Jess does da ‘Roon

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.

When I first came to Buea, I wanted to paint big pictures of the world on the sides of buildings – I was so excited about being in Buea! But that quickly became less than feasible without a partner in crime or students to help me. And now it’s on the table again! Kim, from thatswhatshesaid.wordpress.com, is doing a project with her peer educators in Fundong in the North West.  Since it’s sort of a big undertaking, I’m gonna try and help her out in the sketching of it and mixing of colors.  The kids will paint it. At the end of October, we’re gonna work with about 10 youths to paint the outside of her library with a map of the world.  So many kids don’t really have access to maps here in Cameroon that they’re still a novelty and this type of map will last for many years.  The peer educators working on the project will also be THRILLED to be able to point out this lasting mark on their community.

She’s sending out pleas for funding in order to buy paint.  The community is donating 20% of the total cost of the project and Kim’s estimating that she’ll need about $250 to buy paints.  I know I’m constantly pleading for art pity – with the Artist Workshop I’m holding and such.  But any small contribution to this project would be a big help.  Checks can be sent to my mom: (Char Bowling, 612 Angier Rd. Fuquay-Varina, NC 27526)

 I picked up my skirts to rush out of Buea after only arriving a few weeks earlier from Ethiopia, the urge to escape the clouds and rain too strong.  My neighbors glanced up from washing their laundry, by now unsurprised at my huge pack.  I jauntily arrived in Yaounde, for our close of service conference. Volunteers need a little bit of preparation to re-enter normal society.

We all trooped into Mt. Febe, an extremely luxe hotel on a small hill looking out over the whole city.  The hotel staff must dread the time when Peace Corps volunteers come through, since we’re an evil combination of villagois (we’re ready to spit fish bones on the floor and steal food from the buffet) and highly demanding (we’ve been through 2 years of roughin’ it, how come the hot water’s not on? and where’s the music video channel!?).  I stepped into the room and my breath caught in my throat – the balcony door was open and light came streaming into this extremely clean and sparkling white room. May I never reach the point where small things like this don’t thrill me to the extent of giggles.

The conference tried to hit on all different issues volunteers have once going back, such as writing resumes and making skills such as “Blunt/Direct Communication” and “Being able to eat anything offered” sound professional.  We had a nice little trip to the embassy with American visa information, Foreign Service information, and a small ceremony.  Then some returned volunteers came and talked a bit about their advice for how not to go back and flip out staring at the 500 different types of toothpaste (it’s easy for us to get overwhelmed at all the different sparkly options). I’ve made the crucial decision that within my first days back at home, I will make a special pilgrimage to the grocery store and I will choose very carefully gets to accompany me on this trip since I will pee on myself at some point.

Anytime all of us get together, we’re bound to come up with some horrible form of entertainment.  In the past we’ve had eating contests, dance parties, and feats of strength. This time around we decided on some theme nights, including 80s prom.  I found a fantastic Vana White dress, fully gold sequined to the floor.  Unfortunately my dress would’ve been too heavy for me to participate in the swimming contest where women swam a lap in their dress and switched with a waiting gentleman.  Dresses were ripped. Dreams were shattered.
The band played, this time in some regal sequined costumes.  I was amusing in my off-timedness, but my energy compensated fully (I’m sure).  One of my favorite numbers was The Killers “All These Things That I’ve Done” where the dancers got to freestyle whir about and then do fun saluting motions.  But Kim did an amazing job on her duet of “In the Pines” – we opted for the less racist Nirvana version’s lyrics without the “Black girl, don’t lie to me” part.

Last night we went to a Michael Jackson “Africa’s Son” concert… it took them awhile to get that response organized I suppose.  It was held in the new Chinese Stadium, so there was quite a sprinkling of Asians in the crowd.  It was surreal to be in a basketball dome with nice fold down seats.  We all had doubts as to how long the thing will actually hold up.  The performance was… well done for the most part.  They brought in a lot of different Cameroonian acts to play all types of music, with xylophones and pygmy dancers, jazz with saxophone, and Macossa (I realized that in the States I might never describe something as “having a saxophone” but we get really excited).  But the highlight of the night was an albino/Chinese impersonator.  I’ve heard about him when I was in Buea, that’s how good he is.  In the crowd we speculated as to his origins with francophones- “Il est chinois” “Non, il est blanc” “Il est un albino!” Back and forth. Racism, not really a term yet here. At any rate, he danced amazingly well.  For “Thriller”, they actually organized spastic zombies painted in white face who attacked him.  We were howling (not literally, I was not ready for those looks).  Oh, Michael.

I’ve reached an interesting stage in the process.  I feel really somehow well-integrated but separate from the community, especially as I start to shift my focus onto what happens after Cameroon.  I’m unsurprised by most things that happen around me, and that’s not ideal.  One should be shocked at cars held together with string and packed with bananas/stuffed animals.  One shouldn’t be surprised when things that are lost are returned.  [I recently lost my small purse with my ID card and flash drive in it.  I was not shocked that the flash was stolen but was thoroughly giddy when a taxi driver tracked me down to return my ID - in return for a reward, of course]  Most of the time the response is simply “Ay! Cameroon!” and a suck of the teeth.