There is a huge manqué de penser avec raison. From the time they enter into school, these kids are drilled to memorize; to act as a robot in replying. When I ask, “What is your name?” “My name’s so-and-so.” Never, “It’s… I’m called…” or just the plain name. Also, “How are you?” “I’m fine, thank you.” Is the response. These questions are like triggers, for example when you type and spell-check recognizes an error it automatically corrects the misspelling to the right way. Automatic, programmed. Even when I ask questions in class, they can’t give a reason, why? They just jot down what they previously heard. They really can’t think for themselves. (I’m zooming in the humdrums of the Lycee de Belel). For example, who is your idol, I write on the board. I give examples; my idol is Barrack Obama because he’s the first African-American president. They repeat exactly what I wrote on the board… or Nelson Mandela… because… then respond en français. They need some notes to help them. (That goes into another story). The other sad thing, I’m teaching two foreign languages. I feel so bad, I have to speak in FRENCH almost the majority of the time so that the students are able to understand the theory behind why a certain grammar point is the way it is… another example of backwards society en brousse. There is virtually no imagination, no creativity among my students. There are the selective few. However, imagination ceases to exist here. All they know is eat, sleep, shit, the ways to be self-sufficient. Most families have farms. The running concept here is that the teacher is always right. The Cameroon teachers dictate with really no explanation; there is no challenge from students as to why or why not? (This is from my own experience in Belel. It could be similar or different with other TEFL volunteers). Then those little brats make fun of señora/madame because I can’t pronounce something right in French/ write incorrectly on the board. I’m not perfect. I throw it right back in their faces, if you’re so smart tell me, explain this grammar point. Teaching teenagers has hardened me. It’s a double-edged sword- you have to be tough and a bitch for them to eventually respect you… or they’ll walk all over you if you laugh with them. I learned the hard way.The best way to get at a student is humiliation. I make them stand up and pronounce an English or Spanish word and sound it out. The others snicker; until I point out another kid and then he eventually shuts up because he can’t pronounce the word either. Ha. I don’t mean to sound sour, it can be amusingly sadistic…Hasta luego todos! :0)

I thought of an interesting blog: money comparison between the US and Cameroon. Cameroon uses the western and Central African currency CFA. Forget about checks, credit or debit cards. Here in good ‘ole Cameroon is the cash system. Towards the bigger cities, it is possible to use credit cards in, say, a grocery store (French one in Yaoundé). However, I wouldn’t trust it. The Cameroon currency is made up of 10,000 CFA (20 bucks) 5,000 (10 bucks) 2,000; 1,000 and 500 ($1) respectively. The coins are in 500; 100; 50; 10; and 5. 100CFA would probably be 20 cents. With 100 CFA, I can get one bunch of carrots, a taz of tomatoes, 3 bananas (big ones), a medium sized green pepper, and small bag (sandwich bag size) of sugar to just give a few examples. For $1 I can get a dinner meal (Spaghetti with a red sauce). · Rent is 25,000 a month ($50) for a kitchen, latrine, salon, bedroom, and a bedroom/storage room. (About ¾ the size of the upstairs of my parents’ house) · To buy a pange: 5,000- ($10) and to have it made: 3,000 ($6) is quite the deal, but also can be expensive if you consistently get dresses and outfits made.· A .5 liter of coke is $1, for a can of Pepsi found in the bigger cities is about 2 mil ($4).· For good Cameroon food found in the Muslim country, $3 can get you French fries, and Philly style steak (a lot of Maggi and vegetable oil).· To get from my post to Ngaoundere where we have our regional house for the Adamawa province: where one can access internet, have running water, and more constant electricity, is 1,800 (rounded to $4). However, that’s for 4-6 hours of unpaved road, stopping for prayer hour and picking up others along the way….· If you want a wagon lit its 25,000 CFA one way. Round trip: ($100) that’s an expensive round trip!! Luckily I don’t go down much to the capital Yaoundé. · Our monthly stipend is 175,000CFA. Yearly we poor PCV’s make about $3300. And some want to start at a $40,000 job in the USA. Well, I’m pobre.

Well, that’s about all I can think of right now. Being in Cameroon almost a year and half, I’ve come out of touch with the realities of expensiveness state-side and even Europe. Á bientôt.

It's been awhile. In a few days Cameroon will have its 2011 presidential elections, however, that doesn't mean much to anyone really outside Cameroon. Will have an update about that in a month... Frankly, at my post en brouuse, no one really cares. My friend's mother said she is not voting, "Voting is for the youth, not old people like me." She's about forty. ...For the next couple weeks we are going on "Standfast" which means volunteers are not allowed to leave their post. Taking precautions if something terrible goes down. There are people running...you see flyers all about the town. I find it funny the current president has his photo with the slogan "The People's Choice" and his picture of him is in his late 50's. He's currently in his mid 80's presumably.

Just the other day I became engraged with my 8th grade students (beginner spanish). It's a class of two hours, and half way through they gonged (the school bell) and the students started exalting, "Senora, je suis fatigue, c'est la pause". No, it is not the pause I bellowed back. It's just the change of classes for others. There was chatter and laugther by some. I became so fed-up I told one of my trusted students, "Watch my things!" I stormed right out of the classrom to the principa'ls office up the hill across the route en terre my feet dusted with red. I said, "Right now I need help." As all Cameroonians, they walk slowwww. We finally made it to the classroom of apprehensive teenagers with the look of undeniable fear.

With the deity of the school there, I had the class around my finger. I yelled in my broken Cameroon French (a joke for the actual French poeple) and yelled, "I don't understand. You know me. Education is not a joke. You come here and joke around waisting your time. Its sad!. You are lucky to be here, getting some type of education in this poor country in Africa. There are others who can't even scrounge enough money for food and you're here joking that everything is joyous." I continued to scream and highlight the fact they are lucky, out of the poorest continent on the planet they laugh at the joke of an education, cliche as it is, is their only hope, corruption aside, foreign aid. I finished, "Le future du Cameroon ici qui blague, je suis desolee." After I started to kick students out and will minus one point on their exam next week. Don't come if you don't want to, there's the door, it's your choice and your problem ultimately. My philosophy. Take it or leave it.

Finally, to be a happy 2nd year volunteer, it's what matters at the end of the day right? So irritated by apathetic enthusiam for anything, in the evening I drifted to my student's house, the one who gives me hope. I chatted with the mother in broken fufulde and French and with the sister. I smiled, ate some Cameroon mint (not too bad) and went home rejuvinated. It's the small things that make it worthwhile here and keep me sane in a backwards society

My experience in Cameroon on the concept of waiting is unraveled. For example, I wait for a moto: about ten minutes... (my instant gratification becomes irritable and impatient!), waiting for someone to come to your house... an hour-two hours because of the rain, or they are taking their time to look "presentable". Waiting for a meeting to start, 30 minutes to an hour, waiting for it to end... over three-four hours because they argue about wearing jeans to school... waiting for my bag to be dropped to me... 5-10 mintues which seems like an hour because of the harrasment and hot African sun scorching your skin... waiting for little friend in village ( I was an hour late, supposed to be there at 10... we went to the friend's house at noon, because she wasn't ready.)... waiting for my landlord to fix my grass fence... two months...because of rain... waiting for student to respond after ten times (literally) in ten different ways, even his mother tongue: about five minutes....waiting for my bus to go to Ngaoundere one-two hours...

Therefore, waiting here is part of life... What are they waiting for? There are no deadlines to be met. The old man sitting under the tree with his legs crossed or the three young men sitting in front of the boutique wait. They wait, wait, wait for the future. What future exactly? The development of Cameroon? Paved roads, the messiah? Waiting is a huge part of their journey, is there a destination? Probably not. "Attendez un peu" could mean 5 mintues to a few months. Time does not equal money here. Therefore, waiting is the way of life.

In the dry season, on a good day it takes about 4 1/2 hours from post to the regional capital. In the rainy season, on a good day, it takes about 5-6 hours from post to regional capital and vice versa (if you take the 6am bus...otherwise, at 1p.m. you stop for 30 min so the Muslim men can pray, and again at 3:30 pm...) The road is unpaved and in horrible condition; potholes everywhere. Your body is shaking as if you're on one of those beds in motel you put a quater into to vibrate. In the rainy season when there is mud, sometimes the "prison bus" will lean at a 30 degree angle to drive through it, and then it slides (like black ice in winter). Luckily, in my day, my ride as never toppled over. Africans try to fit more on the bus disregarding any safety concern. It's usually five to a row, and then young mothers carry their infants and maybe a two year old as well; people in back standing up and one time the helpers were on the roof. In this joy ride you experience inevitable bad breath, emanating body odor, your nostrils inhale passed gas; I've become accustomed to their odor (a specific odor found in a majority..mostly men.). Now, my observation is very narrow. There are many other modes of transportation in other regions. I'm just highlighting my monthly experience.

Baggage is put on top of the car

Where we get the term "Prison Bus". The driver to the left.

What passenger sitting looks like.

In Belel waiting to leave, bus spewing out exhaust... this would not go over well in states.

I've realized recently, that things you can get away with living in Cameroon, you'd be outcasted by society, put in jail or people will just plain stare out at you like a freak in our own culture...

Only in Afrca can you:

make a nine year old wash your floors.have an 11 year old wash your clothes, bed sheets, and jeanstake a kid of from a stranger and hold it, or tell the kids you don't know to be quiet and not get scolded by the parent < What right do you have shouting at my kids?> Yes, I think parents in the Western world are too sensitive when it comes to their children; we've evolved into over-protective parents. However, considering what exists out there, I understand why.wear crazy colored outfits of different patterns and fit right inbe late to a meeting and not get in trouble have no sense of orderly lines waiting to get on a bus

So, I was in the capital, Yaounde for mid-service. I was taking a taxi to the bank one day. Here you have to put up your guard as soon as you walk out of the transit house. I go into Bitch-mode. Anyways, after hailing down at least ten taxi's, I finally got one that would take me to my destination.

Here you have to call out where you are going and give the price you would pay. Completely backwards yes. It takes more time.

Anyways, as I got in, this obnoxious asshole kept deranging me. Asking me all these questions, and just wouldn't leave me alone. I spoke in English and swore a bit. Then yelled in French, " I said, leave me alone!" I pretended to call our Mr. American President. He also said, "You are here in Africa, a women shouln't talk back to a man."

After 10 minutes of this, he finally got out of the taxi. The Cameroonian sitting next to me said, "If you go to the states, she will laugh at you." And then he shut the F up.

So, this guy sitting next to me was right, if he went to the states he'd get bitch-slapped and probably put in jail for harrasment. So, that made my day...

After the harrasment, someone actually contstructively thinks. Good Riddance.

Had my student braid my hair as you can see. Then I had my neighbors untress me and my hair was wild and puffy. C'est l'afrqiue!

It's been a year since I've been here in Cameroon. One year down, one to go (and a month or so). This past year, I could say, I've learned a life time's worth. I've grown so much, positively. Example: I'm more comfortable with myself as an individual, more assertive, more confident, more self-aware, open-minded, more accepting, less tolerant of bullshit.

This year has flown by, and it's a common topic to discuss between volunteers about how service goes fast. There are times when it seems like an eternity. I would wake up and say, "Awe man, it's only Tuesday." However, before I know it, it's Friday afternoon and the weekend. Moreover, I'd wake up and say, "It's only Feburary." And here I am, last day in May.

Reflecting, doing Peace Corps you sacrafice a lot to come here. For example, giving up reliable internet, running water, electricity, efficiency, adequate communication, set prices, good public transportation, credit cards, ACCOUNTABILITY, rules... Everyday I am called "nassara" (white person). I get deranged walking to the market (more so in the city, because in the village people know I live there and that I teach their children at the high school). You don't get that in the states.

On another level, the friends I've made in village -I've dialoged with students or neighbors. I've concluded no matter how close you get, you can't virtually engage in a profound conversation. A cause of this would be language barrier, or no reflection trying to assess a situation from another's perspective. However, there are some people that do "get it" 99.9%.

Trust is another. I will never 100% trust a Cameroonian because you will always be a little different because you are American... or because "we are not many in Africa" as my student put it. Though, there are those who I trust. (Because I can go their parents and "tell on them").

Also, if you are having a difficulty, for example a Cameroonian deranges you and you are with one they will not stick up for you... So no point, in trying to rely on them to support you (for yelling at another Cameroonian that it's not polite to derange)

My blogs sound philosophical... En fin: I'm glad that this year has passed by fast. Not that I don't regret doing Peace Corps, I would not skip this for the world. It's not that bad- I'm a lot stronger because of it.

I've become a neat freak while living in Africa, well since high school. I don't like clutter. I sweep my floors every two days, wash them weekly, because my cement floors are red because of tracking in the red mud. My one student finds it amusing that I constantly sweep. "Ca ma plae madame." I told a kid that washes my floors (again no child labor laws here, he's like 9) that he's not allowed in my house unless he washes himself and his clothes. One day he came back 20 minutes later with his feet washed. Hah! If I wanted a kid to leave me alone, I'd start doing some school work. One girl was sitting then she said, "Im going madame." Because she became bored when I was working. I'm not afraid to tell kids they smell. One kid came into my house with horrendous body odor (deoderant is expensive, and most kids can't afford it) However, I told him he brought a rancid smell with him and ruined my salon atmosphere and that he needs to wash himself. Sorry, I have no mercy.Well, I'm offically done for the year. These past few weeks have been hectic and frustrating. Grading, calculating, filling out by hand report cards, holding review sessions. Also, dealing with my vice principal who is an asshole expecting me doing all the dirty work... I started my adult English class. There were only six people, but, I enjoy that so much more than 120 thirteen year olds annoying the hell out of me.

Africa Photos

More Africa Photos

(If you have facebook...)

Here are some photos for your viewing pleasure.

Well, peace out! Say eso.

I do have some hope. Out of hundreds, I have some ambitious students. They are mainly males… I told a student in my ninth grade class that I wanted to speak to his mother. So a couple a weeks ago, after thirty minutes of searching, sweating and asking semi-incompetent students if they knew where his house was, I found him. (Thinking that everyone knew everyone, and everyone was someone’s brother, I was wrong… they didn’t know where he lived/who he was). This student comes from a poor family, the father passed away, the mother struggles to find an income- it is difficult to send her kids to school. (There are five.) In Cameroon you have to pay to go to high school (public high school!), a result of major corruption that starts at top and trickles down. So, I spoke in Fulfulde. I had help from my counter-part… to summarize: “I teach your son at the high school. I am proud to be his teacher. He is an exemplary student, and never ceases to amaze me. I wish him luck in everything.” I was shaking, sweating, and nervous to start; the words did not come out. Really! I believe it is important to recognize excellence, or even good effort.

This kid (he’s 18… here in Africa students are older than your normal school age kids in the states), was top of his class, always had excellent grades, and was very quiet to the point I would wonder if he didn’t get what I was teaching. He’s a needle in the haystack. Phenomenal. During the summer he searches for fire word and sells it to have an income… Poverty is not hard to come by. School fees are about forty dollars... going to university is about $300 a year. The mother wants me to visit more often now. At the end of the visit, they gave me bananas (too many for one person) I tried to refuse. “Madame, no, they are for you.” Before we trekked off to see the other boys play football I wanted to see my students play) he said, “Madame you remember where my house it now, right?” :-)

Ole. Hasta luego.

This school year has almost come to a close. I technically finished teaching the last week of April. However, I still have to administer a test, grade more papers, fill 250 report cards by hand, calculate a class of 50 students’ averages (Du courage to all teachers and professors who do this), ensure the exam classes are well prepared for the BEPC and Probatoire in English and Spanish (basically, if they have a question, they come to me… I DO NOT seek out their difficulties. Also, I’ll be giving review classes the next month for those who want. It’s essentially the serious students.) It’s going to be a headache… but this is the last of it. Finalment :-)

I can say over the course of the year, I’ve learned a lot- probably a life time’s worth of lessons. Optimistically, the Peace Corps experience has allowed me to grow immensely. I am completely comfortable in my village, I feel safe. I am stronger, more assertive (in some areas), and over all, comfortable with myself as an individual. Therefore, on puet dire that I’m happy, despite the harsh realities of life.

Some advice I can give after being here for a year, especially in village are: it’s agitating, but if you want something done, derange the hell out of a Cameroonian (basically reverse the roles and you annoy them) I get a kick out of it sometimes; especially my neighbors (I’m sure they’ve become irritated. Hah!)

- Make an effort to learn the language, dress the part (wear pagne), and visit (go during dinner or lunch they will feed you cous-cous, if you’re up for it…). Honestly, you’ll gain more respect that way AND learn something.

- Don’t be afraid to say NO, and tell a white lie. It won’t do any harm. I learned the hard way, if you display mucho generosity… they will suck you dry. Therefore, set boundaries. Reward hard work… I give cheap dollar store toys when children fill my bedoins with water.

- Get the kids to do dirty work if you feel lazy… in Africa, there are no child labor laws, and it’s culture that the kids do manual labor.

- Choose your battles… it’s not worth getting upset over the frivolous.

- Even though people live half way across the globe, exert different perspectives, think backwards (no constructive thinking)… humans ubiquitously share the same emotions…. Anger, laughter, sadness, despair, and so forth…. So don’t judge…

- Only work with those who show interest. It’s a waste of time trying to mobilize those who are apathetic. You’re happy; they’ll continue living their way…

I’ve decided to work on a small scale. I am more comfortable that way. I wanted to get books for these students. However, how would it be sustainable? The semi-existing library is practically barren. I believe a good number were stolen by students. The school, I think, has gone to hell. The administration is not supportive, teachers are absent. (The other English teacher decided to show up after a 4 month hiatus). I told her; your students are not happy with you. The lack of respect and disturbance continues. At this rate, as most education volunteers, they choose the classes they want for the next year. Moreover, Ed. volunteers only get involved in activities they feel are worth it. In this instance, it’s ok to conform. At the level of working with my school, I feel jaded.

Hello to all. It has been quite a while. I've been at post for a little over five weeks with no internet or electricty. Every year on March 8th, is International Women's Day. I don't believe we celebrate it in the USA because, there is pretty much equality between men and women chez nous. However, in places like Africa where "women are considered inferior to men", observe the holiday.

I celebrated women's day in Belel with my community. The festivities started a week before with a discussion (that was boring and no one really showed up, because in Belel cutlure women aren't valued to be honest with you), and a soccer match. The night before March 8th was was an event of sketches, dances, and music. It was pretty fun, a lot of students and the community showed up. The day of, we marched in the heat. We were supposed to start at nine, however, on African time we started at 11. I got burned. In the evening there was a football match (soccer). My team one, I haven't sprinted like that since high school. My post-mate and I played with girls who are eleven years old and quite fast. All of my students came and heard my "Ole" when I ran past. I'm sure they got a kick when the ball went right past me. After, there was a party for the women who paid.

Now, what enraged me was this day is supposed to symbolize the equality between men and women. However, some notions are that (from Africans) it is a day for women to wear panya and get drunk. During our parade there were virtually no spectators. Again, in Belel cutlure (Muslim) women are not valued. What enraged me the most was during the party at the end of the night, it was the women who cooked the food all day. When it was time to do the buffet style, the men were invited first to eat. Moreover, the young students who where hired for the night to chase away the kids who would derange were also served before the women. I left with my blood boiling. I refused to support a party, a day where in reality doesn't mean a thing. So at the end of the day, does Women's Day really mean anything?

Today I was waiting for the street guy to make me a spaghetti/omlette sandwhich (loving those carbs and may I say have come to enjoy it). This woman sitting on the bench was checking herself in a bright pink compact with gaudy lipstick colors. As I kept observing, a revelation came. It doesn't matter where you are in this world, thoughts of "Is my hair in place?", "Is there lipstick on my two front teeth?", or "Is my mascara running?"etc, etc.. run through the minds of all shapes and sizes, developing nations to industrial nations, even different cultural backrounds.

My fifteen year old neighbor who knows poverty very well, will be late because she has to put lip-gloss on or make sure her shoes match the color of her panya. Very fashionable... and does not want to become like me (with a big butt or her mother who had five children). She likes the "skinny body".

Moral of the story: Importance of appearance and beauty extends all over.

While teaching my junior class (Premiere) the subjunctive in Spanish, a student wrote the following example:

Es necessario que las mujeres trabajen bien para tener la confianza de sus maridos.

Translation: It's necessary that women work hard in order to have the trust of their husbands.

Overall, I was pleased with the correctness of the grammar. However, is this a direct reflection of inveterated culture (male superiority)? What do you think?

Sanguine Spanish:

Me parece bien que la senora haya venido aqui a Belel para ensenarnos.

(A corrected version of what a student wrote)

Translation: To me, I find it amazing that senora has come here to teach us.

I can finally say, I earned respect from my students (not all, but some). Entonces, ese hecho, me puse contenta :-)

Ole!

You know you’re in Cameroon when:

1. You come home from somewhere and eight cockroaches are roaming in the hallway. Why? Because you forgot to cover the latrine whole.

2. Two goats are reproducing on your front lawn.

3. You show up fifteen minutes late to a meeting, and discover no one is there yet.

4. A student has a fit, tries biting people and even the nurse at the town health center blames witchcraft.

5. A person wants to marry someone outside of his religion because they will respect him. He believes women in his religion don’t respect men.

6. In the 21st century a student believes men are superior to women in Africa.

7. When your colleagues argue about wearing jeans to school for an hour during an assembly for teachers…

8. Communication lacks as a priority.

Hello to all again.

As 2010 is coming to a close, so is the novelty of being in Cameroon. As service progresses, I’ve acclimated to Belel’s lifestyle; i.e. no running water, electricity from 6pm to 10pm when the corrupt mayor is town to see one of his four wives, and adapting my food diet couscous and Maggi (MSG in a cube). Teaching has become a routine in my daily village life and I can finally say I’m comfortable.

There is so much to say, how do I organize?

At my IST (In-Service Training) we had week-long conference learning about funding and reporting on projects we undertake. Also, we had meetings with our Cameroonian counter-parts; how to work together more efficiently. I noticed while sitting there observing, not to sound pessimistic; I thought, “No wonder nothing is accomplished in a timely manner…” I’ve noticed when Cameroonians talk, they tend to tell stories to get their point across and, then, add another one to emphasize or give multiple examples. Moreover, they do not consider keeping meetings within the given time frame.

An anecdote: As a Cameroonian counterpart was talking; he took his pen cap to clean out ear…

Having mentioned that; I will continue with more habits:

My neighbor’s aunt cut his toe nails. They shoot snot-rockets. While traveling, a little 3 year old whipped his hose out and peed in front of a store. They think wearing glasses is a “maladie” (an illness...) More to come…

For 2011: Aspirations:

The troubling reality about developing schools encompasses insufficient textbooks, dictionaries, or books for students or simply a non-existent library. When I first arrived at post, I was discouraged. In the teacher’s room I yelled in French/English, “How can you teach?! That is the problem; there are no books, nothing!” I hit a bump in the road, felt held back and uncertain of where to turn. Eventually the principal (my counterpart) gave me some resources of the old Spanish teacher to help me, guide me, to prepare lessons for classes.

I would like to look into getting text books for the schools; necessary books for students to utilize. I even talked to each of my senior students (dropped that class… it was too much teaching five different levels) and asked what they really needed and wanted. I listed to their concerns. They want documents to practice. Everything is theory, there is no application.

However, having dialogued with fellow PCV’s, it would be a huge project. I’m first going to assess and talk to Cameroonians. It is necessary. This would be my biggest project and frustration challenging me. I will decide whether I want to undertake it…

On a smaller scale; I want to work with girls in my community. I believe there is a need to focus on them. Why? Well, because for one, there is a problem of girls sleeping with male teachers at my school. Where is the self-respect? What is the reality? Most likely, these girls need money or in order to go to next level at school. I hope to be a positive influence, more humbly, give some perspective. I asked my neighbor, who I consider my second family, what she believes about being a female in a Muslim community. She is single-mother. “Self-respect.” she exalted. The family is an exception and pretty progressive, all circumstances considered.

Frustrations:

1. Pretty much everywhere I go people ask me for money and ask me I bought them something while going out of town. They see white and think rich.

2. Students deranging the hell out of me in class… Especially the 7th grade class. I had my vice principal yell at them. Now my tactic will employ taking points off for disruption.

3. Having the courage to say what I feel and not worrying about what people think.

4. Bargaining. I choose my battles if I feel like haggling for a cheaper price.

5. Heat! I’m blessed to be posted in a village 3,000 km above sea level!

6. Language barrier.

7. Being asked if I’m married. “Are you married? Do you have children? Why not?”

8. The reality of development work… is it sustainable?

9. Corruption existing before me. As time unravels, I see more clearly and can identify corruption. At first, I was blind.

10. Students and teachers treat education as a joke. For example, teachers don’t show up until October. The daughter of the mayor flirting with the vice principal while I’m sitting in the other room. (Oh how I wanted to go in there, grab the girl by the ear, and gritar: “Tu fait quoi? Quel est ton problem?”

Realizations:

1. You can’t force people to change, they have to do it by themselves and yearn to.

2. Development and behavior change are very slow processes.

3. Colonization fucks up people. (Excuse my abrasive language).

4. Missionary workers fuck up peoples’ mentalities. They have this dependency on receiving and expecting others to solve their problems. My student asked me “Madame I have a problem. I was wondering…” Before he could finish; I blurted “I’m NOT going to buy you a ball.”

5. I think money is evil. More to come.

I will post more up-beat adventures!

Hasta luego!

My friend Kyrstina (fellow PCV in Cameroon) came to visit and took a photo: Teaching my beginner spanish class

Playing with neighborhood girl...

Fete de Mouton:

November 17, 2010 I partied with my post-mate at chez Sadjo. We designed our feet in Sheefa and ate a lot of food, pop-corn, fried shrimp bisquits, gateaux, rice, fish, fried plantains, and other things. Usually, on fete de Mouton, families kill a sheep to eat. However, the Sadjo family could not buy one, so we ate fish. People go around and visit other families in the village. In this culture, the holiday was on a Wednesday, but people feted Thursday, Friday and into the weekend. It was a relaxing day.

This past month, I’ve started eating daily with a Cameroonian family in my neighborhood. I devour the carbohydrate rich couscous with a sauce with many condiments including MSG-in-a-cube (MAGGI). The mother, Madame Sadjo is a single mother, because the father died about seven years ago. I feel they are more progressive than the typical family en brousse in Cameroon. There are five children ranging from 22 to 9.

The more fascinating thing: family disputes, gossips, fights are trans-cultural and trans-global. I may sound like an ignorant enlightened. I’ve become basically the “grande seour” (big sister) of the family. At 6:30 a.m. some mornings I hear knock-knock... “Andrea, Andrea… tu est la?” Or at other inconvenient times: I am in the middle of a bucket bath with a knock, knock at the door to come to dinner.

Deconstructing family dinner:

The oldest son get’s his own plate as well as I because I am the “guest” or probably because I am the “Nassara”. The rest of the family, the females: eat with their right hand and share a communal plate of couscous and share a communal plate of the “sauce”. I wonder how illness spreads quickly. Hmmm. One can look at this as gender differences.

Some gender differences:

From my post-mate  Women are not aloud of their houses… Their jobs are to cook, clean, raise the children. (I walk around and see these Muslim men sitting there… no wonder there is no work ethic here…my prejudice tangent)

From my counter-part In all Africa the woman is considered second class. Women are placed behind men. “It is not like in your country where there is equality”.

From my observations  At the high school there are more boys than girls. My student told me men are stronger than females. Well, naturally! There derives another possibility that supports men’s “superiority”. They only consider physical strength.

Men can have more than one wife… I personally believe in monogamy. Younger women (girls at 15) are desirous for marriage because they are more likely to do as they are told.

The male students feel the need to push the buttons and “chercher la problem” more so with female teachers. Students live in “fear” of male teachers at my school.

Field in BelelA Kid with shoes on wrong side of feet

Some quotes:

"Here in Africa there is sorcery, is there sorcery in the States." My neighbor and Africa adopted mom.

"You are weak because you are a woman." My house-boy and another student

"Africa will never have a female president, women are second class.." a student conversing with me

"Why do you shave your legs?" My fifteen year old neighbor who did tressed my hair

""We need rich countries like the United States to give money and medicine to help us.." senior class after I posed a question about how to better control AIDS.

Stating the obvious:

"Your French is bad..." (Houseboy because I talk French in a Spanish accent and I'm American...)

"You have a fat butt." (Family I eat dinner with.)

Things that changed me:

I yelled at my freshman class "You are acting like animals!" at their loud misbehavior. Later that day a student told me... " You insulted Africa saying we are animals,and I am not an animal... that is not teacher is appropiate" (He was just personally insulted..) But, Choose your words wiseley

You can share a genuwine laugh with people half way around the globe and there is language barriers. In my experiernce so far, many things are ubiquitous: arguing over religion, politics, the younger brother cries, students challenging authority...

I am utterly happy believe it or not. This challenge is making me stronger.

A kid in my eigth grade Spanish class asked me "Senora why did you arrive late?" He noticed my tardiness. I interpret that as his eagerness to learn.

I have no fear in front my classes... they respond to my emittance of mucha engeria. I'm slowly becoming a young adult.. I feel it... no more in that awkard-in-between stage.

I can kill coachroaches with a broom rapidly.

Hasta Luego,

Andrea

For some reason I always knew I would take a path different from others. Also, along that path Spanish has somehow followed me. Sophomore year of high school I feel in love with learning it and wanted to major in it. In college introduced to more music, literature, study abroad in Spain and helped at the local NGO in Worcester. After it followed me answering phones and translating at my crappy job after college and now here in Africa I'm teaching four different level classes to French speaking students... as my dad said "It's a blessing in disguise"... and evidently, inevitably unconventional.

Plus: The view of the clouds and sunsets in Belel are magnifcant and breathtaking. I will put pics of soon. Belel is about 3,000 km above sea level. There are two seasons: rainy and dry. During the rainy season, be prepared to have red soiled feet and mouton (goat) poop on your front porch in the morning! The other evening I was avoiding two cockroaches roaming in my salon (living room) I am blessed if I don't see them for a week.

A bientot!

Hi all!

There is so much to say, I don't know where to begin. I can start by talking about the francophone (there is anglophone and francophone in cameroon) education system and what I am teaching in Belel. I teach at the Lycee of Belel (High School) I teach Terminale, Premiere, Toisieme, Quatrieme, and Canquieme. Equivalent of seniors, juniors, freshmen, 8th and 7th graders. There are two cycles: the first cycle consists of seisieme through toisieme (6th through 9th grade) and after toisieme, the students take the BEPC. The Second cycle is segund through terminale (10th-12th) After junior year they take the Probatoire and after senior year they take the Bacc.

However, I am teaching Spanish to all the classes except one class where I teach English (and the Principal's daugther is in that class, go figure!). The teachers here in Cameroon do not get to pick where they go, rather, they are posted by the Ministry of Education. They are "affected" to different high schools throughout the country. The Spanish teacher in Belel was affected, partly, as rumor has it, the female students were not safe around him... Therefore, I told the Proviseur (Principal) I could help because I majored in Spanish. As you have it, I'm given 12 hours of teaching in Espanol and three hours of English.

It is difficult to teach Spanish to French speaking students. However, I am somehow managing. I just finished my 4th week teaching, and am getting the hang of it. Each class has its ups and downs. I do not have a favorite yet; however, the younger classes have more energy. Moreover, when I was in school, I hardly ever raised my hand to talk and give answers. When I am in front of the classroom, I am not at all afraid. I run my classroom and there are days where I ring in mucha energia, and others where I have no tolerance for deranging (disturbance).

There will always be things globally universal. You will have your students who understand immediately, enthusistaic to learn, others who are shy, disturb, and others in the middle. Even in my Cameroonian classroom it is the same dynamics as an American classroom. Importantly, in terms of eagerness to learn and so forth. The difference is the accesibility to textbooks, internet, electricity, visual aids. It is very limited. The system is basically the teacher writing on the chalk book and students copying. There is no constructive thinking. Cameroon is exam based. I try to introduce activities to make students engaged and think outside of the box, some fail and others are a success.

More importantly, not only am I inspired by teaching, but also, the students (at least some of them) seem to be inspired. There is this one in my quatrieme (beginner Spanish) who seems to be mesmerized. I was teaching my canquieme English class and he is there in the doorway as if he wanted something...Also, the Lycee of Belel consists of about seven buildings, to get a class you walk outside ( I will put up pics of what it looks like) The students stay in one class and the teachers change classes. So, I was teaching and there are students' heads popping through the "windows" to watch and derange of brick while my voice echos in the ears of the kids.

En fin, I hope things become smoother. I feel like I am putting too much effort into teaching. However, if I don't, then I will like a failure, not only to the kids, but to myself. You have to have a sense of humor as well. More rewarding, I'm proud I can teach another language to French students who's first language is their village dialect and I recently became comfortable speaking and understanding French in four months...It's a melting pot of language!!

I live without running water. Virtually I've had electricty twice since being at post. I am very much en brousse. However, I do not mind. I am not missing the American commodies just yet. I am learning Fulfulde. I have a tutor and his five year old daughter Nena is the most precious. "Sanou, jem na? Ah doh sa-tee-nah? translates: Hello, How are you? Are you in good health" Fulfulde is not a written language, everything I write is phonetic. However, with the advancement of language, they are borrowing words, for example "litre" (liter) because that word doesn't exist in Fulfulde. My house boys are awesome, except when they dont do my laundry for a week!! I walk everywhere. My post-mate and I cook dinner every so often. It is good to speak English and share American conversations. Mais, pour mentenent, c'est tout. Say-eso!

(But, for now, that's all (French), See you later (Fulfulde)

Andrea in a melting pot of four languages.

August 18th was my Swear-In date. All forty three of my stage mates and I raised our right hands as we took oath before coming a volunteer. After that, I treked up to the north with others. I had so much stuff: two big suit cases, walter filter, bike, metal trunk, and two big boxes of inconvenience that arrived just before the end. I arrived in Ngoundere and met my post-mate. We stayed for a few days and then took the bus to Belel on the route en terre. It was raining, and since Cameroon is a bit backwards, the bus was stuck in the red mud. We had to get out of the bus and wait under a tree and I went to pee in a bush. After 20 minutes, they finally got the bus out. We then continued our 6 hour long ride. It is funny because it is said Belel is only 120km from Negoundere (about an hour and half away). However, things here tend to take twice as long.

Arriving in Belel I had boys carry my excessie baggage in pousse-pousses. (Think of big wooden crates on wheels). We walked the 10 minutes to almost the top of the hill where my house is. I come to a pretty little house, with goat poop on the porch...

The best thing is, I inherited two house boys that did a lot of work for the previous volunteer. They helped me unpack my things and tidy the house. They eradicated mice and other crawling things such as cockroaches before I arrived. So much to do! I had some furniture made, and ate dinner with my post-mate.

Belel is a beautiful town. However my feet will be perpetually red from the soil. Actually, the colors of the Cameroonian flag bear some signifigance. The colors: yellow, red, and green signify: yellow= the savannah look during dry season, green= the green in the country, and finally, red for the red soil, and you have a lot of that in Belel!

I am forced to not only speak French, but also, eventually learn the local dialect Fulfilde. I think that will be a great learning experience and challenge in itself. I ran into a student at the lycee (high school) carry wood on his head and a machete in his hand while reading the bulletin board. He explained to me he had work in order to afford his school fees. He is in Terminale (equivalent of high school senior). The cost is 10,000 CFA (approx $20). I was shaken with reality I had not known before of Cameroon. I start teaching September 6th. I meet with the Principcal (Proviseur) this week to discuss teaching.

On a closing note: you know you are in Africa when you take a dump in your latrine ( a room with a poop hole) and there are two cockroaches running freely on the walls next to you.

Andrea

I like to have a sense of humor but I am not that great of a story teller. There are people in this world; who, when they tell stories, tell it so vividly you can imagine yourself there or just can picture like it is a movie screen in your head. I am trying to search for funny happenings here in Cameroon. I am starting to read more. I like comical stories. I just finished reading this book Whose Panties are These? There are pretty funny tales about women and their series of unfortunate events to wild encounters.

Some funny things to picture are on my first trip alone back from site visit to Belel, two chickens tied at the legs are thrown onto this bus and I jitter and look at the guy across from me in the same aisle of the bus, Why!? I ask and give him this look of culture shock, and he chuckles.

The same as when I accompanied my host sister to the market to buy a chicken, we got a white, plump chicken to kill for lunch…While I was waiting for her to buy a half a sack of rice, I looked in the big bag and saw the chicken there, alive, but dormant. Poor damn chicken, you’re going to feed bellies in about an hour. I came back from my meeting with the other stagiaire and had a camera fest of my host mother cutting away at the already dead chicken. I already posted a picture on this blog. As grotesque as it was, this chicken and rice meal was a hell of a lot healthier than boxed chicken and rice prepared meals. Except, for the over usage of palm oil in the tomato sauce. It was good!

RUN 4 FUN:

During model school each stagiagre had to administer a club: I administered a running club for students with two other wonderful stag mates. It reminded me of cross-country and track. I had great nostalgia. There were about 4 weeks to do clubs, so a couple weeks ago we had people from the stag volunteer to host a course. It went smoothly. Thanks to the hard work from Ryan and Karen, I shouldn’t take all the credit, they worked their butts off. There were about 50 runners in our first ever race. The race was approximately 2km (?). The first, second, and third prizes were pineapples of different sizes plus candies. The third place winner was this 10 year old. Amazed, I know that little kid will go far. While I was taking pictures of the runners, I noticed many Cameroonian boys took their shoes or sandals off and ran barefoot. No one would ever do that in the states! Here, they play football (soccer) with plastic sandals that cover their feet. Anyways, I bet their feet are used to pounding the paved roads, I know my poor feet would only like the touch of the soft football field doing pick-ups after track practice. For numbers we used brown paper and used my duck-tape to tape the numbers to the shirts of the kids. About 8 filters were donated to be used to give the participants water. As well, bananas and biscuits were purchased; those were gone instantaneously. Pretty innovative, what you have to be as a Peace Corp Volunteer.

My stage mate Ryan invited a number of people over to his host family’s house for a last day celebration. It was so much fun. The family went out of their way to serve drinks and food for the new bound volunteers. There was good music and a good atmosphere.  I hope to have more experiences like that during my volunteer service. The three year old sister could dance up a storm and the eight year old could do Michael Jackson moves. I was very impressed.

about 50 Cameroonian kids and PST competing in our PST organized Run 4 Fun!The 1st, 2nd and 3rd place winners, plus Proviseur of model school.Me, Karen, and Ryan (oranizers of race!)Cameroon students working hard on the signMy first class ever! Toisieme. (Equivalent to 9th graders)typical in CameroonHost sister with leg of chickenWhat is for dinner! Chicken!My best student English (Model School) et moi!

What Africa does to you! hot and sweaty!peace corps against cameroon during a basketball gameWhat a typical cameroonian school looks likeme and my host sister Germaine :-)

Me using a hoseMe and my host sister Germaine (9 years)Getting my hair done by Dominque and entertaining her son Freddie (host sister 18)Where I buy a lot of things (boutique)My host sister Dominque not wanting her pic taken

I have been in my training for about 6 weeks, there are only 4 weeks left to Swearing in. It has been a rollercoaster getting used to speaking French, forgetting my Spanish, adjusting to Cameroonian life, training, and teaching. At the end of the day, I realize that I am here to help in any way I can, inspire and be inspired by what is around me. As I reflect on the past weeks, a lot has happened in a short period of time.

I feel I have grown a lot since leaving the United States, more specifically, become more confident in myself and that it is OK to be me. It is easier to be yourself. Life is step by step. I feel this experience jumped a whole bunch of steps. I am completely out of my element. On a positive light, this is a perfect opportunity for me to grow. If it’s good, it’s memory, it it’s bad, it’s experience. I guess I live by clichés, as corny as that sounds, but in a way it is true…. For me at least.

Stress is another factor about living in a different country and culture. You just have to choose healthy ways of coping with it. In my training we have had sessions on stress, and resiliency. There is a popular phrase DWI (DEAL WITH IT). I am sure it will get its use pretty quickly and become old like the over-played songs on pop radio in the states. You just deal with it, change is constant. I have been running constantly and eating a lot of bread 8-0. Also, I am trying to put my focus in my lesson plans for teaching and integrating into the community.

Teaching in the model school is actually going well. I am teaching English to the equivalent of freshmen in high school and moving around other classes. It is rewarding to know you can do something you didn’t think you could. I manage the discipline of the classroom with an iron fist. Well, I am not that strict; however, it is necessary to be stern in order to earn the respect of the students.

I went on site visit to my small village of Bélél in the Adamawa region of Cameroon. It was so breathtaking. It was completely green, hilly and also relatively cool compared to Bafia where our training is taking place. My community host is the Principal (Proviseur) of my high school (Lycée). There are about 700 students in the school and there is another English teacher. There are only going to be three female teachers in the school… Gender differences do exist in Cameroon. I can go into more depth about that later. There is one paved road, and the rest are route en terre. Therefore, there is a lot of mud, especially during raining season! Get ready to be dirty Andrea!!

I played football (Every other county in the world uses football) with the local boys of Bélél. They lead me through this path which opened up to a field which was breathtaking. Everything felt perfect.

I do not think I will have running water, but I am going to get the local neighbors to get it for me form the florage on a pousse-pousse. Also, I will probably have intermittent electricity, and a latrine for a bathroom. I will have a post mate as well. I am pretty excited for what lies ahead. Let’s do this…!

Until another time.  Andrea =)

It has been almost a week since I have been in Africa. There is no internet in my homes-stay in Bafia in Cameroon. It is hot all the time and I feel like I am perpetually working out. My stomach and body is still adjusting. I am fatigued and overwhelmed with African life. Training starting this week and I am expected to master (almost) the French language within in a few months! Oh my God!

I have had some culture shocks. The children do the work for example cook the food and wash the floors while the parents just sit and relax. What value does that stem from? The pineapple is sweet here, delicious! Other dishes such as fish and chicken are good. However, tonight I ate couscous (Bafian) with my hands and used the bucket of water to wash my hands. Secondly, there are always people in and out of the house: friends and family.

Also whites are known here in Cameroon as Le Blanche. My host family’s neighbor was asking me if I was married (marie) or if I had children. I said no and the girl (avoisoner sp?) told me her uncle would marry me. Moreover, in the bakery (boulangerie) with a fellow Peace Corps Trainee, the bakery guy said I was his wife and that he loved me from the bottom of his heart (fon de cuer). It is crazy being the minority in this setting.

It is difficult adjusting yes, but I hope in the end this entire experience will be worth it. I am definitely out of my element: for the first time in my life.

Africa- Food preparation, doing laundry, bucket baths, walking and getting stared out by everyone but if you wave at the little kids they will smile and wave bag. They love the “High Five/Too Slow” game I play with them.

A lot has happened in the past week and half. For the first few days I stayed at a hotel in Yaoundé, the capital city of Cameroon. It was an overwhelming experience; shots, the food, being advised to not wander the city without anyone, and the “intensity” of orientation training.

The magic began in a medium size town, about 75,000 inhabitants of Bafia, about 2 hours north of Yaoundé. After a hot bumpy ride on the highway, two lanes in width. People here in Cameroon don’t respect the speed limit. They also pass you if you drive to slow, hence the many causes of vehicle accidents and a huge concern for Peace Corps Volunteers. A lot of people drive motos (downgraded versions of motorcycles).

My first bucket bath! A blue bucket held my water from the fountain. I had a smaller bucket and pour the cold water over my head a million times to get adequately wet. These are not at all bad: considering the perpetual heat here in Africa. I sweat all day.

The food! Cameroon has very delicious dishes! They eat a lot of rice, meat, fish, chicken, beans, bananas, and my favorite fruit now is pineapple. Bafia is proud of its sweet pineapple (la anana). They have powered milk and instant coffee which isn’t too bad. Moreover, I love the pain du chocolat (chocolate filled bread). The children do the cooking. Talk about reversal roles. My nine hear old host sister uses a knife better than I do! They do everything freshly, without preservatives and processed food. They eat everything; I got to actually touch a fresh fish (dead of course). My host sisters gutted the fish with their hands… it was a definite culture experience for me. Some Americans don’t really like the food, I love it. I have yet to gain weight.

Everywhere I go the local kids look and stare. I then wave at them and yell Bon jour, or Bon Soir and they smile and wave back. They are curious because I am a different color. A lot of older people ask me to be their tutor; they want to improve their English. I try to politely decline… and the bakery guy said he is my husband and loved me from the bottom of his heart… Here we go!

My French is steadily improving. I’m learning phrases every minute. I’ve even managed to start saluting in the local Bafian language: Ribkwa (sp?); Wayembei (Good Morning) and Seseeachenku (Good Evening). I say it to my host mom’s relatives that walk in they are greatly surprised this white girl knows their greetings.

I start teaching in a couple weeks at the model school. That is going to be another story. Until then… A bientôt!

Tomorrow I officially leave for Peace Corps! I go to Philly for a night for pre-staging. Thursday the group I am leaving with treks to JFK to embark on a 15hr-ish trip to Yaounde with a stop in Brussels, Belgium. I don't know how much more ready I could be... I have all my paperwork, two over-packed checked bags, a LL Bean backpack and a huge purple tote-bag to carry my lap-top and other essentials.

Tonight I am going to bed earlier... like 9ish maybe. I don't think I will be able to sleep. It will probably hit me in the morning that I am actually leaving the States for Africa. Here starts a new adventure, experience, challenge, and step in my life's journey. I feel like "wow" it's finally all unfolding. Now to focus the next two years on my experience living and working in Africa. Adapting to different cultures, lifestyles and other perspectives is going to be interesting. I get a lot of peope excited and for me, inspired, and nay-sayers who don't wish me well. However, at the end of the day, it's my decision, and my life path! I don't regret the decision I made in joining so far. I know there are going to be lessons learned and challenges I have to face. The bottom keep on letting Andrea shine...

No looking back... foward. Here we go!

Andrea

I offically ended my last day of work yesteray!! They gave me cake and Ice Cream and one of the artistic girls, Bri, made me an awesome card! :-). Now, I finished cleaning, organizing my room! Ahora mismo, it's time to start packing and getting ready for Cameroon! I am doing a jump, a hop, and a skip! However, I have to keep in mind everything is not going to be hunky-dory (sp?). I've gotten my luggage, now time to get other things and start sorting through what I NEED and DO NOT need. I can always have my mom send me things. Which, more than likely, she will knowing her. She bought me this emergency food for Homeland Security... what the hell!? Oh well, that's mothers for you!! Anyhow, I am going to indulge in Italian food, of which I won't get in Cameroon. The Adventure is commmingggggg!

I have about one week left at my regular job!! It finally hit me, that as time is going faster towards the depart date, my Peace Corps adventure is becoming a reality!!! It feels surreall that I am leaving so soon...

I'm going to start packing very soon and finish the necessary. Tonight is a lazy night for me, just browsing the internet. I still feel I am missing something important to do... It'll come to me...

Dear Prospective Readers-

In about five weeks I am going to embark on a new adventure for two years! It has been an emotional ride since I accepted the invitation. At the end of the day, I am excited for this opportunity. Even though I could encounter illness, risks, bugs, or what have you, the challenge and room for growth would be most rewarding to me. I am researching extensively of what to bring with me. They say to pack light, and someone from the Peace Corps office told me about 90% of what you take, you are going to leave behind. Having that in mind, I have been re-thinking what to pack. I am stressing over nothing... I should do more research before making my own personalized list!

I have about two more weeks left of my regular job. It just hit me recently that I am actually leaving a cubicle job for an "out of my element" job or the "hardest job you'll ever love". Time is flying quickly. Everyday I am doing more to prepare myself, settling financial stuff, packing, visting friends :-), etc, etc.

A major concern is RUNNING. Will I be able to run like I do here? I know women in Cameroon cannot exercise the freedoms that Ameicans have. Maybe I can get convince someone to be my Cameroon running partner?? Only time will tell.

I am also learning French. Oy! I am going to mix my Spanish toungue with French! Well, better to know two languages ;-). Opens more doors.

Anyhow... Until next time.

Andrea