So the long and short of my trip to Yaounde was that the test results showed nothing… A good and a bad thing, I suppose, because although it does make me feel a little better that I do not have a waterborne illness that has been causing damage to my intestines for the past few months as I had started to fear, but it is incredibly frustrating that there is nothing I can do about the problems I do still have. Anyone who has been to Africa knows what I am talking about. The upside to my little trip to the big city was that I was just in time for the national artisan’s festival! It resembled very closely a hometown or state fair in the states, with organized rows of stalls selling crafts, clothes, jewellery, and food — a phenomenon here in Cameroon. There was basically no derangement, and everything was super clean and hygeinic! The fair grounds were arranged by region, so there were three or four rows of stalls for each of the 10 regions centered around a big tent that had samples of that region’s cultural practices and a fake chefferie (tribal heirarchy) complete with costumes. There were pygmy tents scattered around the East section and random photo opp spots with models in traditional dress to pose with. I felt a little like I was at Disneyland or something. I ran into our honey man (Bertoua has a famous honey man) who knows me as Mary (Molly is very difficult for Cameroonians to say, so I have started giving up on trying to correct them and have even started introducing myself as Mary or Marie) and LOVES the Peace Corps because we give him so much business! He sets his honeycombs into fields or specific flowers or fruit trees to give his honey different natural flavors. He has coffee (to die for, really), orange, bokassa (a kind of flower), savannah, wildflower, and mango (waiting very impatiently for mango season so I can try this!) for 2,500 cfa a jar ($5). Even if he does call me Mary, it is a wonderful break from “la blanche!” or “Nasarrah!” so I buy his honey and sell my friends on buying more of his honey whenever I can.
After this, a friend and I decided to splurge a little and hit up the Hilton Happy Hour. Now that was culture shock. Yes, there is a Hilton in Yaounde. Walking in was a surreal experience — it even smelled like a real Hilton in the states (although that may just mean it was clean… my standards are not what they once were). It was quiet, clean, and very western looking. The Happy Hour is up on the roof terrace that overlooks all of Yaounde. Had a mojito and some super tropical drink and thought I’d die of happiness haha. There is a LOT of drinking going on here in Cameroon, but not much in the way of variety… i.e. it’s African laager Castel, French laager 33, the weird Cameroonian brewed Guiness, the better Cameroonian Guiness Smooth (tastes more like a Guiness in Europe and the states), and a couple varieties of boxed wine. There is the option of wine in a bottle in Bertoua (not in village), but in general it is WAY out of my price range. So I have been drininking a lot of beer… and not good beer at that. SO the chance to have a real mixed drink in a clean, comfortable, carpeted, airconditioned bar with a view of all of Yaounde was definitely worth the heavy price of 5,000 francs for 2 drinks (about $10). To round out the night of ungodly splurges and culture shock, we decided to try out a restaurant that we had heard of with good western food with real service and table cloths. Oh my goodness, La Salsa was all that and MORE. There was a manicured garden patio and inside dining roomboth furinished with beautiful, clean table cloths, candles, and real menus. Since it was our last night in Yaounde before heading back to post, we decided it was ok to spend as much money on one dinner as we generally spent in an entire week, and let me tell you I do not regret a second of it. You need splurges like that every now and again, if you ask me. It’s good for the soul… in moderation haha.
After all this, I was very ready to come back home to my post (which is really starting to feel like home now) and start back at work. On my first day back I arrived at 8:30 instead of 9 because I figured I had been away for a whole week, I should probably swing by to see what I might have missed, and SURPRISE I was apparently supposed to be teaching that morning starting at 7:30! Don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but a little notice would have been nice. Not only did I get criticized for showing up late, but I also got guilt tripped for missing my classes last week. I got ONE call all week from my youth center, and that came from my community host the night before asking if I was back in Bertoua and if I could come in to work on Monday. No one called me all week asking where I was, and apparently, no one took over the classes either — they became free periods for the kinds. In disbelief I was ushered into one classroom for the last 10 minutes of class… so I introduced myself to them for probably the 3rd or 4th time and said I would be back next week with a lesson plan. I tried explaining to the directice that no one had notified me that I needed to come up with a lesson plan and I had no idea what subjects I was supposed to cover and which ones the old teacher had already covered in “causerie educatif” (life skills) only to discover that this period, like the clubs at theis youth center were brand new and it was up to me, basically to come up with a curriculum. Cool. At this point, I was then shuffled into the Year 2 classroom to give an hour long lesson… No one seemed to believe me that I had no lesson plan… so in the end I ended up rambling about the Peace Corps and the diversity of the United States for the full hour. Although everyone here seems to know that US exists and in a very powerful and wealthy country, for the most part, no one has a concept of where it is, how big it is, our history (it blew the kids minds that we were once a colony too), and our cultural diversity. People ask me about what I ate back home all the time and I love to see their faces when I explain that I eat a lot of Italian, Indian, Japanese, and Mexican food. It always starts a wonderful explanation that Americans, although we all (for the most part) identify as Americans, we are a country of immigrants. I tried to explain the different waves of immigration, risidual effects of colonial influence (French vs British vs Spanish), and even regional geographic diversity. It always surprises me that the Country known for its diversity and as “Africa in Miniature” would have such difficulty imagining the US which is undoubtably MUCH larger than Cameroon could be diverse too.
That bullet dodged, I showed up to the CMPJ the next day to find out that I was supposed to teach the kids to sing Amazing Grace for the National Youth Minister’s visit on Friday (this was Tuesday). no warning on this one either, I’m afraid, so no, I did not know all the lyrics to Amazing Grace. That wasn’t enough to get me out of this, I was supposed to teach what I knew and a student would be sent to a nearby internet cafe to look up the rest of the song. I am pleased to report that this all went over much better than expected! The kids have learned the song really quickly considering it is not in their mother tongue! The past week of teaching the song during breaks has been one of the most rewarding experiences I have had so far in country. It gave me the opportunity to bond with some of the kids and helped me prove to myself that there was actually something (no matter how small) I could bring to the table. It did not even bother me when Friday came and the Directrice decided she didn’t want the kids to sing anymore, the performance was not nearly so important to me as the process was. This center may frustrate the hell out of me at times, but I really love the kids there. I couldn’t be happier.
