Jess does da ‘Roon

Welcome to the 2008 fashion line of Peace Corps Cameroon: broke. It’s a good look for me (I hope, since I’ll be gettin’ cozy in it the next 2 years)

I’m trying to cut back on my expensive eating habits (I have trouble switching from my American breakfast of oatmeal with honey and raisins to eating fried bread and oily beans in the morning) so I can buy something to put in my house/pay my rent.

Quick story from the field: We’ve been doing distribution in different communities of school fees and materials. In the Chief of Social Affairs office, I needed to use the bathroom. I told Esther. She asked, “You need to pee?” I said yes (in the most professional way possible). She turns to the chief and asks where the bathroom is. Chief says there’s no water. Esther says “Its Ok, she only has to pee”. Chief says no, that I need to go “backsayd” – so I pee on the side of the government building. I heart professional Africa.

So, I’ve ranted before about the lizards in my house and how I view them quite fondly. Well… On the 6th of January, we had one pass in my salon/parlor/front room.
It died and somehow miraculously clung to my wall for 4 days afterward. (For the first day, I denied that it was dead, but rather just resting for a bit) Unfortunately I was quite at a loss as to the proper procedure for getting it down from where it was. Finally I convinced Hans to come over and get it down and swiftly sweep it out the door. Spit spat.
Speaking of things that I view fondly in my house, my table has arrived!!! I’m quite obsessed with it. My carpenter made it and already I’m scheming on ways to get it back to the US. I think it’s partly because I live alone, and there’s not a lot of stuff in my house, so the things that ARE there… well, they’re like my roommates. So, I’m close to my table. It’s red wood, solid and shiny.
I’ve been eating a lot at the table… because I have a weirdly insatiable appetite/hunger right now. It’s not just an appetite, but also a physical thing where I can’t really seem to get full very easily (I’d say I have worms but I’m not losing weight yet). I eat huge breakfasts to try and last a little longer into the work day before I begin snacking. And the fact that I don’t have a refrigerator means that I usually cook way too much dinner, and while I could give it to the neighbors, I could also just eat wayyy more than I normally would (which is what I do). I’m learning how to keep food for awhile longer (produce is an issue… but here’s a tip from good ol’ Africa: spreading produce out on the concrete floor keeps it cooler than anywhere else)
I’m beginning to grow tired of “white man” being yelled or whispered wherever I go (if they said white woman, I’d understand). It’s pidgin and it’s what I am to them (most people have titles like little kids you call “baby” and women I call “aunti” or “sistah”). I like “nasarra”, which is what they call us in the north, a lot better. It’s almost redeemed by the fact that Peace Corps is pronounced “peace cops” in pidgin, making me think of myself as the police of peace.
I’m handling my boredom pretty well. I read a lot. But one night I got a little artsy and made signs for all the rooms in my house (I’d already named them during some boring work meeting). The kitchen has yet to be named…
I also got a little artsy around town. Hans has opened a bar, MacWhite’s (it’s from his cousin’s nickname of MacShow and… oh jeez, I don’t know. He tells the story so often I daze out usually. But it’s a combo of 2 nicknames), and it’s fantastic. He did all the concrete work, and pulled together all the furniture, etc for it. It happened REALLY fast (especially for Cameroon). But anyway, one Tuesday he asked me to paint a mural on one of the walls. I was interested, as I don’t get the chance to paint here much. But he wanted 2 couples dancing, and he wanted it done by Friday. I laughed. But sure enough, I managed to be done painting my Saturday afternoon (it’s supposed to be 2 couples dancing… but it’s not my best work). I don’t expect to become famous from doing it, but it’s nice to have SOMETHING here that I can say I’ve done other than just observe for weeks and weeks.
Last night we went to the bar (Hans is there every night), and there was “cabaret” (this is what they call live music here). I was excited but figured it would sound like the other bar here with music: Cameroonian and good for awhile, but you’re done after hearing some songs. But, ‘lo and behold! A saxaphone! A trumpet! Jesus!! I was in heaven. Jazzy good times on a Friday night in Cameroon, yes please. I’ve never been closer to throwing my panties on stage in my life (but then again… I need the clothing… and my panties aren’t all that sexy these days..).
While sitting at the bar, I asked Hans for a recommendation on a woman to cut my hair (not being sexist, but mostly women cut women’s hair here.) since he knows everyone. But he decided that he didn’t want me to go to a salon, that he could cut my hair. (What can’t he do?) I’ll try anything once (don’t quote me on that) and figured he couldn’t do too bad, I had a lot of extra length to mess up. So he came over this morning and got right to hacking. I said “I want this much off. K?” while showing him about an inch. When he grabbed my hair up in ponytail fashion and cut a clump off, I got nervous. As he showed the 2.5″ pieces to me, I shrieked that it was longer than I asked for. Eh, what the hell. So it’s quite a bit shorter, and I’ll probably let him do it again (in like 6 months, when I get my hair that long again)

Felicitaciones to me for the “one-month at post” mark being reached.

Work’s been officially kicked off. For awhile there I was getting my house set up, and then we were doing heavy planning for the next year, and then the holidays came. So… we’re getting started with two separate really big projects that we’re behind on. The first one is from the government, and we’re in the second phase of it, where we support orphans and vulnerable children (OVCs) educationally. So what that means is that we go out to the schools, figure out what books they need or arrange to pay their registration fees, and then we have to return to the schools to distribute funds/books. I’ve been tagging along, basically getting a slide show of school after school in Buea (we are doing this project all over the province though).

Some of the schools are… (picture Africa when you knew very little about it, where the children have flies on them and there’s mud everywhere… it’s like that almost) rougher than I thought they would be here in the provincial capital. They are far-removed, down long, dusty roads. We traveled into the hills around Buea to find them, using the 4-wheel drive pick-up for all it was worth. They’re sometimes made of concrete, but often made of plank boards. The rooms are tight with wooden benches and the teachers walk out of the rooms to leave the children to go crazy. (Quite often we went to schools where the children were on break, and they were running in the dust, kicking the hell out of each other) In the classrooms of private schools, the children have to greet guests (often with Bible verses) that they yell out in sync when you walk in… it’s a bit strange. I got a chance to meet some of the OVCs, and some made me want to hug them so bad I had to sit on my hands. One little girl named Faith was twisting her dress (they all wear uniforms) in her fists. When my coworker asked her to stop, she released the fabric to reveal huge holes showing her thighs (really indecent for Cameroon). No one at home would fix it for her. Then as we were registering OVCs at a primary school, one girl in Class 5 (about 5th grade), but she was 17. She had come from the village, where she wasn’t in school, and so she was behind. Unfortunately she would be 18 in February and we can’t support her after she’s 18.

A few things I missed in other posts:

Traditional food: Unfortunately here in the South West, everyone loves spicy food. But “Ah no fit chop the pepe” (means I can’t eat peppers). So I found Achu, which is mashed up koko yams (like regular mashed potatoes!) with this bright yellow gravyish stuff. Oh yay! Something I can eat. Here, eating traditional foods is a really big deal. It’s like “How much do you like Buea?” = “What traditional foods do you like?”

Trash:You might be wondering as you flip on your garbage disposal, “what does Jess do with her trash?” Well, lucky for me I have a huge ditch running near my house that stores all of the neighborhood’s garbage. (Here it’s called a “dustbin” which irritates me, since technically the whole town’s a dustbin right now, it’s dusty everywhere)  I think normally it would be a beautiful ravine with flowers, and maybe the irridescent green birds, but now it’s a ditch littered with plastic bags, ravenous dogs, and adventurous chickens. (I’m working on how I can somehow “fix” this as a PC volunteer)

Birds: (Jennie go find Julio to witness my attempt at ornothology) Mount Cameroon is  one of the many sites for bird watching. I think a couple cool types come down to Buea from the mountain. So far my favorites are: these hummingbird looking birds that aren’t hummingbirds, meaning that I can admire their glittering green bodies longer. These bright yellow birds that all nest together, and there’s one tree on “my walk” that is full of their nests and their chatter. These “penguin crows” which are large crows with a little tuxedo on that are everywhere. These tiny little turquoise birds that I haven’t seen here, only in Bangangte. The swallows, which were more popular in Bangangte, that would go swooping in crazy circles over the town.

I can’t really embrace the fact that Christmas could actually happen when it’s hot and I’m not with my family (although “family” is a loose concept, and I have plenty of new family here).

X-Mas
I went to Limbe for Christmas Eve, just sorta hung out lazily on the beach. Robert (friend from work) came with me to the beach, and it was his first time swimming in the ocean. That’s a wonderfully funny thing to experience – I suggest you find a grown adult who’s never done it, and watch in utter amusement for hours. Then we went to Tico to stay at Debbie and Joe’s – their swanky set up incites tons of jealousy (an A/Ced bedroom with a spring mattress, refrigerator, oven, tons of furniture…). We had Mac n Cheese for Christmas eve and it was delightful! Then great homemade Christmas cookies for breakfast, and then guacamole, chicken, stuffing, wine, potatoes etc for dinner.

The lights around Buea make me ecstatic. It’s mostly on bars, businesses, and little boutiques (not so much on people’s houses). But sometimes they play music and it’s just sparkly fantasticness.

Robert and I took a “stroll” around the block on Christmas night, when everyone was out. It was like the state fair. Everyone dresses up to look their best and goes out to bars, visits family, whatever. Of course quite a few people are drunk, and can be realllly irritating if you’re white. The music from the bar (about a block away) could be heard throughout my house until 6am.

New Years
As far as I can see, New Years is nearly the same as X-Mas. Only everyone celebrates it. Everyone goes out and visits people. There’s tons of food. Brian (visiting volunteer) and I went to Pork Mary’s [sidenote: Pork Mary's is this restaurant right behind my house. It's laid back and the owner of it is Aunti Wini, who is this amazing woman. She's got this aged face and these piercing eyes, but she calls me her baby and always takes care of me. She runs a women's group in the area] where I just sorta hung out for awhile, talking to Wini. And.. we went down to Limbe again. (what better way to celebrate?) Then we hung out a bit at Hans’s new bar that he built. I had dinner at Esther’s (my boss/counterpart) on New Years day (which is when most people celebrate), which was deliciously amazing. I love chicken.