Jess does da ‘Roon

It’s a rare gift to be able to be celebrated for something you’ve accomplished when you aren’t dead, extremely old, or famous.  (“Or ting where u never even do ‘em self “…. Or things that you didn’t even do)

My NGO, specifically my boss, gave me a fantastic parting gift of a HUGE send off ceremony.  Officials were there as well as groups, organizations, students that I’d worked with for 2 years. Imagine being celebrated for the tiniest thing you had ever done, in speeches and tug of war, sketches, etc.  So much work went into the event and its planning that it was such an honor.  We decorated the hall (this was part of my contribution, I made signs that said “Jess says…”  with pictures of a shaggy redhead with glasses) .

I desperately tried not to bring on tears as people said the sweetest things about all these amazing accomplishments, some that weren’t really true (I don’t speak pidgin better than Cameroonians, I didn’t do any major health improvements with groups).  Cameroonians don’t know what to do with public crying unless someone’s died.  I didn’t have any issues holding back the tears when the youths lost to the women in tug of war (the women were SERIOUS, putting on sportswear and talking trash – I was on the youths). 

I got to dance with all my ladies, in a ridiculous traditional dress and headscarf, showing off what I’d learned after 2 years: be bold and shake your skin.

Leaving Buea was harder than it should have been.  I feel very lucky to be able to keep in touch with most of the people I connected with through email.  But as a pack rat, I had enough crap to disperse for multiple houses. I made trip after trip to the office, to my neighbors, to friends, orphanages, carrying stuff. And shipped a huge bag home.  I gave my local grandma, Bomba, a traditional dress.  She was nearly crying at having to say goodbye and having this tremendous gift from me.  This was one of the more touching goodbyes I had… my 83 year old neighbor who took me like her own daughter, in spite of my scandalous boxers, late night partying, and lack of domestic skills, and we only communicated through pidgin. 

My hardest goodbye was my counterpart, Esther.  In my speech I explained that Peace Corps assign volunteers a “counterpart” but that Esther has no counterpart, no one is on her level. She is certainly a mentor for me and my experience would have been lost without her energy, direction, and love. Kim and I went to dinner at her house, WAY out in the bush, where she giggled at my quips as she finished her homework for an online course, we scratched at multiple mosquito bites, and ate delicious coconut rice.

I’m starting to miss my house already, with my wall murals, privacy, tons of space and leopard couch (for god’s sake!).  I know if I go back to Buea in even a year, it will be different. I won’t be able to track down all my friends who have moved/changed their numbers.  Bars will pop up. Construction will cram into tiny spaces. Prices will be different for things in the market. I may lose my pidgin. This is a nicely packaged up experience that wasn’t always easy but was a beautiful thing for me.

So for 6 weeks, I hauled a basket full of colorful scissors, crayons, pencils, and assorted project materials up to the second floor of the oldest high school in the South West. I had taxi drivers, random people on the street, and students asking me what the supplies were for and if they could buy them.

On December 5^th, the girls gathered in the front entryway to take a closing picture (I made them take it with “crazy faces”) and receive their (much sought after) Peace Corps certificates.  We gave them all a small amount of art supplies so they could continue working at home for a little while.  Most of these girls had never been in any kind of art setting in their lives and may never be again.

This is the project, out of an entire 2 years, that I am the most proud of.  18 girls, 4 of them deaf, were able to explore art.  I tried, as much as possible, to make it sustainable so that there are 2 more facilitators for next year.  But it may fail and never happen again… and I’m OK with that. I was thoroughly rewarded by the girls’ enthusiasm (who wouldn’t be enthusiastic doing face painting?) and creativity (in one of their later projects, the girls did a collage and one of them started making it 3-D and this is HUGE for them).  We made colorful paper mache masks, meditated and did Chinese brush painting, made body collages, and Snap Cups.

In one of my finer moments, I brought back the… cheesy/ridiculous idea from “Legally Blonde” (??!!) where she has everyone get their own cup and you write little messages to put into them with nice things about that person.  My friend Kim snickered loudly in the back as I made the girls repeat after me, “Aw… SNAP!” Where else will I have the chance to make a room full of young girls say that (and no one call their moms or older sisters and say “I don’t know.. but this crazy white girl just made us say “Aw snap”… and that ain’t right)?  The girls wrote little notes to each other to take home on the last day so they could still feel connected to each other.  Don’t hate.

A few days before I moved out of my house, one of the girls came over and said she needed to talk to me.  In a whispery voice, she told me she had started her period.  She likes to tell stories, and so she gave me the full rundown on how “it” happened and how she discovered it. Part of the art class curriculum was a session on reproductive health (the girls don’t learn this in school and no one ever really explains to them what their period is or what happens during pregnancy).  As I whooped and hollered, sweeping her up in my arms, she asked, “You’re HAPPY??!” More people should get celebrated on their becoming a woman.  And Starine will be a wonderful woman.

Art education is desperately needed (among a whole pile of other things…) here. I’ve been thinking about a future career in doing art education in developing countries.  It’s so exciting, to see them feel comfortable expressing themselves; girls in Cameroon are used to being very demure and quiet in the classroom as the boys overshadow them.   In my guestbook at my Send Off, one of the girls wrote “Thank you for making me bold” (which is funny, since she probably was the most bold in the class, but cute too).  I’m just starting to realize that other people didn’t grow up doing art the way I did, thanks mom.  Sometimes we grow nostalgic for Mr. Markers (you remember the smelly ones) or coloring books, the chance to waste some paper.  Everyone deserves the chance to find themselves through art growing up.

The top searches for people tracking down my blog right now include “flooded shoes”, “how to pop a blister”, and “seductress”. I don’t know how you got here, but I hope it was through one of those methods. Poppin’ blisters and seducing, this is my M.O.

Today was the World Cup qualifying match of Togo vs. Cameroon (or as I like to call it “Togo Domination Day”.  
The history of my training group here in Cameroon is that when we arrived in Philly for pre-country training, we were roaming around Philly with trainees headed for Togo.  We’d see them in a mall on an escalator and recognize the Peace Corps-ish look and then when we talked to them (“Hey! Are you Peace Corps? Really!? Awesome. Cameroon?? Oh…”), we’d realize that they were… not us.
Back to today. All day, people were buying sweatbands and badly printed T-shirts that said “Bravos Les Lions Indominables”.  I somehow forgot to bring any shirt that looked remotely patriotic… so I ended up just trying to yell loud enough to prove myself.
We went to the game in NUMBERS.  All the whities from all over the country filtered in until there must have been at least 15 of us (OK, so there are more whities in Cameroon than 15…) and we managed to get in to the stadium without anyone getting beaten up (which is less than I can say for Mexico – good job for your quasi-aggressiveness, Cameroon).  We sat down and immediately started smearing sunscreen on our pasty forearms and sweaty heads – although I, in an attempt to hold on to a shred of dignity, had applied back in the house.  The guys behind us asked why we would need this type of lotion and we tried to explain sunburn in special English. God, we sound like pathetic creatures.
The Cameroonian anthem was sang (only in French, although in anglophone Cameroon we often sing it in both languages… since WE are bilinigual…).  I’ll save you the anxiety and tell you now that Cameroon smoked down Togo 3-0. It was a great game, but I’m also entertained by watching people run around with flags in the stands, pondering about the stadium’s construction, wondering where the popcorn dude is.  Let me tell you what surprised me:

1. Cameroonians are INSANE about people standing up during the match.  They are vocal and will literally MAKE someone sit down after everyone has been given the necessary standing moment when a goal is scored. Now, Cameroon, you are a very unruly country of people spitting and yelling.  Where the hell does it come from that people must be sitting orderly at the game – albeit while whistles and African drums are blazing throughout the stadium? 
2. There are people selling snacks at not jacked up prices. Well done.
3. There are not NEARLY enough organized cheers/chants. I was just happy to see everyone waving their hands in the air at one point, although it wasn’t even a true “wave”. Mexico’s got that figured out, why can’t we have a little “Alons-y Lions!” or something?

And, we got on TV.  This is why I encouraged white people to come (I didn’t).  When we are in crowds, we stand out. When we’re all wearing jerseys (I wasn’t) and squinting, we are a spectacle. So before the game started, we were featured, looking hot and bored.  Unfortunately, we were really prepared later on when a camera came by and we all did fun cute little hand gestures and big smiles. So when we came back and people were calling us to say they saw us on TV, we thought they saw our good side… but alas, they caught us at our down moment… that paparazzi.

My friend, Josh, is back in Cameroon.  I met him at towards the beginning of his jaunt through Africa (for more than one year) when he came through Cameroon in the beginning of 2009.  Now he’s been in 9 more countries and has some perspective.  He’s reminding me of all the unique things about Cameroon, and Buea in particular, about why I should be grateful that I’ve had such a long time to be here.

One of my favorite things that he likes to gush about is the clouds.  Buea’s on the mountain and the “fog”/clouds come rolling in and they’ve got such character. You can taste them in Buea Town and right now I can see them sneaking little thin arms into the door of the internet cafe. You can walk through a cloud and then see clear down to the ocean – it’s not total fog.

Another is cheap beer. I don’t like beer, still, after being here for all this time (yeah! way to go!).  But it is amazing.  And I definitely missed whiskey sachets in Ethiopia.  You can’t beat a shot for less than 20 cents. That you can stick in your bag. No. You can’t.

And he’s been longing for traditional food.  I hear so many people complain about the food, how it all tastes the same or whatever, that I forget that I LOVE okra soup and ndole (he likes achu still… that’s a phase we all go through… it’ll pass). I adore plantains.  And I like that I can get it for less than $1. I will miss the food so much when I’m gone.

Hmm and pidgin.  Although he likes to add in extra pidgin words “How fo yu dey?” he’s definitely like a fish back in water. I will miss being able to spit gut reaction “Now weti?” “I say!” etc. (And in fact I might just spit many of them for awhile back in the States, beware)

He keeps saying that Buea is beautiful.  And it is. I’d forgotten, it was all hidden under the rain.  But the sun’s returned and all seems right with the world again.  For all you Seattle-ites (I’m SURROUNDED by them) – I’m tired of hearing about how the rain is similar there.  I will not be able to live for very long in Seattle, I’m aware. Congratulations. You’re all insane.