Soon to be at post

So I forgot to mention that yesterday, we had meetings with the APCD, Kim Ahanda. She talked with each of us individually about our preferences for post placement. Basically, I told her I’m interested in having the chance to do reproductive health, or gender-related work, and that I want to be in a French-speaking province. I mentioned that the Adamawa province (which is part of the grand north, which generally tends to have more of a muslim influence) is of particular interest to me as well, but that I am pretty flexible to go anywhere. I also said that if it was possible, I wouldn’t mind being in a house with electricity. I’ve decided that running water is not super important to me, because it will be easy enough to fetch water myself or send petites (read: little kids... apparently, it's pretty common to just always send the wee children to do errands, so I'm gonna try not to feel bad about this) to get water for me. Bucket baths don’t really bother me, they’re actually kind of fun. But having a computer is like drugs to me. I am sure I would adjust just fine not having the ability to use one regularly (ie without electricity), but it really is nice to have one right now.

So we are going to find out our post placements this coming Thursday, November 1. I’m really excited. Thinking about being at post is exciting. It’s going to be wonderful to have my own space, to be able to decide how to structure my days, and to just have some privacy (granted, not a ton, because I don’t think PCVs ever really have privacy, since we tend to stick out). I’m excited to cook for myself, to do household chores, to begin to really get to know a community, and to do everything else I need to do at post. I’m also a little nervous, because as we get closer and closer to leaving for post, I realize more and more that I will be completely on my own and responsible for making myself productive. This is a little frightening. It helps that we will have a concrete objective during the first three months (i.e. to do community assessment), but it’s still a little unnerving to think about being all alone, no Americans nearby to sound off of everyday. I'm also a bit nervous about protocol. Protocol is the process of introducing oneself to a community - it's a way to sort of show respect to the notables, i.e. the people in power. Protocol is extremely important, because if you do it wrong somehow, you could fail to gain the support of the powerful people (like village chiefs, fons, or notables) in your community. And if I fail to have the support of those in power in my community, I will be, in essence, screwed. I will basically be unwelcome, and unable to do any of my work really. Plus, I probably won't be so safe, since the power-wielders in the community won't have welcomed me. Therefore, I'm pretty nervous about making sure protocol goes well when I get to post. It's supposed to be task numero uno upon arrival. To conclude, right now, I am a little nervous about the unknown, but mostly, excited. It also helps that we’ll have a chance to visit our posts in about a week and a half, which I expect will also be really fun/exciting/interesting.

Some new sh*t

So, I’d like to share some things that I find hilarious/interesting/fantastic/terrible about Cameroon, that are pretty commonplace (or at least, not that unusual):

-I was running today and I saw a moto taxi (motorcycle taxi) with a “bumper” sign that read, “Jesus knows your problem.”
-goats and chickens run around like they don’t have owners. They do have owners, but usually, they roam free. The other day, I was walking by a chicken, and perhaps I walked too close, because it flipped out, squawked and ran right across the road in front of me, until it felt like it was a safe distance from me. Kind of amusing.
-Cameroonians are very direct. If you’re fat, they’ll tell you that you’re fat. If you’re white, they’ll tell you that too. The concept of being politically correct is basically non-existent, and I kind of like it that way. By the same token, they’ll comment that you are gaining or losing weight. Generally, putting on weight is a good thing, so if someone tells you that you are “prendre les poids,” that’s a compliment. I was less then thrilled though, the other day, when my homestay father pointed out that I had “pris les poids” since arriving. Joy.
- Not so commonplace, but the other day, I was walking by myself from the market where I had just bought some bananas, and I walked past a groups of young guys. One of them followed me for awhile, and opened with “Give me 100 CFA (the monetary unit).” I said no, I didn’t have any money. Then he said “Okay, well then give me a banana.” I said no again. Then he left me alone. It was so bizarre though, as if he thought that 1) I was rich because I was white and 2) that because I was apparently white/rich, I would just give out my money/belongings if he only asked. It was really bizarre, and a bit unsettling.
- When you’re running, or do any sports, strangers who see you will greet you and say “Du courage,” which doesn’t exactly have an English translation, because its basically a way of cheering you on, or saying something like “keep it up!” It’s awesome to have a village of cheerleaders when you go running.
- Little kids think white people are hilarious. It doesn’t matter what I do, my mere existence is wildly entertaining. One day, I was walking to market, and I had an entourage of wee little followers. Most often, they’ll just say “good morning” or “good afternoon” – sometimes in English and sometimes in French – and then crack up when you reply in kind. This day, however, they were actually following me, so I turned around suddenly and play-screamed at them and they all cracked up. The kids here are fantastic.
-If it’s raining when you’re supposed to be going somewhere, you’re just not expected to be on time. One morning, I was getting ready to go to training, and I came into the living area of my homestay house to get breakfast, but nothing was ready. My father said, “what’s the hurry? It’s raining, it’s fine. Wait until it stops raining to leave.” So I was late. Which was fine, but it’s just funny how that’s pretty much an acceptable excuse for tardiness. In fact, Cameroonians would say it’s more important to be well-dressed and presentable than to be on time.
-I haven’t had a hot shower in over a month now. And I’ve pretty much gotten used to it. And that’s fantastic.
-People will often try to get your attention by making a kissing sound at you. And this is not necessarily always a call for sexual attention – it might just be that they want to alert you to the fact that the moto taxi is there in case you were looking for one. It’s also used during soccer matches to alert fellow teammates that you’re open for a pass.
-Guys hold hands. This is wonderful.
-I went out tonight wearing a tank top and gauchos and felt like a slut almost the entire time. People dress really conservatively here, so this was a very racy outfit. And I had wet hair because I had just showered. Wet hair is considered really sexy as well, so I basically just looked like a whore.

Some pictures

Another note about my blog. You can ignore the post date – the REAL date is when I write the blog in the comfort of my own little home. The post date is simply when I finally got my ass in gear to a cyber-café to post the entry. I opted to post some photos this time around because I haven’t yet done that, and I bet people are already sick of reading my meandering and often boring thoughts on life here. Pictures are far more digestable. So here we go:

The skies in Cameroon are quite different from the US. Maybe it’s because there’s less electricity, pollution, etc etc, so there’s less distortion, but the clouds sometimes do crazy (read: fantastic) things. Like this day, when the sky literally turned completely orange-pink right around sunset, and I felt like I was enveloped in a giant peep. What was remarkable was just how pervasive this pink-orange glow was. It made the air feel different. It was pretty dope.

Did I mention that where I currently live is gorgeous? I don’t think I have, but it is.

This was supposed to be a photo of this gorgeous view just around the corner from my house, but it didn’t quite come out as I had hoped. Bangangte is quite hilly, so there’s an awesome view of something around just about every corner. This one’s nice because it’s so close to home.


I would love to post more photos, but it took about an hour to do just these three, in this tiny small format, so I think this will have to suffice.

A note about the title

A note about the title of my blog. One of our training activities introduced us to a number of proverbs from various cultures. The proverb I was given was “small small catch monkey,” which is apparently a Cameroonian proverb in pidgin English. Two of Cameroon’s ten provinces speak English and many of the border regions of these provinces speak pidgin English, which is a combination of two languages, in this case English and native Cameroonian dialects (I think). The proverb means that no one can catch a monkey if he jumps at the primate quickly and suddenly – it takes time. That is, little by little, if you work slowly and carefully, you can sneak up on the monkey and catch it.

I chose to title my blog as such because I think this is a pretty great metaphor for the entire Peace Corps experience. In so many ways, Peace Corps is a slow, gradual process, exacted in baby steps – of adjusting to an unfamiliar culture, of learning a new language, of becoming a member of a community and not just “white man” (although, many current PCVs have told us that we may always be referred to as “white man” regardless of how integrated into a community we become), of recuperating after being ill, of working towards behavior change in a community, of learning about oneself. For me, this proverb seems like it will embody my experience in its entirety, and it was altogether too perfect not to name my blog as such.

If I ever contact you upset about something, ready to pack up and ship home, I’d appreciate it if you could remind me, “small small catch monkey.”