ISP et les autres choses
12 Novembre 2008
My package still is not here… Nathalie went to the post office yesterday, but could not carry the packages, so I don’t have it.
Our workout regiment sucks. It’s hard, and I hate it, but I’m still going to do it.
My family definitely thinks they have to feed me better because I gave them that stipend. For one thing, they have been making these really expensive meals for the past two nights… for instance; we had a salad of tomatoes, avocados, eggs, and lettuce before a meal of plantains and sauce, yogurt for dessert, and Fanta orange to drink. All of those things are very expensive, and very unexpected since I haven’t had them once for dinner yet. Yesterday, my mother made the African version of caviar and promptly told me that it was extremely expensive and normally only served on airplanes. Plus, my dad brought me my own package of chocolate cream filled cookies that I was told not to share with anyone else (of course I did). Plus, tonight we’re having barbecued fish with mustard because I unknowingly mentioned that I liked mustard much better than mayonnaise in the United States, and my mother then said it was a necessity that we have it then… I don’t know how to tell them that this pampering is unnecessary, and that the money is for them not for me…
When I arrived home yesterday, I walked in the door and there was a live chicken just perched on the back of one of the kitchen chair. I asked my mom why it what there, and she told me that grandma had given it to Jojo as a present (apparently it’s tradition for the grandmother to offer the baby a chicken as a gift). Anyway, I, of course, asked if that meant it was a pet, and she laughed and said, “No. It’s just not fat enough to eat.” So, now we have a live chicken strapped to a string next to the refrigerator just waiting to be fat enough…
13 November 2008
MY PACKAGE CAME!!!!!! Even though it WAS opened, and I had to pay $10 to get the box, those are the best tasting preservatives I have ever had… mini Oreos, Goldfish, buttermilk ranch pretzels, Reeses’s puffs, wheat & cheese crackers, and granola bars… all of which might as well be Jesus’s personal blessing to mankind because I could devour them all just thinking about it.
My mother yells at me every morning because my clothes aren’t ironed. And obviously, they are folded up in a suitcase, so they’re pretty wrinkled. So today she finally said, “Pourquoi Hollie? Pourquoi tu ne presse pas vos habilles?” And I said, “Maman, in the United States, we don’t iron our clothes.” And she says, “Comment tu faire?” And I say, “Rien. No one cares if your clothes are wrinkled.” So hopefully she lets that go… because I’m not going to start ironing my clothes…
So during my trip to the embassy this afternoon, I had a bit of a security problem. After I had finished going through the first metal detector, the guard told me to leave the building and start again because there was a problem. “A problem?” I thought, “what kind of problem?” So I went back outside, and the guard tells me that they have detected explosives on me. He then asks if I have touched anything that would somehow trigger this, and of course, where would I be anywhere near explosives in Cameroon. So finally about 5 more times through security, they let me in after I say that I’m really not trying to blow up the embassy; I need to do research there. Still an armed guard had to escort me into the main building. The security alert probably went up a level because of me and all of my explosives.
15 Novembre 2008
Researching certainly is a lot of work. I’ve never had to devote all of my time to compiling information on one topic before, and working solidly from 7 a.m. – 6:30 p.m. everyday after waking up at 5 a.m. is really taking it’s toll, and it’s only been a week. Hopefully, I’ll get my second wind when I begin writing my paper in the third week. However, on the flip side, it’s been a week of research already, and I only have 3 left to put all of this together.
Cameroonians have very strong stereotypes. For instance there is a cartoon that is about white explorers to Alaska, and I noticed that the characters are constantly changing color. Finally, I asked, why are they changing color? Is it something wrong with the television? And my mother responds, “Don’t you know? Like you, when whites are mad, they are red; when they are scared or sick, they are green; and when they are dead, they are blue.” And I responded, “Oh yeah, I must have forgotten that I change color with my emotions like a chameleon.” Also, they really don’t like the French. I suppose with good reason, it’s just interesting to hear how they really hate an entire country of people based on one stereotype.
I find myself wanting to spend more and more time with my family, and it seems to come at the perfect time. Usually weekends are dreaded here because there is little to do but stay around the house. However, as my friends looked for ways to get out of their homes this weekend, I’m thrilled to be staying home today. It’s finally a break from the researching, and I really can’t get enough of my family. Today, my mother gave me a gift of two more African dresses. I have an absolutely gorgeous African wardrobe, and it’s probably all I will wear at Christmas -lies, that and maybe sweatpants.
My mother and I had a long conversation this morning about being Christian. Turns out, when my family was asked if they would host a student, my mother made only one request, and that was for the student to be a Christian. Sure enough, I’m the only Christian of the 15 students on the trip, and her testimony could not have inspired me more.
A note: According to my mother, all African men are unfaithful to their wives…. So in case you were going to marry an African – think twice.
16 Novembre 2008
This has been another week of not really feeling well. Now that my stomach has adjusted to the food, my family feels it necessary to feed me tons of it. And I can only handle so much palm oil before I feel sick. Basically, the sauce of anything is just oil poured over top of it… Today, especially, I’m really feeling sick, but it’s probably because these are officially the days of the climate change. It went from being rainy and hot to dry and hotter. Almost miserable. I’m actually missing my beautiful fall/winter climate of November in Ohio.
JoJo is at a really annoying age now where he is WAY too big to be held because he’s constantly squirming around, but he can’t crawl or walk yet. Plus, it is like 100 degrees here during the day, so who wants to be holding a sweaty baby… oh well… the joys of motherhood await – I suppose it might be different with your own child.
Because Canal 2 has been cut for the past few days, we haven’t been able to watch la Belle-Mere, so instead we’ve been watching Bob L’Eponge because it’s at the same time. And I’ve transcribed some of the lyrics for you.
« Vous êtes prêtes les enfants?!
Oui Capitaine!
Je ne peux pas entendre!
Oui Capitaine!
OHHHHHH….
Qui habite dans un ananas sous la mer?
Bob L’Eponge Carre! » – Literally = Bob the square sponge.
18 Novembre 2008
This week is awful… way to many interviews, and way too much research. My head is spinning with every piece of information pertaining to foreign affairs in Africa, diplomacy, Cameroon…
However, I had an awesome day at the Embassy today. I had an appointment to meet with the Embassy’s security advisor, but she had called in sick, so instead, she had me meet with her assistant – who it turns out is a graduate of Wooster (Wittenberg’s rival school), and a native of Medina, Ohio. So, already, we are just hitting it off. Then, we have the interview in the main lobby of the embassy, and all of these people are passing us that know, this guy, Brad… so he’s introducing me to all of them. First, his wife Shirley passes by, and she is the Embassy aquatics director (which yes, they have a pool that I had no clue existed)… so I’m trying to get in on some swimming at the embassy. Then a Marine walks by, and Brad says something about how we are looking for Thanksgiving plans, and the Marine takes my phone number, and then Anne comes in, who just arrived as a Cameroonian Fulbright, and is living in an apartment in Yaounde with absolutely nothing to do. Not only that, but soon after, I was invited to sit in on an unprecedented event in the Embassy, opening it up to Cameroonian University students who are considering graduate studies in the U.S., then Brad pulled me out of the lecture because the man second in command at the embassy had some time to talk to me. All in all… it was a fabulously informative afternoon.
That chicken in the kitchen keeps me up all time. I named it Chickles… so that it was kind of like Chuckles – except sadly not at ALL because he’s not furry, or cute, or fat, or playful. He’s just dumb – and getting fatter… Chickles the not-so-silly chicken.
You know that phrase, “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite?” Well, my question is, how exactly do you make it so the bed bugs don’t bite… because they’re biting me.
I sprayed Promethrin on my sheets… which is probably toxic, but I don’t care.
I found Guacamolly!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ll explain later.
