And On and On we Go
6 Octobre 2008
So it was extremely comforting to be back in Yaoundé today, as I certainly felt at home in my school, with my friends, access to internet, and a familiar town… even the regulars screaming “La blanche!” couldn’t put a damper on my mood. Breakfast of chocolate bread and hot chocolate with Arnaud was delicious as usual, and usually starts me off in the right frame of mind. There was also a pleasant breeze this morning, and the curtain over the door was letting it onto the dining table. Plus, we had plenty of free time today to catch up with the thousands of emails from our friends and universities. However, no day, no matter how seemingly serene, is without it’s Cameroonianisms. As with today…
So near the beginning of the program, Christiane warned us that where we were to hang our sous-vêtements (underwear) was a very culturally sensitive topic, and it was necessary to ask our host mother where to appropriately do this after we had washed them. I, knowingly, brought plenty of sous-vêtements, and so I didn’t need to wash them until we got to Bamenda, which seemed to be perfect timing since I would be staying alone in a hostel… with no one to culturally offend. So, I washed my clothes as usual in a bucket and then slapped them on a rock to remove all the dirt (haha… yes, this is a Cameroonian trick, which you wouldn’t think would work since rocks are usually dirty, but all the rocks in Cameroon are now clean because of this), and then hung them on the line at the hostel. But of course, it monsooned, and all of my clothes were still wet the next day. I had to pack my bags, so I put all the wet clothes in a vacuum-sealed bag and shoved them in my suitcase, having no other choice but to allow them to dry when I returned home. When I arrived in Yaoundé, I felt I had to be discreet about hanging up 30 pairs of underwear since I was heeding the warning of Christiane, so I hung them over the tilted window panes in my room and drew the curtain. Now, I really thought I was being a stealthy genius about this, except that in the morning there was an odor coming from the now-mildewy underwear. I had to go to school, and I just assumed that if I were to shut my door and leave the curtain shut they would be dry before I came home. I should have known better… I arrive home from school and ALL my underwear is hanging on the shared clothesline with our neighbor in our front yard, taking up a massive amount of room without a hint of discretion. I’m thinking… Great. Just great. Now my family thinks I am a closet underwear hoarder and washer. So my mother says to me… “Oh-lie, go get your underwear off the clothes line since the sun is down, and don’t wash them yourself ever again.” That was more or less the end of it. So I ashamedly went outside to get my year’s supply of underwear, and was pleasantly surprised to see that these were the absolute cleanest underwear I have ever seen in my life. I don’t know how she did it, but they certainly didn’t look like that when I slapped them on the rock. They were practically straight out of the package… that makes me wonder… where are they hiding the washing machine?
8 Octobre 2008
So after school yesterday, I was feeling extremely ill and feverish, but had an appointment at the U.S. Embassy so I could not go straight home. However, my trip to the embassy was incredible. I felt so powerful as I was escorted through the two barricaded doors into the main chancery. I was also run through security measures 4 times to ensure that I wasn’t carrying any illegal or dangerous contraband. In any case, the embassy, which was just built here in 2005, was absolutely gorgeous and state of the art. I met with the ambassador’s protocol assistant and am one step closer to hopefully landing an internship either there or at the ministry of diplomacy… however, I needed to cut my meeting short since I was weak and sweating profusely. I returned home, and told my mother I was sick and needed to take a nap, but there was no possible way I could sleep. I was feeling just “off,” slightly drunk feeling, and extremely weak. I took my temperature and had a fever of 40*C , and my mother decided for me that it was time to go to the hospital. Now, believe me when I say I didn’t want to go to the hospital at all… especially not at night, and when I was tired and weak. But, our trusty steed/driver Flobert, Nathalie, and my host mother - probably the only host mother in the history of SIT to escort her American daughter to the hospital here - carted me to the hospital. Anyway, I got to the hospital, and very in line with Cameroonian hospitals, things were chaotic and plenty of people were waiting, but they pushed “la blanche” through first. This big, old nurse with tons of gaudy gold jewelry on, was peering at me over her glasses, barking orders at me in French, of some things I didn’t completely understand… like, “when was your last menstrual period?” except there is no reason why I ever would have learned that in French, so I tell her I don’t understand, and she just says it louder instead of differently. I was definitely on the other side of the cultural barrier, since this so often happens in the United States with people who don’t speak English. I was at the brink of breaking down and crying right there in that office, but convinced myself that now – after all I’ve been through in Cameroon, and with this big old mean woman – was not the time to have my first cry.I felt it needed to be a little more serious. I was above this, and I was going to be fine. So, I go for testing, and absolutely deplore having blood drawn in Cameroon, but I very staunchly asked for a new needle, and to see that it is new. So I’m waiting in the hospital, and it’s costing me an arm and a leg, but I come to find out I have the dreaded “fever of the blood” – aka Malaria. I have no idea how I got it since I’ve been pretty good about using OFF, and my prevention medicine, but nevertheless, of course I got it. Fortunately, the medication to fight it is very effective, and should be finished in the course of 3 days. I know I will be fine… I’m just sweating in buckets and could potentially sleep about 1000 hours a day.
Quote of the Day (These quotes will aim to be self-explanatory of Cameroonian culture – think deeply about them, haha): “Pam’s Bridal Shop is actually a supermarket.” –Laura V.
Arnaud asked me today when I was leaving again. And I responded that it would be in December… certainly a good long time from now. He said that he just couldn’t take that, and it was necessary for me to leave in December 2011. I’m not exactly sure why he picked that year, but he seemed pretty adamant that that was a more permissible time for me to leave.
Arnaud got a pretty good Cameroonian whipping the other day from my mother for not concentrating on his homework. I think it was more severe because I wasn’t in the room, and since I’ve been here, I haven’t seen him get beat like that. Plus, at the beginning of my home stay, I explained once how my parents had never touched me or my sisters for disciplinary measures, but instead tried to explain to us what we did wrong, and I was very strongly against beating. However, I’m proud that they lasted even a month, and my mother was having a very rough day, which is why I presume she lashed out. I’m glad I wasn’t in the room because it sounded pretty intense even from my bedroom, and while I can’t accept this as appropriate punishment for the crime, I’m not here to change their culture, but to try to understand it. And hitting out of love here, as they call it, for correction is expected from parents.
9 Octobre 2008
It’s amazing to me how attached to my family I am here. I’m already considering a trip back next summer because I certainly would be devastated if I never saw them again… and it’s only been 1 month! If only I could afford for them to visit America, but I’ll hold out that one day, I will be able to.
As I was fevering in my bed last night and unable to sleep, I began thinking profoundly about human compassion and positivism. It seems to me that my best days here are when I’m either being supported, pushed, or reacted to by someone, not something. Things will always take place around you, and that is why most people imagine life to be “so short.” But, consider for a moment the things that aren’t “happening,” but that you’re “doing.” When you find yourself thinking about someone more than once a day. When you’re asking questions of yourself, which scare you more than comfort you. Sometimes, we’re all just wasting time waiting to be comfortable or fit a cultural norm. It’s like that rule that you shouldn’t call until 3 days after a first date so you don’t come across as too needy or desperate. But why? All you’re doing is thinking about the person, and 3 days might be too long to wait. And, it’s certainly not like you aren’t still consumed with that person for 3 days. Moral of the story… stop waiting. If there is one thing I’ve learned here, it’s this. Stop waiting for how you want it to go, and allow yourself to be moved in another direction. Plus, everything always gets better. Always. Nothing remains the same, and we should be thankful for that. Because even when something is so wonderful, we must believe that there is something even more wonderful behind it. Why? Because, why not? I hope you realize as I have that, Without wonder, tomorrow has never existed.
So I’m slowly being converted into a vegetarian, and as you already know, with at least one good reason. When you’re this close to the source, it’s difficult to find reason to wantingly eat it. However, it’s not the only reason. Tonight was another student evening. Yay! Sans l’alcool, but still delicious BECAUSE now we have world-themed student evenings with, of course, accompanying cuisine from that region of the world. Tonight’s theme was India! So, accordingly we had curry rice and vegan samosas. Now these samosas were the most delicious thing I have ever eaten, and I am not a fan of Indian food because it usually doesn’t settle right with my stomach. Haha… today was no exception to that in that I still got violently ill after eating, but at least I felt completely satisfied. It’s most likely the reaction I’ll have from eating food in America for the first time at Christmas. To enjoy the taste, you’ll pay the consequences… I’m all about paying the consequences. Next week: Middle Eastern – Falafel & Hummus.
I came to a scary/surprising realization today. I only have one more week in Yaoundé until we travel again to the beaches of Kribi, Ngaoundere, and the Extreme North, and then we return with one day until ISP. One month of ISP, and the trip is over. That’s absolutely insane to me. I can’t even remember what America is like, let alone go back there… haha… I guess I can come back…
10 Octobre 2008
My life ambitions were affirmed today. Our group met with two U.S. diplomats today, and their job description matches my dream job completely. And I met with them after to discuss the most feasible plan for achieving these goals. I’ll need to start taking the Foreign Service exam as soon as I turn 21, since it usually takes a number of times to pass the test. Also, I’ll need to either attend law school or diplomacy school at a reputable graduate institution, and 15% - 30% of Foreign Service workers are ex-Peace Corps members. I’ll be visiting them on Tuesday. But once selected for Foreign Service, you’re in for life, moving between posts every 3 years. The job takes you all over the world, and the diplomats kept expressing how enriched their lives were, and the absolute diversity of places they have lived in since their tour is only 3 years long. However, they did say that you have to have a very supportive family for the job, since your children will constantly be changing schools, learning new languages, and making new friends. And your spouse better be okay with moving with you, and coping and living apart. It can very stressful, but more than rewarding. The road to that point is long, and seems difficult, but I believe would be absolutely glorious. Plus there are plenty of other domestic jobs available to Foreign Service workers… so even if I want to be near my wonderful family, it’s possible.
So there is a new record of 4 bars of soap in the toilet. No comment on this one.
My mother has replaced Ro (Roselyn) with another cousin named Florein. He’s not nearly as fun, and thinks he’s way too cool for school. And, like Nanu, the few words he has said to me revolved around ipod usage. And he stopped heating up a bucket of water for my showers so now I’ve been demoted to freezing cold showers. However, since the dry season is rapidly approaching, I don’t mind the cold so much since I’m usually sweating in buckets by shower time.
I LOVE my aunt – I call her Tata because I never really figured out her name since most people are referred to by their familial names here, but she’s totally great, and we watch “La Belle Mere” together everyday. Plus, she’s going to rasta my hair when I come back from Kribi…
So as I was going to bed this evening, my mother asked me if I had closed my windows, and I unknowingly at the time, said “No. It’s so hot, why would I close my windows?” And she seemed a bit reluctant to answer, but then said, “In Africa, we sleep with the windows closed.” Well, this was not a satisfactory answer for me, and I asked, “But why?” And she again hesitantly said, “To keep out the witches.” And I responded, “Oh, bonne raison,” and closed my windows.
I don’t want to eat fish heads anymore… and I think I’ve swallowed a complete skeleton in bones by now.
11 Octobre 2008
This morning was terrible news. From my bedroom I could hear crying and had to assume that something awful had happened. Rarely, do I see or hear people crying here. It turns my out my mother’s mother had died during the night since she has been sick all this past week. My mother and her sisters were all in the le salon, with very somber non-speaking expressions on their faces. I wasn’t sure how to react, but went to sit with them in any case. We sat like that for about an hour, and then people started coming to the house… and now it’s only noon…
This afternoon a friend of my father’s came to the house. He was another professor, and I made a big cultural mistake. When I met him, I offered my hand and asked how he was doing, rather than allowing him to offer his hand to me since he was my elder… that was a grand cultural faux pas. My father covered me by laughing and saying that American culture was very different, and the professor seemed to understand, but I felt like an idiot. I was trying to exemplify American culture by being a forward, sophisticated young woman, and it completely backfired. Oh well, you live and you learn.
However, the national soccer team was playing another African country called Maurice today, and it was a HUGE deal. So… dead mother or not, everyone had to enjoy the soccer game. Cameroon may have its problems, but soccer, or football in this case, honestly unifies everyone. Couldn’t help but find myself be cheering for Eto’o, their star player, and cheering for the Lions! After this I was able to take a nap, but of course couldn’t sleep because there was a man replacing the concrete slab outside of my window, which meant using a rock to break up the cement – can you even hear what kind of noise that makes?
In the evening my uncle came to visit, and he really is a wonderfully nice man. But it seems that every new Cameroonian I meet feels the need to give me a 2 hour lecture on American culture and politics. So my brain had been thoroughly fried already from the 20000 people in mourning I had met today, but on top of this at 7 p.m., my uncle wanted to directly talk to me for 2 hours. Finally after all this, I was able to go to bed, but couldn’t fathom being able to bear another weekend day of it.
My mother is traveling to her home village of Banu in the grand north on Tuesday for the funeral ceremony, which consists of some sort of sacrifice, and then the ceremonial washing of the children of the deceased. After this, there is a grand party because, as I explained prior, there sense of fate is much stronger than their sense of loss.
Arnaud beat the game “Chronicles of Narnia” today on the Nintendo, and honestly I have no idea what hobbies he had before I brought it. He plays it non-stop, 24 hours a day…
Also, my family is super sneaky like Cameroonian secret agents. For instance, they constantly ask me who called me on the phone when I’m in my room at night. Or when I said my ipod wasn’t charged, my cousin asked me why then there was a light under my door in the night. Plus, my father said he was going to send a letter to the embassy after I leave so he could tell them that I was the best candidate for the job of ambassador here.
Africans are constantly telling me that I have a small mouth. They honest to goodness just can’t believe how small my mouth is…
12 Octobre 2008
Today was a little easier since I woke up and decided I couldn’t stay in the house. I met Laura and Nora for a little walk into town, but my mother told me that I needed to return at noon.., for what?! I had no idea, something about my uncle, which I was thinking, “Wonderful, another 2 hours+ spent with my brain frying.” But, I of course came home at noon and was served breakfast! Which, “woo-hoo!” because I LOVE breakfast, and I was thrilled I wasn’t coming home to a Cameroonian lunch. However, my uncle soon arrived, and my mother asked if I was ready. “Ready? Ready for what? Sure I’m always ready.” But she told me I couldn’t wear that, and told me to change into another one of my African dresses. After such, we went outside to my uncle’s fabulous Mercedes Benz, which means he must have a lot of money. And the whole family piles into this car, and heads to his home. We arrive, and there is a magnificent dinner prepared for us of salad (and if salad is served, you know they have money), sole, fried plantains, sauce, and shrimp! That was the kicker… I haven’t seen shrimp yet in Cameroon, and it is a true delicacy. Mmmm, and I love shrimp. Plus all the alcohol you could dream of, which was slightly my downfall. Because first of all, with the hor d’ouevres and salad, they wanted me to drink Cameroonian beer, which was fine with me, except Cameroonian beer comes standard in litre bottles. And it’s of course polite to finish everything, so I put back a litre of Amstel. But then, my uncle says, fish is much better with white wine, so I have a glass of white wine. Then, we’re having dessert, and he thinks dessert is best had with red wine, so I have a glass of red wine. But while I’m having the red wine with dessert, I can’t leave out that dessert was mixed fruit, but with fruit, you also drink the sauce from the bowl, and this sauce was special because upon serving me the fruit, he orders for a bottle of Cognac because it will supposedly bring out the sweetness of the fruit, and pours in at least 2 shots. So I am so hot from all of this alcohol, but having a fabulous time with my hilarious uncle and family. Plus, as if my uncle had not made me the honorary guest and been generous enough, he asks if I like chocolate. My mother answers, “She adores chocolate!” So we stop at a bakery and he buys me two bars of dark chocolate and two pieces of black forest cake to eat at home. But with all of this, I knew I would pay for eating so well later, since I promptly get sick after any meal of such caliber – however, it was totally worth it.
13 Octobre 2008
Back to a school day! I wanted to comment on my sometimes confusing age in Cameroon. It’s interesting because, sometimes, like when my mother holds my hand as we cross the street, or when I have to explain my exact whereabouts every time I leave, or when I’m referred to as the child because I like chocolate and bread like Arnaud, I’m considered to be a little girl and still a child. But at other times, like when I’m told to drink large amounts of alcohol, or when my father says that I will soon be the next ambassador of Cameroon, or when I’m the honorary guest at a dinner party, I’m a distinguished adult. It’s difficult to find a common ground because my role is the daughter and child, and a rich American diplomat. I suppose it’s the same way in America except that I am responsible for making the choice whether to act like a child for fun or to be an adult in the appropriate situation.
I’ve recovered from malaria. My test results came back that I had the worst strain, but luckily caught it early enough to avoid any long-term symptoms. And I think I’ve learned that our bodies will only allow us to go as far as they are able. If you have it, you can fight it; you only ‘die’ from lack of will to fight.
I find myself and the other students here constantly trying to manage time. Trying to micro-manage and condense somehow the amount of time they have left here or in one place in their heads. It’s only natural since our entire lives are consumed with planning out every moment of the day. However, after being in Cameroon, I’d prefer to think that we’re all just moving along together toward something great… the end point. Time just buys us a unit of measurement to estimate change; however, change is inevitable. We’re just addicted to knowing ‘when.’
I’m also beginning to recognize courage in all of its forms. And sometimes, for many of these people, courage is just living. You can be courageous in so many fashions, and it’s my opinion that weakness is really non-existent. When we make a choice to do something, anything, we’re expressing courage. And I’d like to extend to you: Don’t ever let someone tell you you aren’t being courageous. Courage is self-defined by the next breath you are willing to take.
14 Octobre 2008
This week has been an interesting challenge. Being that we are approximately half way through the program, there are mixed feelings about feeling fatigued and drained from being here, but also excitement that we’re actually living like Cameroonian citizens, where most daily activities feel normal. However, some things are still frustrating when you’re just exhausted. For instance, since my grandmother died, people have consistently been in our house when I’ve come home from school. Which is certainly fine because I love people, and I’m the guest, but sometimes I’d just like to relax when I come home from school at 6 p.m., seeing as how I woke up at 6 a.m. But with all these new people, many of them are very curious to see me, and the women (my mother’s friends) are far worse than the men. They are constantly looking me up and down, and sometimes won’t even say a word to me until after I greet them, and then they feel required to speak. Sometimes I feel like an alien… which I suppose I am here. Like right now, I’m typing on the dining table, and this young woman just stares at me when I’m typing, and then looks away when I look up. It’s warranted, since I’m sure it’s a combination of my whiteness, and the fact that I’m using a laptop.
On the flip-side, my family is always reassuring, and luckily Boris came to visit yesterday. When I had changed into my African kabba, he’s been the first person in a long time to just say, “Wow.” I forgot what it was like to have a male think that I looked nice, most just say I’m too “mince.” Speaking of, I had my first episode of irrational anger the other day at a Cameroonian who stopped us walking down the street to say, “Mes filles, j’ai regarde votre soeur là-bas,” which means I saw your sister over there. So, of course, we were like, what did she look like… because in Cameroon, everyone who is white is your sister. And, in true Cameroonian style, he holds up his pinky finger, and says, “Comme-sa.” Which means, like this… like a skinny white person, like my pinky finger. And I screamed back, “Comme sa n’est pas aide! Nous sommes tous comme sa!”
Quote of the Day: “Can you please put some banana bread on my pancake?” –Reflective of Cameroon’s ‘Carbs on Carbs’ system of eating as the only place in the world where carbs are considered a topping for carbs.
So I was reminded today by how pervasive American culture is everywhere else in the world. Many times a day people pass by my window singing or whistling, but today’s episode was especially interesting. A boy, who I imagine to be about 10 years old, was singing the words, “How are Yooooooouuuuu? How are Yoooooouuuuuu?” to the tune of the chorus of “Soldier Boy.”
Oh… cuteness. As I walk to school in the morning, I always pass this mother hen who just had a whole mess of chicks. They are so cute, and when she senses danger encroaching, they all run quickly underneath her and she sits down on top of them. I was reminded of my own protective parents, who so graciously have pushed me hard enough to want to go and study in Africa, but would always be there to “sit on top of me” if there was to be danger. Reminds me of a beautiful quote, “There are two lasting gifts you can give your child… one is roots, the other is wings.”
So, of course, being the driven students we are, everyone is thinking about internships for next summer since most deadlines are in November. I’ve got a few options so I thought I could get some weigh-in on the subject. I’ve applied for these positions so far:
1. Department of State summer internship program: domestic or abroad (Highly Highly Competitive; slight chances of getting accepted)
2. Almondbury Summer Au Pair (with a family in Paris or Switzerland)
3. Compete in Miss Ohio for a grad school scholarship
4. An internship with the University of Dreams at a non-profit organization in Chicago, Washington D.C., or London
5. Direct the children’s theatre again at OPA, increase my private vocal lessons, and potentially do some freelance teaching at home
6. Be a beach lifeguard and live on Virginia Beach for the summer (Haha… the least feasible, but potentially the most fun)
7. Visit my awesomely awesome Cameroonian Family, the Mgovos, which I’ll hopefully do regardless of my other plans
Do we think that’s enough? Not sure… I guess we won’t know until I get accepted.
This poor little computer is taking quite a beating… but I’m trying to love it as much I can so it isn’t too hurt. Don’t worry Jac and Tyess… it sounds worse than it is. It just needs a little TLC after being carted around Africa for 4 months.
We visited the Peace Corps and the World Bank today, which were both extremely interesting. Let me start off by saying… Dad: you need to work for the World Bank, and Mom: you should sign up for the Peace Corps. I think they would suit both of you perfectly. Anyway, the Peace Corp is certainly intense and a huge commitment of 2 years away from friends, family, and the United States. But I believe the rewards are unmatchable to some extent, and it could potentially lead to some excellent leads in government service. However, with it being such a time commitment, I’m hesitant to say I’m completely convinced of joining… I suppose I have time to think about it. However, they look for volunteers in all aspects of life, so I certainly have plenty of time to join – as do you if you’re reading this. J
The director we met with from the World Bank here was a former SIT student to Botswana who fell in love with Africa, and it’s development issues. He was the Academic Director for SIT for 2 years after he worked with an American NGO, and then he went to grad school for International Relations and Economics. Now, he’s only 35, and a director for the Cameroon Branch of the World Bank, and he is definitely making the big bucks. I think we were all simply excited to see that the success stories exist, and we are actually preparing ourselves for something by doing this.
When we refer to life in United States, we call it “Real Life.” In case I ever refer to real life in the future.
We have this really annoying neighbor who always comes over and leaves her 3 little children roaming around outside, usually naked. She seems to me to be in her late 20s, and always has an annoying attitude. My father calls her children little lost dogs because they roam around outside of their home. So I gave her children some candy necklaces, and of course she came over, and took the one I gave to my aunt – who was painstakingly peeling the scales off the fish for dinner – to eat for herself. Annoying.
15 Octobre 2008
Do you have an idea what happens when there is only one bathroom in a house, and 6 people are living there? Well… it means that when you have an American student who gets food poisoning from everything, she has to find other places to have food poisoning. And I’ll leave it at that.
5 bars of soap. I refuse to use soap anymore.
Guess who is stuck at home with her very good looking 19 year-old cousin and little brother until Friday? Turns out my father, mother, and Jojo were all headed to the funeral site leaving us to hold down the house. Which is fine except last night my mother called me anywhere from 5-10 times in the middle of the night, and again 5-10 times this morning… a little overprotective much?
