 3.5 seconds. Furthermore, my respiratory system is all screwy from the dust. I take decongestants as if they were candy. This problem wouldn't be so bad if this country has more paved roads. It's a vicious cycle, you see? The roads aren't paved, the dust get people sick, and then people aren't productive. This results in people never being productive because they are too sick in the dry season, and in the rainy season? well, there is the rain! Why would one uses the umbrella and brave the rain when you can just "sit it out"?

In any case, I am so so happy the rain is upon us. I love the fresh smell of the air in the morning, the cold breeze that causes me to put on a sweater and wrap in blankets. The beginning of the rain also makes this the only month that the weather corresponds with the Northern hemisphere. April shower!

I am in a jolly good mood, even though the quiche tonight didn't turn out quite as well (evaporated milk makes all the difference..!). Today, I thought about how I will really miss this place when I have to leave it behind in roughly a year's time. Despite of all the things I miss about the modern work (tonight, I particularly missed Jazz bars and a good glass of red wine in big heavy wine glasses), I will never again live in a place where strangers are so nice to me. The more I live here, the more I am amazed at just how NICE people are. I am not talking about Cameroon, I am talking about my village. Trust me, outside of my village, people are not nice.

Apparently the kid who stole from me stole again, this time with his older brother. They were caught and put in jail. I absolutely love the fact nearly a dozen people have came and told me about this news. They all come to me with this, "I just want to make sure you know the kid got what he deserved" kind of niceness. I will miss this about village living. I will miss everyone now calling me by name - the lady that sells me my everyday things, the vegetable mama, the fruit lady, the bar ladies, the tool guy. Everyone knows my name, and they all now throw in a little something extra when I buy things. When was the last time you bought your grocery and the guy at the checkout greeted you by name and threw in extra tomatoes? Also, I love love love the kids that wave and yell my name when I am either on a moto or walking down the street. Every kid that lives along the way from my house to the carrefour has now properly learned my name. No one calls me "la blanche" any longer.

I count my blessings everyday with the people I encounter: the unbelievably nice villagers, the motivated students, the adorable kids, and then there are the fellow volunteers and the seemingly endless supply of French students/volunteers whom I can have "real" conversations with and they get my craving for a glass of really good wine and a piece of really good chocolate. My daily life here may not be at all exciting, but life in general is ever so unexpected. There hasn't been a month that gone by where I hadn't thought, "well, that was an interesting and unexpected month". I don't know too many who can say that about their lives in the world of running water, washing machines and plentiful choices. (I can't wait to get my jeans washed in a washing machine!!)