After my delightful day in Bafoussam, I had a dream that very night where I was not ready to leave. In the dream, I was not at all packed and was incredibly sad to leave my village and this part of my life behind. I woke up feeling nostalgic of the present. Is that even possible? Can you miss the life that you are still living in?
Ever since I realized that there remains only 10 precious months, I have been incredibly mindful of each and passing moment. I think it's much easier for one to let life pass by when there is no "end" in sight. For the better part of my service, I was so focused on how much more time I have left that each passing day wasn't all that significant.
Many things are on the agenda for the next 10 months and I am out to make each day count. Recently I've decided to apply for graduate schools for my time after the Peace Corps. To craft those perfect admission essays, I've been thinking a great deal on my past, and my future. In addition to my own experiences, I am relating them to issues that I am passionate about. The process has been an interesting self-reflection. Surprisingly, I am learning a lot about myself just through reflecting. Sometimes, I think we all need to take a minute to think about where we came from and what we have become.
I hope to spend some time in the near future dedicating a few blog posts on my views in the realms of microfinance, international development, social media and the like. Hopefully there will be time between cramming my brain full of GRE vocabularies, writing personal statements and continuously begging money for my library project. Stay tuned!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Delightful Monday in Bafoussam
I don't think I would've ever described a day spent in Bafoussam, the provincial capital 30 minutes away from my village, as delightful. Usually I am lucky to spend the day there without wanting to punch someone in the face. But this past Monday, it was surprisingly pleasant.
The sun was shining for the first time in weeks. I hadn't noticed it until a guy from village said this is the first day it hasn't rained in two weeks. Per usual, I was squeezed in the back seat with 3 others, but luckily my favorite fish mama was next to me. We had some nice chats. She was on her way into Bafoussam to purchase coal for her fish grilling endeavor. It never occurred to me until that moment that one can't find coal in my village. 14 months in, yet I still learn something new everyday.
The taxi made it into town without too many stops. I dropped off the copy work at my regular shop. The lady who owns this cyber café is one of the most modern and put together Cameroonian women I've ever met. She runs her business with such efficiency that blows my mind every time. We've became good friends and now she gives me my copies at a special rate. Each week, I look forward to our friendly exchanges when I go in to make copies for my business classes.
After I drop off the work, I walked down Akwa, a street in Bafoussam with bars, and mamas and people selling all kinds of street food. I stopped by my regular brochette guy and picked up a few skewers of bbq meat to fill the stomach. While I waited for my change, I noticed the ease and comfort I possessed in these social situations. Just a year ago, I was at the same place with Kirk, my predecessor, completely intimidated yet excited to face the great unknown. I thought of how far I've came in a year.
Brochettes in hand, I stopped by our regular bar to see Ghilain, our bar lady, but she wasn't there. So I continued the walk toward the bank to withdrawl some money. Nice guard at the bank informed me the ATM machine doesn't work. Luckily, there was hardly anyone inside the bank since it's not the end of the month. (Do not try to do anything at a Cameroonian bank near the end of the month. It is a pure nightmare.) I filled out some paperwork at the counter. While waiting for my money, I had a flashback to a year ago when Kate and I were trying to open our accounts there with atrocious French. How things have changed.
I paid a visit at my Chinese family. Per usual, they asked me to stay for lunch. I continue to marvel at how much they reall are like my parents. I told them I will be sitting for the GRE at the end of October and therefore are a lot busier now. Just before I left, they told me to study hard. I was warmed and thought that's exactly what my mother would say. I will miss them.
Since the sun was shining, I took the opportunity to take a stroll through the market. Usually I detest the market in Bafoussam. People are often obnoxious and in the rainy season, it's a muddy mess. But this day, I was particularly in the mood for some market action. I roamed through the crowded alleys with relative ease. Saw a stand with some scarfs so I stopped to barter with the lady. Two scarfs for 3000cfa ($6), not bad. I pride in the fact I now can buy most things like a true local.
Then I found my way to the veggie section of the market. I was looking for cucumber and didn't see any. So I inquired a mama. "Salut, ma fille !" (hello, my girl/daughter) I will miss being greeted this way. She told me where to find cucumber. The lady selling cucumber had a bunch of other things, among them, garlic that are already peeled! This is the equivalent of finding gem. I hate peeling garlic!
I concluded my stroll through the market, picked up my copies and then went behind the gas station to find a car back to Batié. Apparently during the week, taximen aren't suppose to be getting clients anymore. They are suppose to get clients at a place a bit outside of the city. That requires an extra 200cfa (40cents) in taxi to get there. So during the week, getting car in the center of the city is a hush-hush operation. Like a true local, I do not want to pay the extra 40 cents. I knew exactly where to go and who to see to get a car back home. The things I do here. :)
A delightful day in Bafoussam. At this moment in time, I already know for the rest of my life, I will miss days like this one. *sigh*
The sun was shining for the first time in weeks. I hadn't noticed it until a guy from village said this is the first day it hasn't rained in two weeks. Per usual, I was squeezed in the back seat with 3 others, but luckily my favorite fish mama was next to me. We had some nice chats. She was on her way into Bafoussam to purchase coal for her fish grilling endeavor. It never occurred to me until that moment that one can't find coal in my village. 14 months in, yet I still learn something new everyday.
The taxi made it into town without too many stops. I dropped off the copy work at my regular shop. The lady who owns this cyber café is one of the most modern and put together Cameroonian women I've ever met. She runs her business with such efficiency that blows my mind every time. We've became good friends and now she gives me my copies at a special rate. Each week, I look forward to our friendly exchanges when I go in to make copies for my business classes.
After I drop off the work, I walked down Akwa, a street in Bafoussam with bars, and mamas and people selling all kinds of street food. I stopped by my regular brochette guy and picked up a few skewers of bbq meat to fill the stomach. While I waited for my change, I noticed the ease and comfort I possessed in these social situations. Just a year ago, I was at the same place with Kirk, my predecessor, completely intimidated yet excited to face the great unknown. I thought of how far I've came in a year.
Brochettes in hand, I stopped by our regular bar to see Ghilain, our bar lady, but she wasn't there. So I continued the walk toward the bank to withdrawl some money. Nice guard at the bank informed me the ATM machine doesn't work. Luckily, there was hardly anyone inside the bank since it's not the end of the month. (Do not try to do anything at a Cameroonian bank near the end of the month. It is a pure nightmare.) I filled out some paperwork at the counter. While waiting for my money, I had a flashback to a year ago when Kate and I were trying to open our accounts there with atrocious French. How things have changed.
I paid a visit at my Chinese family. Per usual, they asked me to stay for lunch. I continue to marvel at how much they reall are like my parents. I told them I will be sitting for the GRE at the end of October and therefore are a lot busier now. Just before I left, they told me to study hard. I was warmed and thought that's exactly what my mother would say. I will miss them.
Since the sun was shining, I took the opportunity to take a stroll through the market. Usually I detest the market in Bafoussam. People are often obnoxious and in the rainy season, it's a muddy mess. But this day, I was particularly in the mood for some market action. I roamed through the crowded alleys with relative ease. Saw a stand with some scarfs so I stopped to barter with the lady. Two scarfs for 3000cfa ($6), not bad. I pride in the fact I now can buy most things like a true local.
Then I found my way to the veggie section of the market. I was looking for cucumber and didn't see any. So I inquired a mama. "Salut, ma fille !" (hello, my girl/daughter) I will miss being greeted this way. She told me where to find cucumber. The lady selling cucumber had a bunch of other things, among them, garlic that are already peeled! This is the equivalent of finding gem. I hate peeling garlic!
I concluded my stroll through the market, picked up my copies and then went behind the gas station to find a car back to Batié. Apparently during the week, taximen aren't suppose to be getting clients anymore. They are suppose to get clients at a place a bit outside of the city. That requires an extra 200cfa (40cents) in taxi to get there. So during the week, getting car in the center of the city is a hush-hush operation. Like a true local, I do not want to pay the extra 40 cents. I knew exactly where to go and who to see to get a car back home. The things I do here. :)
A delightful day in Bafoussam. At this moment in time, I already know for the rest of my life, I will miss days like this one. *sigh*
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".
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".
Friday, August 14, 2009
Present Moment. Wonderful Moment.
It occurred to me a few days ago that I only have about 10 months left of service. This was shocking. Suddenly, any lonely feeling or "oh life sucks here" feeling had vanished. All is left is "how is it possible I only have 10 months left?!" panic.
I thought of all the things I still need to accomplish, namely, building 30 libraries. Yikes.
The realization brought on a complete change of attitude. I began to really notice on the minute detail of everyday life here. Each moment is special in its own right. I am constantly thinking to myself, "embrace this moment, because in 10 months, even if I want it, I won't have this again."
Some of the amazing moments this week were as follow:
I thought of all the things I still need to accomplish, namely, building 30 libraries. Yikes.
The realization brought on a complete change of attitude. I began to really notice on the minute detail of everyday life here. Each moment is special in its own right. I am constantly thinking to myself, "embrace this moment, because in 10 months, even if I want it, I won't have this again."
Some of the amazing moments this week were as follow:
- I was running on the neighborhood market day and when I ran through, all the mamas waved. After the run, I stopped by to pick up some groceries, and mamas were so happy to see me. One wouldn't stop talking me in the patois that I don't understand. I got some extra tomatoes as cadeau.
- After my class one evening, I went to my fish mama with my tupperware. She got a grilled fish ready to go for me, and some baton de manioc. Mmmm yummy. Then she forgot the onion, so I reminded her. She told me how I'm just like one of them! Fish mama loves the fact I come prepared with a tupperware.
- Went to the pump by my house to get water after a run one morning, there were kids I don't recognize pumping water. They are here during the vacation. Little girl called me "la blanche", so I taught her my name. The boy who's bigger offered to pump my water and then carried the bucket on his head and brought it to the house.
- The same little girl came to my house today with her posse. They yelled "Wendy, Wendy" continuously until I came to the door. I was happy she stopped calling me "la blanche". The kids asked me a million cute questions. Including, "pourquoi tes yeux sont comme ça?" (why are your eyes like that?) "pourquoi t'es blanche comme ça?" (why are you white like that?) "pourquoi tu parles comme les gens sur la télé?" (why do you talk like the people on TV?) They are SO cute. I told them if they are good tomorrow we can have coloring afternoon chez moi.
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.
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.
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