Jess does da ‘Roon

I haven’t formally discussed this and it needs to be talked about.

So in Latin America, people get on buses and they sell things. Mostly fake jewelry and booklets.

Booklets are quite common in Cameroon too. You get on a bus (usually you’re going to be on that bus for awhile.. you’re a captive audience.. literally) and some guy gets on and starts yelling in pidgin about some thing he wants you to buy since it’s good for your health. Usually it’s booklets or herbs or products like tooth paste.

So I’m on the bus, in the back where I receive no air and am swimming in sweat but thankfully am free from all the hot air this guy is putting out up in the front. He’s a “doctor” and has written a manual (as in authoritative knowledge) on the female anatomy. Grrreat. As a health worker, I almost want to dispell the myths that he’s creating minute by minute. But I realize that a lot of women (and men) learn health topics this way. I’m trying to bury myself in a book, ignoring his yelling about “VAGINAS” and “DISCHARGES”. It’s not working. The lessons to be learned are that women should change their “pants” (short for underpants… what we call underwear) twice a day. And on and on.

Then in a smooth transition, he pulls out ginseng and sells that at a pretty high price to basically cure any sexual issues you might be having. If you look like this <he pulls out a drawing of what I think was a woman yanking up her dress and having a penis?> then take ginseng to look like this <holds up another drawing of a white woman pulling her shirt up and her pants down.. she looks pretty standard except for exposing herself>.

I haven’t bought any of the big breasts, skinny waist, or bigger butt soaps yet (soap ‘em up and watch ‘em grow/shrink!). But I’ve got time, and perhaps I should be researching the market here… (Imagine me coming home with a 100% genuwine ba-donk-adonk). Here’s where you pray for me – I think the Cameroonians might if I keep doing things like starting dreadlocks (lookin’ like one of those young rascals!).

Bill.. I know the people at the post office really like you… but they’re making me pay gazillions of money to pick up packages. (And then mocking me by saying “It’s not a lot, is it?”) Grrrr. Folks at home, don’t be discouraged. I’ll deal with the people on this side- keep sending stuff!

Thank you to everyone who sent birthday cards and letters – I got ‘em today and it was warm and friendly.

I just finished a week of in-service training in Kribi (big touristy beach town in the South province). I wasn’t ready for the schedule of 8-5 again. How the hell am I ever going to work in the U.S. again? It was great to be able to see other successful projects that other volunteers had done (so I can jank them for my own use!). I want to do a summer camp (Bill – since you read my blog, you’re now obligated to collaborate with me on that project).  The beach was gorgeous but I can now settle the big debate. Kribi or Limbe? (Time for a list!)

• They speak English in Limbe
• Limbe has more trash on the beach
• Limbe’s cloudier (this is a plus for me – less sunscreen needed)
• Kribi’s men are skeezier (and they speak in loud French and tell us not to sing in cabs = boo)
• Limbe has black sand (exotic.. sexy..)
• There’s waterfalls at Kribi (but they’re still Cameroonian and people do their laundry in them)
• There’s more sex workers in Kribi
• There’s small biting creatures in both at times
• Roland’s at Limbe (the manager who loves blues music with pretty eyes)

Overall: Limbe wins. It’s home and Kribi’s too touristy.

…Roosters don’t just crow when the sun comes up.

So this morning I went to the mortuary for the 2nd time since I came to Cameroon, and for the 2nd time in my life. “The removal of the corpse” is not a delicate way to phrase anything but it certainly describes what happens. And today a corpse came through the door while we were in the process of removing the other one. So the body’s taken out of the morgue, put in the coffin, and there’s a small religious service before the coffin’s loaded up and taken to the village.  I’m learning to fulfill my duty in terms of ceremonies (but mark my words: when I die, don’t do that crap to me. Burn me and then burn the town down with a huge party)

Yesterday I had a pretty successful session on tuberculosis. And for those summer camp counselors, you might appreciate the fact that I played “Cross the ocean” with them… only it was “cross the body” and they were bacteria, trying not to get tagged by the doctors. Oh did they enjoy it. And then we played a little family feud to recall the facts of TB. Gotta spice up the subject a little.

Fish!! I’ve only been updating you on my cooking and forgot to talk about the glories of fish in da ‘Roon. They roast fish here like it’s their job (… and it is indeed their job). Put a little seasoned oil on that bad boy and (I don’t ever eat the..) chili pepper and it’s just… the sweet flesh of the gods of the sea.

Alright. It’s midday. I’m playing hookey from work. Time for business time (;-) )