World AIDS Day December 1, 2011

For World AIDS Day this year, the students of the Health Club at the high school and members of our village Red Cross Club organized a day of events to educate people about HIV/AIDS. Here was the itinerary for the day:

10am-Noon Teaching at the High School run by the Health Club students

Noon-2pm Parade from high school to the Chief's house and teaching to people of the village led by Health Club students and Red Cross club members

3:30pm-5:00pm Soccer game at elementary school between Health club members and other students

In reality, the itinerary was not exactly that because some things started late, but all in all the day was a success. The weekend before World AIDS Day, the two doctors from the health center and I led a formation of peer-educators. This means that we taught Health Club and Red Cross members about HIV/AIDS, and then when World AIDS Day arrived, they taught their peer fellows and people of the village.

Below is my speech I gave at both the high school and in front of the Chief's house:

Bonjour chers professeurs chers élevés du Lycée de Gangassaou. C'est avec un réel plaisir que j'annonce la journée mondiale du VIH/SIDA à Gangassaou. D'Amérique au Cameroun et de la chine au brésil, le VIH/SIDA est une maladie internationale. Les enfants, les vieux, les femmes enceintes et les élevés comme vous ne sont épargnes, le VIH/SIDA est une épidémie qui touche et affecte tout le monde. A cause de cette maladie, chaque premier décembre, nous parlons et enseignons sur le VIH/SIDA en espérant qu'un jour, il sera vaincu.

Cette année, le premier décembre 2011, nous avons un grand programme réalise par les nouveaux pair-éducateurs des IST/VIH de Gangassaou. Le programme de la journée est comme suit:

10H-12H Enseignement par les pairs-éducateurs au Lycée

12H-14H Défilent dans le village et enseignement a la chefferie

15H30-17H Match a l'école primaire entre le club sante et le croix rouge contre les vétérans

Aussi, la semaine prochaine (du 5 au 9 décembre) tout le monde est invite au CSI pour le dépistage du VIH/SIDA. Les cent premières personnes vont recevoir le pré et post conseil et un dépistage gratuit.

Aujourd'hui est une grande journée ou nous apprenons sur le VIH/SIDA et devons respecter les personnes atteintes ou mortes de cette maladie. Dans le futur, j'espère que nous pouvons penser et parler du VIH/SIDA chaque jour de l'année. Une journée par année ne suffit pas pour améliorer le problème mondial du VIH/SIDA. N’hésitez pas de chercher vos pair-éducateurs pour en savoir davantage sur les IST et VIH/SIDA. Avant que les activités ne commencent, j'aimerai dire merci a certaines personnes qui ont rendu possible cette journée. Premièrement, merci aux personnels enseignants et administratifs du Lycée pour leur compréhension et l'espace qui nous ont été accorde. Deuxièmement, merci aux personnels de sante du centre de sante intègre de Gangassaou qui ont aide a la formation des pairs-éducateurs, qui vont faire les prés et post conseils et dépistages la semaine prochaine et qui nous ont donne les préservatifs. Merci a l'ONG SAJER pour leur formation sur les IST et VIH/SIDA et leur don de préservatifs féminins. Merci au ministère de  la sante publique pour le don de cent dépistages du VIH/SIDA. Enfin, merci a la croix rouge de Gangassaou, au club sante du Lycée de Gangassaou et a tous les élevés qui ont contribue a l'organisation de cette journée. Merci beaucoup d'avance pour votre présence et de votre respect a l'égard des pairs-éducateurs. Passez une bonne journée et rappelez-vous toujours que "la fin du VIH/SIDA commence avec vous". Je vous remercie.

Good luck translating it everyone! You can look for pictures from the day's events in my facebook album:

Facebook photos November and December 2011

Article for Health Newsletter

Below is the article I submitted to the PC Cameroon health newsletter. Enjoy!

I'm a strong believer in the expression "old habits die hard". If volunteers before Peace Corps (B.P.C. if you will) were social butterflies and preferred crowds to calm, then those personality characteristics  carry over into service. If volunteers B.P.C. were workaholics and would stay up until 3am in the library memorizing the
Krebs cycle (yours truly) then those attributes are again seen during two years here in Africa. I find work here in Cameroon becoming the biggest part of my day-to-day activities (well not so much the Krebs
cycle part). Within a given minute these are the work thoughts jumping around in my head:
vastfundingdeadlinesformationat1pmhealthclubactionplanwhatarethedateofmidservice... and the thoughts continue.

During one uneventful evening this past October after a much-eventful and activity-packed day, I took a breather to reflect on my service thus far. In such a calm and non-stressful village in the heart of the
Adamawa, why are these workaholic characteristics of my personality still showing themselves? I found myself asking: what happened to goals 2 and 3? And why am I letting goal 1 take over my existence
here?

When I applied to Peace Corps in the spring of 2010, I do not recall imagining development projects. I recall wanting to explore a new culture and live in harmony with people different than me. I wanted life to slow down for these brief two years, to be purely happy and to do some soul-searching along the way; as cliche as that sounds. However, here in PC Cameroon, I feel pressure and stress to do work and project after project related to health education. Are these workaholic characteristics within me just having a hard time dying off, or is there an outside pressure to do all of this goal 1 work? On the VRF that we all know and love, there are 31 questions to be answered for EACH activity done related to goal 1. On the other hand,
there are 3 questions related to goals two and three COMBINED. Note: yes that's right, I counted all the questions. How is it that goals 2 and 3, or 2/3 of our work, are minimized into just three questions? Does this not strike anyone as bizarre that 1/3 of our work (goal 1) is taking 91+% of the credit?

When I realized all of this last month, it worried me...and I decided to do something about it. I compiled a slideshow of photos on my computer from my home in good ol' Vermont and other states in the red-white-and-blue. I started showing people in village, and they love them. I am amazed by how many questions people have, ranging from how the healthcare system works to whether we grow corn too; things I
never would have thought of to explain. I also spoke with a French teacher from my old high school in Vermont and set up a penpal program between her students and my 4e English students here. On this end, we have sent out our first batch of letters and the my students keep asking when they'll receive theirs. I am also revamping how I interact with my WWS elementary school to help students in the US better
understand what life is like here in Cameroon. I am brainstorming other goals 2 and 3 projects to launch in village, and would love to hear what other health PCVs are doing to promote America abroad and
Cameroon in the US of A.

I hope that, at this near mid-point in service for my stage, other health volunteers in my shoes can reflect back as well on what brought them here to Cameroon. Focusing solely on goal 1 is leading me away from the things I wanted to achieve here. In my eyes, goals 2 and 3 are overlooked, but are currently where I find the most joy in my service.

School system in Cameroon

Elementary school grades: SIL, CP, CE1, CE2, CM1, CM2 (6 in total)

Kiddos reading/looking at picutres in Nat Geo at my house

High school grades:

6eme/ sixieme. Classes: english, french, history, geography, civil education (education about cameroon and politics and government), mathematics, science

5eme/cinquieme. Same classes as for 6eme

4eme/quatrieme. Same as for 5eme plus physics and chemistry and student's choice of German or Spanish

This year's 4eme students

3eme/troisieme. Same classes as for 4eme

*After a year of classes in 3eme, students take the country-wide exam called the BPC in June/July. If they pass the BPC and had passing grades in all their classes for the year of 3eme, they move on to 2nd. If they don't pass the BPC, they can still move on to 2nd, but have to pass the BPC after a year of classes in 2nd. Passing the BPC is a big deal because if it is not passed after 2nd, a student cannot continue and has to take the year of 2nd all over again.

2nd/second. This is where courses get interesting. At this point in a student's high school career, they choose if they want to focus more on the math and sciences or on languages. A student's choice puts him or her in one of the following two classes/groups:

2nd A: Strong focus on languages; German, Spanish and Arabic. Math and science classes still present but very few.

2nd C: Strong focus on mathematics and science, little or no language classes.

*After 2nd, students take another country-wide examen called the Probatoire. Just like the BPC, if students don't pass the first time around they can try again after 1ere. After 1ere, though, if they still don't pass, they can't move onto Terminale. They have to take the year of 1ere all over again and try in June/July of the following year.

Last year's 2nd students

1ere/premier. This grade is split up into three classes or groups again based on a student's choice of study. These groups are:

1ere A: Language focus of French, English, and choice of Spanish or German

1ere C: MATH focus with few language or science classes

1ere D: SCIENCE focus with few language or math classes

Tle/Terminale. This final grade is split up just like 1ere, with the focus on language, math or science.

*After Terminale, the third and final country-wide exam is called the BAC. Again, this is take in June/July after the school year is done. If the BAC is not passed, students take the whole year of Terminale again before giving their shot at the test a second time.

Note: As far as I know, a student can retake classes as many times as needed and take the three tests as many times as desired until the score are passable. The majority of students, though, get fed up with the system of only having one shot to move ahead per year in June/July when they take the test. At our high school here, the numbers of students per class start ridiculously high in 6eme (80+ students) but as the grades increase and more tests have to be passed, the numbers dwindle down. In Terminale this year at the high school, there are just under 20 students. And these 20 Terminale students are ALL male.

So, in total they are 13 grades or years (assuming they are all passed along with the three tests) from elementary school to high school. The majority of students start SIL in elementary school AROUND the age of 5, but for most it is more. There is not a set rule that once a child is 5, he or she goes to school. It is up to the parents when they are ready to send their child and when they think their child's french is well-enough to get by in school. How many grades/years do we have? 12 right? It just appears so different here because, for example, it is not uncommon to find a 1ere or Terminale student who is 23 or 24. If the student started late in elementary school, and had to repeat a few years due to grades in class or test scores, I guess it makes sense
that graduating from high school happens in early to mid-twenties. And after high school....higher education is a whole other story.



YOUR comments welcome...

November 16, 2011

I need to get better at blog-writing. Sometimes when I describe things or events that are happening, they make perfect sense to me because, well, I'm living them. But what about you, my audience? What am I not explaining about life here in the Adamawa region of Cameroon, Africa? What do you all want to know about? Any topic ideas? I have discussed food A LOT (but don't mind discussing it further if anyone has questions about it), my work at the hospital and high school, and bits and pieces of the culture here. What am I not including in these blog posts that would give you all a bettter idea about Peace Corps here in my village in C-roon? Please let me know in your comments below....and again thanks for following my bloggy blog.

Baby alice, Salomon and Alison (I'm her godmother)

Just some other random topics I don't think I've mentioned:

Most common illnesses volunteers get sick from here (me personally and the tales I have been told): stomachhhhh stuff giardiabacteriaamebas in any and all forms, malaria, weird skin problems like skin falling off due to heat/malnutrition absesses or bacteria in skin, worms in feet etc, dental problems where volunteers get sent to south africa to get cavities filled

Ethnic groups that I see on a daily basis:

Dii the largest ethnic group in my village, their language is called Dii-roo. Most recently, they are descended from a city north of us called Mbe. Before that, I don't actually know where they came from. They are primarily farmers, harvesting everything from yams in Mbe to beans and sugar cane here. The Dii are hard-working but, in my opinion, a bit stubborn

Fulbe, their language is Fulfulde, they are known to be nomads and at one point travelled all the way from Senegal and took over the three northern regions of Cameroon, they are herders (which means they always sell milk) and are very nice. Some small villages around mine are Fulbe where people have settled to stay. Ethnic groups other than them always joke that the Fulbe are thieves; because they always travel from place to place, it's said that they just take things as they go along

Mbororo, smallest ethnic group around here, their language is Yako (but I've never actually heard this spoken I dont think), they are primarily nomads and herders like the Fulbe, I can tell them apart from the others by the blue scars on their faces, a ritual called, appropiately, scarification. They also sell lots of milk in village :)

In the next town over, there is a large population of an ethnic group called Mboom. I'm not quite sure what makes the Mboom different from the Dii other than their languages, but I'm sure there are lots of differences.

Traditional wedding in the streets of Ngaoundere

Random Rituals:

-When the chief has something important to tell everyone in the village or news to spread, he sends the town "crier". The other night when Nini and I walked to the store to get a mambo chocolate bar (my guilty pleasure of 100 FCFA, approximately 20 cents), we passed the crier out yelling on the dirt pathways between people's homes. At first I thought it was the town fool, but Nini told me that the chief sent him. Apparently, he was telling all the families that once they sell their beans, they need to go immediately to the schools and pay the fees for their children. I'm impressed; go chief!

-Prayer times for Muslims in town: 5 am, 1:30 pm, 3:30 pm, 6:30 pm, 7:30 pm. If meetings are held in town, it is always in the afternoon interspersed with the prayer times. On Fridays, there is a longer prayer for the first afternoon one that begins at 12:30 pm. I do not see women going to pray at the mosque in town like I do for the men. During Fasting, I would see women going to prayer at night, but was told they bring they mats and pray outside the building while the men all participate inside.

The Fools

We have two "foos"or fools in our village. These are people who, if we were in the red-white-and-blue, their families would most likely pay for them to be in a special home. But here, special homes don't exist, and they are harmless, so we just accept the fools and they are parts of the village like anyone else.
Fool number 1 lives one dirt road over from me. He has been wearing the same outfit since I first arrived in February; a torn up leather coat and shorts. He doesn't wear shoes and just walks around our neighborhood. Sometimes he picks up trash and puts it in his pockets. Sometimes he pushes dirt from one side of the street to the other. He mumbles to himself, but doesn't bother anyone. He has a family that feeds him every day and he just sleeps outside their house. I asked someone once why his family doesn't bath him or buy him shoes. The response I got was he doesn't want to. I've been told he wasn't always like this, but didn't feel like pushing details as to how he got this way.

Fool number 2 is more interesting. According to town gossip, he used to be a big man in village and worked in many cities around Cameroon. But he got greedy, and took some sort of potion/medicine, and then became a fool. He still has his same family and children from when he was a fool and still plants corn and everything...but he's just a bit different. He sports pants, flipflops, a nylon running jacket and a train conductor hat. He is always holding a clipboard and writing scribbles on pieces of paper that he finds. On his clipboard/pallette, I have seen anything from a feather to an old piece of metal to a cookie wrapper. When I pass him he always says "Bonjour Hadidja, ca va?" and starts talking French normally...and then slips into some sort of rambling/local language/jibberish that I or no one understands. He visits the hospital, hobbling along because his ankles are tied closely together with string. I'm pretty sure he ties his own ankles together...not sure why, haven't figured that one out. He sings; the kids knows all his songs and sing with him (hamo lamo kiimoo mi hamo lamo kii, not sure what it means but that's verse 1). During market days, he yells at dogs passing by and invisible people on the street. He visits the hospital to see his friends that are sick or to scribble jibberish on his clipboard. He is completely harmless and everyone is entertained by him...except for when he starts yelling at the clouds in front of the hospital. Then the supervisor tells him to go back to his field.

Teaching

Novembre 2011

There are wonderful things about teaching. And there are not-so-wonderful things about teaching. But let's start with the positive first. The other day in my 5eme class of 50-ish students, we had some free time after going over the recent tests they had taken. For the most part, the tests had been "passable". I hadn't put anything too difficult on the test; it was all content we had gone over in class or they had done on the homework (if, in fact, they had done the homework). So, for the free time, I requested that they just ask me words they want to know in English or maybe songs they had heard from nigerian-pidgin-english and didn't understand. They love this asking-what-things-are-in-english game, by the way. I try to keep a straight face during the game, because, as my gal pal who teaches elementary school always tells me, if you laugh in class students won't take you seriously. After a couple of random words and lines from a poem they were taught but never knew the meaning, one of my favorite students stood up. Everyone became very silent (for like the first time ever) and he, very officially, shouted out,

"EEF YOU LOOK AT ME, I WEELL DANCE LIKE A CHA-CHA GIRL"

I lost it. Legit. Knee-slapping rip-roaring laughter. I could not contain myself. No one else in the classroom knew the meaning of what he just said, but they all started laughing too cause they wanted to get in on the good time. When I finally wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes and composed myself, I wrote the sentence on the board and we translated it together:

SI TU ME REGARDE, JE DANCERAI COMME UNE FILLE CHA-CHA

Then they all started laughing too, now that they understood the meaning.

And onto not-so-wonderful things about teaching. There is an expression I have been taught countless times in chemistry classes through the years. The expression is about reactions and goes something like: a reaction can only move as quickly as its' slowest reagant. Meaning that something can only go forward at the rate of its' slowest part. I have developed a similar expression about the students taking tests in both my classes of 5eme and 4eme. My expression is:

You are only as smart as...the person sitting next to you

Meaning that cheating is the  norm. I don't know how to win with these kids. This second test around, I tried splitting up my classes so that there would be only one student per bench, thus no wandering eyes like during the first test. However, one of the students in the first group wrote down test questions and handed it outside to his fellow classmates...and I caught him. Both he and the two boys he gave the paper to received 0. And I blamed myself at first because I should have just kept the classes together (even though there would be wandering eyes), or made different tests for the two groups. I cannot win either way. And then I stopped blaming myself, because the truth is, it is the students who will lose in this situation and not me. I gave out six 0s for cheating this time around. Also, if and when these students travel to anglophone (English speaking) regions of Cameroon, it is them who won't be able to get by because they did not study English.

Students of the class of 4eme

4eme students sitting at their desks

15 novembre 2011

only in my life right here right now will the following things happen:

-I was "cadeau"-ed some little plastic plates from a volunteer friend who is shortly leaving after her two years on service. The plates were on a side table next to the entrance of my house. Little Nini spotted the plates and asked for one. I told her I would trade it for something; ten oranges. She went off running with her friend, Oumoul, and brought back ten ripe oranges from a tree next to her house. I gave her the plate.

Nini

-Cell phone service is sketchy or nonexistent here. My cellphone is sketchy or not working. My SIM card is disfunctional. I needed to make an important phone call to one of my bosses to discuss an upcoming project, so I went to the local little store where I usually get credit transferred onto my phone. I beeped (cell phone lingo for when someone doesn't have much credit on their phone, you "beep" someone and they see you're calling but don't have a lot of credit so they call you back) my boss and she called me back. Of course this little shop (where this is random sketchy service outside behind the door) is right on the main road. As I am on the phone having this important call about my funding proposal and project, a huge tractor-trailer truck squeaks to a stop right in front of the store and the people start fixing the brakes/axels/god-knows-what. As all the racket and rumble are continuing in front of me, my boss is continuning to talk. Finally the truck leaves and I just politely ask her to send all the info to me in an email "so I won't forget"....slash so I can hear it for the first time.

-giardia. again. Don't get me wrong, I have been very fortunate health-wise here. I haven't gotten really sick and 95% of the time I feel great. But that other 5% of the time....ya, I need to be more careful about what street food I eat. Does giardia live in bush milk aka unpasteurized yummy yogurt that I've been consuming lately? I've been here for ten months now, and as time goes on, my strictness on what I consume and when I consume (as in medium rare or well-done) has definetly lessened. Maybe I should start my strict diet over again....but the bush milk is soooo good.

A peaceful election

On October 9th, 2011, Cameroon held a presidential election. On the
evening of October 21st, the results were announced. The announcing of
results began at 11 in the morn and finished at 8 pm at night.
Everyone was listening to the radio for the results. The incumbent,
Paul Biya, won with a landslide majority of 77%. The second place
candidate, Furundi, held 10% of the votes. Next year, 2012, will be
Biya's 30th anniversary as president of Cameroon. My small village of
close to 2,000 voting-citizens voted 100% Biya, I was told by someone
who helped out with the election.

Note: these are the facts of the election that recently passed in
Cameroon. I do not feel it is appropiate for me to share my opinion
about how the election was held or the result.

Other news from the village
-Harvest time. Daily, corn and beans by the sack-full are being hauled
in from the fields. Huge trucks passing on the road are filled to the
brim with sacks of beans to sell in the city. Many harvesters are
buying new motorcycles or Tvs with their hard-earned cash.
-Health Club is up and running at the high school. Yours truly is the
proud "coordonatrice".
-It is still raining. August and September, which are supposed to be
the rainiest months of the year, have come and gone...and yet the rain
is still here.
-Is it fall already?

When the world gives you sour milk....

....you make cheese? So, I was at the hospital the other day and a Fulbe woman selling milk arrived. I bought a liter of fresh milk for 250 FCFA (approximately 50 cents). I asked my supervisor's family during lunch how to store the milk so it won't go bad. My supervisor said boil it all tonight and then bring it to a boil again tomorrow morning before I want to drink it. My supervisor's son, on the other hand, said to just leave it out tonight and bring it all to a boil tomorrow. Now I was in a dilemma. To boil or not to boil the milk during the evening. I decided to conduct an experiment; I boiled half at night and kept the other half in a separate container not boiled. When I woke up in the morning, I boiled again the pre-boiled milk. It tasted normal, just like the day before, and I used it in cereal. I picked up the lid to the non-boiled milk, and immediately an awful smell filled the room. It had gone bad overnight...or so I thought. I figured I could give it to the dog anyway, so I started heating it...and soon noticed a change happening to the bad-smelling milk. It was starting to form chunks and I began stirring the liquid with a spoon. When I lifted the spoon, something stuck onto it; CHEESE. It wasn't very much cheese, but I extracted as much as I could. I thought to myself "if I get sick tomorrow, atleast I know why". It tasted so good! Straight up mozzerella! But, after the liquid continued to heat up and boil, the cheese chunks soon melted and were no more. I gave the warm milk to the dog and went about my day happy as ever that my experiments were successful.

27 septembre 2011

My current life schedule:

Monday: go to hospital, do prenatal consultations if female nurse is not there, or help my supervisor with paperwork to send to the health department

Tuesday: go to hospital, vaccination and baby-weighing day, weigh babies and help with vaccination cards and paperwork

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday: teach english at the high school in 4e and 5e classes

Saturday: go out to the fields with some friends or hang out and the house and clean and do laundry

Sunday: go to church at my supervisor's house next to the hospital, come back in the afternoon and put together lessons for class, think about life

September 29, 2011

Mark this date ladies and gents, I have officially turned cous-cous. Yes, since arriving, I have watched women turn cous-cous countless times, and I have often started the turning but never finished, or took turns with little Nini and then Fadi took over to finish the turning process...but tonight, from beginning to end, I turned cous-cous. And it wasn't half-bad either. When turning cous-cous, if the corn flour is not evenly cooked and stirred/turned, then chunks of the powder will remain. My cous-cous, however, was chunkless. It was smooth and yummy and Fadi and I ate it up with some sauce that Nini had prepared earlier. I hadn't tried to turn in a couple of months since a failed attempt with Nini where Fadi had to take over and finish. Have I become stronger, is that why I was able to prepare din for the whole fam tonight? Or has my technique just become better? I have a theory about which muscles in the back are most used here during farming/household chores/cous-cous preparation. Here's the theory: the back muscles worked out here in Cameroon are not the same back muscles that get exercise in the US of A. Maybe the makers of the Nautilus machines at the gym haven't yet designed equipment that can trigger all back muscles. I'm pretty sure the emphasis when farming and turning cous-cous is the upper back muscles. There must be a workout machine for that though. Or maybe working out in a gym just can't come close to good ol' outdoor physical labor. Anywho, yes, cous-cous has been turned, mark this date down in the calendars :). Next, says Fadi, she will write down the date when I cannot only turn cous-cous, but make the sauce along with it and bring it to the house.

Let us remember the eleventh september

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I woke up in a good mood. I had recently purchased a rainbow turtleneck sweater and jean skirt with pink heart decals from Old Navy. The evening before, I had decided to sport the new outfit to school the following day. The morning in middle school started off normal; TA groups followed by social studies. Mid-way through social studies, the principal came on the overhead and asked everyone to please return to their TA groups. No one knew what was going on. A surprise fire drill? Once in our TA groups, we were told the news about the World Trade Center attack. It is hard for me to piece together exactly what I felt. Was I in shock? Too young to understand the significance of the attack or what it meant for the future of our country? I do not recall crying, although I can remember that others did. I remember calling my mother from the TA room and asking if she was alright.

Flashforward to September 11, 2010; last year. I had just printed off the recommended-supply-list for Peace Corps Volunteers going to Niger and was considering what things I still needed to buy. I turned on the television to CNN to watch the ceremony from the World Trade Center. I do not remember the ceremony though. What I remember were people fighting; one group who wanted to build a mosque several blocks down from where the Twin Towers stood, the other group who did not want the mosque built. I kept thinking, isn't this what they wanted? Doesn't Al Quaeda want to break our nation apart like this? I started to cry, and then shut off CNN before heading to work in the afternoon.

Today was the tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001. It was raining when I woke up this morning. It was raining all day and so I stayed in my house. I made myself oatmeal for breakfast and gave some to my dog. I read a little bit, and when the rain turned to a drizzle, I walked to the hospital in the early afternoon to say hello to my supervisor and his family. Even if I tried, I could not be more-removed from the ceremonies and rememberings and words about 9/11. And here I am still thinking about it. I find myself thinking about Al Quaeda and what they are doing in this world. What they did ten years ago today, and more recently, what they did this past January when I was in Niger. It is because of them that I am here in Cameroon and not there. It is because of them that our nation's history has forever been changed. My supervisor didn't understand when I tried to explain to him what a "flashbulb memory" is; one that sticks with you forever, rainbow turleneck, jean skirt, and all.

Out in the fields

September 4, 2011

So the family who lives right next to me that I spend time with every day has been inviting me out to see their fields since the summer began...and the day finally came for the trip yesterday. The youngest daughter, Nini, came to get me around nine in the morning. I had my mini backpack all ready- swiss army knife, neosporin and bandaids, full water bottle, baseball cap; you can just never be too prepared, ya know? Babba (father of the fam) had already headed out to the field, so Nini, Dadda (mama Fadi), Saddam (the only boy of the kids, second youngest to Nini), my new puppy Mila and I headed out. We passed field after field of other's crops. Lots of corn and lots of beans with other veggies mixed in. Along the way, we found a friend of Saddams' plus his puppy playing in a cornfield and they decided to join us. Mila was in heaven...as was I walking along these beautiful fields and into the bush behind our village.

Introducing... Mila...she says woof

Whenever the fam has talked about their "champs" or field, they describe it as being not-too-far. Let me tell you though....it was a trek. But, as my sister always says, it's all about the journey not the destination. We transversed two streams, went up and down two huge hills and passed countless other bean fields before finally reaching their field. The voyage took about an hour. After their field, there is nothing but bush. Yes, their field is the last one. When I turned around, I could no longer make out our village, just specks of tin roofs and pavement where the road continues after our town. We sat down for a few minutes and had a biscuit snack that Fadi brought. She was fasting for the day (even after Ramadan, some people are still into it and go for an extra week....um ya'll are crazy) but the rest of us ate up the biscuits and drank down my entire water bottle. Then we walked down the rivine to their field. I asked Babba why their field is so far out from the others, and he said they didn't want just any field and that this is the best one even if it takes longer to arrive there.

In the fields

In their field, they have already planted corn, sugar cane and peanuts. At the top of the rivine, they planted two fields of beans. They hired a cow team a couple weeks back to help turn the land for the beans, but for the rest of the crops down the hill, the land was all worked by hand. There is a stream that runs through they field, or it's better to say that their field has been strategically placed so that a stream brings water at all times. The first thing they did is set up corn to dry. Fadi had apparently already done this yesterday, but the wind in the night caused it to fall down. The corn has already been cut from the ground, but they arranged it in a huge column around one central still-in-ground stalk. I watched most of this process because I had no idea what was going on and I'm ridiculously weak compared to these jacked Cameroonians. They tied to stalks with a rope and will leave it like that for a week to dry.

Babba and corn column

Babba with sugar cane

Then the real work began. Fadi brought peanuts to plant. Saddam plus his friend dug holes, Fadi placed peanuts, and Nini and I went behind Fadi covering all the holes. We planted one field full and by the time it was done, I was pretty spent. Just by covering the holes. Fadi was still rearing-to-go after she helped make the corn column and place peanuts...and she was fasting...man these peeps are strong. Anywho, so we headed back up the rivine. It was just about noon at this point. The fam has a straw hut by the bean fields for shelter when it rains and we hung out by that. Saddam started up a fire and roasted us all fresh corn. Mila and I chowed down on fresh corn; I was surprised she likes it.

Then we collected our things and each grabbed some wood that was collected and headed back. But we only made it halfway back before the rain started. So we ducked in another person's straw hut and hung out there for about an hour. We arrived back in the village around three in the afternoon. I went back to the house to wash up and then arrived at the fam's house for din. In the time that I was at my house, Fadi had made the sauce and cous-cous and bru-ee. And then broke her fast at 6:30 pm. I honestly don't know how she does it.

Saddam, Nini and Sakina

All in all, a great day out in the field. Beautiful walk, great scenery and it felt good to do some physical labor. I will be going out again before the season is over.

Ramadan

1 septembre 2011

Ramadan....was sadly uneventful. I fasted for a total of 6 days, which isn't much compared to the feats of other people in the village, but I was proud that I attempted it just to see if it was physically possible for me. On the morning of Ramadan, I was supposed to go to "the hill" in village with some friends to watch the large prayer around 9/10 in the morn. But it started raining, so they ended up doing a shortened-version of the prayer, and I missed it. Bummer. There's always next year...inshallah. So then I was at my house not doing anything so I went to the hospital. But no one had come to work due to the holiday, so I just hung out at my supervisor's house and chilled with the kiddos (fave past time). In the afternoon there was a soccer game between the men of the village and "elites", or men native to the village who have since found work and moved to the city of Ngaoundere. I watched the game with my supervisor and then went back to their house for din. There was some dancing and "fete-ing" in the evening, but I didn't feel up to it, so I went to bed pretty early. At 4 am I woke up randomly and could still hear the music blaring from the party at the chief's house.

A tradition at Ramadan is to buy and wear new clothes. The adults sport their new look to the morning prayer and the children wear the new attire (complete with new braids and henna for girls and hair cut for boys) all day long and just walk around showing it off and acting like they are "kindof big deals".
The Ramadan date depends on the lunar calendar. In the days leading up to the holiday, everyone knows that it's coming but never knows the actual date. It's not until the night before that people are informed it will be the following day. Also, 40 days after Ramadan, the Tabaski holiday will take place here.

Children in front of my house, all decked out for the celebration

Also, people aren't supposed to get married during Ramadan. So, naturally, the day right after the holiday, there were two marriages (that I know of) here in village. People also aren't supposed to drink during the month leading up to R-dan that they're fasting. So, yes, the evening of dancing I'm sure would have been eventful had I been up for it.

Another little tradition is that kids (in their hot new outfits) walk around the village and say "Barka da salla" to adults. It means Happy Holiday! And when they do that, adults are supposed to say "Salla da goro" and give them a goro, which I was told by someone is a kola nut but another person told me it's just a candy. So it seems to me that Ramadan is a mix between Christmas and Halloween with the presents and walking-around-candy-giving tradition.

So ya, Ramadan came and went, pretty uneventful for me, but everyone in village seemed happy about it. Barka da salla!

Fasting

August 22, 2011

Fasting for Ramaddan

Day 1: Um what... surprisingly and shockingly good. So I have never fasted before in my entireee life, I don't remember the last time I skipped a meal much the less didn't have my water bottle glued to my hand in this heat. Ramaddan here in village has been well under way for three weeks, and people aren't even phased by it. It is also bean season which means that everyone is working in the fields all day with no food and no water. Um if they can do that, I can give this whole fasting thing a shot. So, with fasting, here are the rules:
-Wake up between 4 and 4:30 am. Eat as much as you can between that time and 4:58 am. Go pray at 5:00 am.
-Don't touch food or water again until 6:30 pm but pray at 1:30 pm and 3:30 pm and 6ish pm
-Chug water and eat as much as humanly possible between 6:30 and 7 pm
-Pray again at 7 pm, and continue the feasting until you pass out around 8:30 pm
-Wake up. Do it all again for one month
So last night I ate with my usual fam and they were all really tired, so I can back early around 8pm. I was still hungry for some reason (of what? fourth meal of the day? it's fine) so I munched on some trail mix in bed while listening to music and fell asleep around 10 pm.
I woke up at 6am, whoops already past 5 am, can't eat. So I didn't. I worked in the garden a bit in the morning, washed laundry, went to another village for drop off a report with someone from the hospital, visited the hospital, came back, worked on a campaign with someone in village who is distributing medicine, made food, brought it over to the fam, and "broke fast" at 18:32 by drinking some bru-ee and munching on cucumber salad that I had made. And then I consumed (in this order): bennets made by Nini with bru-ee, cucumber salad, water, more bru-ee, couscous part 1 with my sauce plus fadi's sauce, cucumber salad, more couscous with meat sauce from a friend.
But during the fast, I wasn't hungry. I wasn't grumpy. I craved water a bit in the afternoon but it wasn't bad. I feel fine. But this makes me worried. Here are my possible reasons for a successful fasting day 1:
1. there is something seriously wrong with my body so not having food or water for 20 hours didn't phase it
2. mind over matter. I knew that I could do this and that I wanted to because everyone else works so much harder than me in the fields and if they can do it, I can do it.
3. It is still day 1. The lack of nutrition hasn't set in.
4. Maybe I'm normally consuming too many "cous-cous calories" so this is a healthy and necessary cleansing process and my body likes the rest from breaking down carbs
5. I was busy today. If I was sitting in my house reading all day and eyeing the yummy trail mix that my mother sent, things may be different.

August 22

Day 2: still fine, visited health center in morning and worked on a medicine distribution campaign in afternoon. Chowed down at 6:32 pm

August 23

Day 3: starting to feel the effects a bit. This is what my body is doing: right when i wake up and at noon I will be so hungry that I can't focus on anything else. But once I tell myself that I can't eat or drink and I'll just have to wait, the hunger subsides and everything is fine and normal. It is a bit crazy how little food our bodies need to still function.

August 24

Day 4: Today was a bit more difficult. It was sunny alll day long and I working on the medicine distribution campaign both in the morning and afternoon. When the kids came to visit and were jumping around and screaming, I had very little patience and was jealous of their amount of energy (children and people who are sick are exempt from fasting during this month). My goal right now is to fast until the fete/festival of Ramaddan, which will complete one full week.

August 25

Day 5: came into the city. Stomach is growling like crazy, baby-lion-style. Stayin strong, stayin strong. I have my granola bar, peanuts and other snacks ready for when 6 pm hits. Food consumed (in this order) starting at 18:30pm exactly: 2 bags of peanuts, fish + baton manioc + plantains, more peanuts, cracker jacks sent from my mother, more peanuts.

August 26

Day 6: Woke up and subconsciously grabbed my water bottle and chugged some water. Darnit. Broke fast at 7 am. Will not make that same mistake tomorrow.

17 august 2011

Some cute little stories:

-I was working in the garden the other day with some kids from the neighborhood. We were weeding and moving around dirt to create another row of beans. We were losing speed and getting tired quickly in the hot sun. An older boy named Ila showed up and started helping us shovel to build the dirt-mound-row. I was going to walk inside to grab some beans that I had bought to plant, when all of a sudden, Ila pulls out a handful of beans from his pocket. He gave half to me and half to a little girl, Sadia, and together we planted the row of beans. I don't know why this struck me as such a cool happening; maybe because during planting season here in Cameroon, beans are like currency/pocket change. Or it makes me happy that farming is such a communal event that requires the help of everyone.

-So I was over at the fam's house (Fadi, Nini, Saddam and Babba) the other night and Fadi had made potatoes (sweet potatoes and "irish" potatoes) and I told her that I like the "irish" potatoes because chez nous, at my house, we mash them up with oil and salt and they are so delicious. So Nini comes back after selling things and starts making herself some dinner. I told Fadi I was tired and was going to head home, but she said to wait to have a snack with Nini. Fadi must have told Nini what I said because, after the potatoes were all cooked, Nini mashed them up with a millet pounder, added salt and we ate them together :) just like I'm used to.

-So the other day when kids were over at my house, Nini (9 years old) was babysitting a little girl named Habiba (11 months old). Habiba fell asleep on Nini's back, so we laid her down on the mat on my floor. Nini was sitting next to her, and outside, some rambunctious boys started wrestling. Nini is wise beyond her age and has been practicing her French with me more and more. As the boys get louder, she looks over at me and says "vraiment, les enfants comme ca", literrally meaning "really, the children like that", but translating more like, "honestly, these children sometimes". She must have heard me and Fadi say that a lot. It was too cute.

august 3, 2011

Happy Ramaddan to all! Ramaddan started this past Sunday, on July 31st. This means that people wake up between 3:30 and 4:00 am, eat as much as their bellies will allow, and then don't eat or drink anything again until 6:30pm. This will happen for a whole month, and there a grand fete at the end to celebrate making it through the fasting. It makes me a bit nervous seeing guys driving motorcycles down the road or working out in the fields all day when I know they haven't touched water since before the sun came up. Nevertheless, I admire the physical and emotional strength it takes to do this for thirty days straight. I think I'm going to fast for one of the four weeks. I need to plan it out so that I'm not doing too much at that time and can relax (faire de repos)/sleep in the afternoon when the energy and blood glucose level is lagging. We'll see how it goes; wish me luck!

7 aout 2011
So whenever you get an email from me, or skype with me, or chat with me on facebook, it is because I am in the city of Ngaoundere. The voyage here usually takes 45 minutes total. Today, however, the journey was more eventful than others:

8 am left the homestead. I was traveling into the city to meet with my french tutor and have a lesson, so I wanted to head in early. I said good morning to everyone and headed onto the road...

...where I waited 25 minutes for a car to pass by. Because on Fridays the market is far away, all the cars are there. No problem. I sat and chatted with some peeps and when the first car going in the right direction passed, I flagged it down.

....so I am in the car, we pick up three other people. This makes 8 total. I believe this is an appropiate time to talk a little bit about transportation in C-roon. I have no idea how vehicles arrive in Cameroun, but they have already been used somewhere else like America or Euro. The "newest" of cars are still in rough shape, so you can imagine what my bush-cars are like. When I say that 8 people were in this used Toyato, I mean there are 4 of us in the back, 2 in the front passenger seat, the driver, and one other "mini-driver" next to him. My record so far for this type of bush-car has been 10 people: 4 in the front and 4 in the back plus 2 children. No seatbelts, windows don't often roll down, windshields are always broken in ten places...it's a great time. Anywho, so we're driving along and everything is going as it always does, until...

....the car stops. Ok. nothing new. the driver tries to start it a few times. probably needs gas. this has happened before...but what hasn't happened before is the car actually not starting again even when it gets pushed down a hill by some kind passerbys. The driver finds a guy on a motorcycle and sends him to get some gas. Ok, so maybe it was just the gas. The gas arrives, but still the car does not start. So the driver gets out, flips up the hood and starts doing all sorts of things. He tries to start it again, no go. Then he takes a crowbar and starts banging some metal pipe under the car. I'm like please no, if this car explodes, I am stuck right here between two women and one stinky man. He tries pushing the car backwards down a little hill, and it almost starts...but then dies again.

.....Then it starts raining. It is about 10 am now. I'm like this is ridic. Have patience Alison, have patience. Other cars pass by in the opposite direction but none come our way. The driver is still attempting banging under the car and under the hood but nothing works. Finally, a car in our direction arrives. The other-car driver also looks under the hood and bangs under the car, but he says there's no way he can fix it. At this point, myself and stinky man get out and go in their car. Second car driver attaches a rope between the two cars and we head off again towards the city; our now-car pulling old car. Old car still has all my stuff in it.

....So we're off and we reach a big downhill and first car driver is having a hard time navigating and hits the back of our car and the rope breaks due to the impact. So we all stop and re-attach the rope. That happens about 8 times.

....So we reach a police checkpoint/toll road. The rope breaks at the checkpoint (of course right) and the toll road boys help push car #1 so that it's not blocking other cars; inadvertently putting it in front of our car. A police comes over and starts blowing his whistle for us to move along so our car comes up behind car #1 and pushes it to a place where we have room to re-attach the rope. But this of course breaks off the entire bumper and rear headlights. Great.

.....So we're back on the road and we slowly make it to the city before Ngaoundere called Dang. At Dang, we stop and retrieve our things from car #1. Yes, finally. It is 10:45 am now. We leave car #1 and....right before we are in Ngaoundere, we hit a line of traffic and have to stop in the same spot that a huge truck is making a turn around us...and hits our car. I'm like you've got to be joking me. No major damage was done because the truck was moving slowly, but I just thinking in my head about how many bad omens there were to not go into the city today.

....I arrived for my french class at 11:20 am.
Total time of travel: 3 hours 20 minutes. Cost of trip: 1000 FCFA, about $2. Memories: Priceless

Just some things about my life here in Cameroon to-date:

Running Creature Count/ RCC: Cockroaches 13, random dead cockroaches (I didn’t commit the act but somehow they are in my house and they are not alive) 4, little spiders 20, big spiders 11, earwigs 5

Last movie watched out here at post: The Life Aquatic, which i highly recommend :) great film

Top-2 nicest things said to me thus far:

1. After explaining an alternative method of adding fractions to a boy doing his math homework, he said that I was a really good teacher and no one has ever explained math in simple terms like that to him.

2. After taking out my braids one morning and leaving my hair down and curly, one of the nurses at the health center said it looked pretty. No, I said, here in Africa, it's prettier to keep my hair in braids. No, he said, you are beautiful, all beautiful, just the way you are.

Top-2 not-so-nicest things said to me thus far:

1. While walking to work one morning, an anglo-phone man (one who speaks english) greeted me and asked what the things on my forehead were. I explained that my acne is from eating a lot of oil here. He said, and I quote, "You have a lot of pimples. You should do something about that".

2. Over a month after Ashia has passed away, a woman that I don't even know came up to me and said she heard that my dog died. And that she thought I shouldn't have cried, it's not like it was a person.

Top-3 American food cravings:

3. shrimp cocktail

2. fried haddock

1. salmon and lemon sauce

hmmmmmm seafood craving anyone?

Travels with Fadi:

So my mama out here at post is named Fadi. She is a farmer and grows beans, corn and peanuts, but she also works at a weekly market. Every Sunday, she and three other women from our village go and sell things in the city of Dang. This means that every Friday and Saturday, she is busy gathering vegetables and flour from various people to sell on Sunday. It is always an adventure when I'm at their house on those days because we go to all different places and houses to pick up things for her to sell. Most recently, we went in search of millet flour last Friday. Since it is almost Rammadan, she said, everyone wants to buy millet flour to make bruee (water + millet flour + rice + sugar, drink up yum yum). So we're (Fadi, Nini and me) off with two empty sacs and two flashlights on Friday evening after dinner. It has raineddddd all Friday, so we trek through puddles and mud like I have never seen before to house #1. When we arrive, we walk down a hill that is slick with mud and make it to her friend's concession, but he's not there. Oh great, so we climb back up (Nini is holding on to me at this point so she won't fall), and, with now-mud-ladden flipflops, continue on. We arrive at house #2. We enter into the kitchen where some women are boiling millet wine over the fire. On the floor is a week-old goat. Do vino, the women say. Welcome. There isn't much room inside the small kitchen so Nini sits on my lap and picks up the goat to pet on her lap. Fadi's friend has the flour that we are searching for, and so they lay it all out on a sac and begin counting bowl-fulls. As I'm shining my flashlight on the counting process, I notice the women is bare-footedly stepping on something. Oh right, just the skin of the cow that was slatered to sell in town today on Friday. The head, hooves and tail are close-by. Classic. The counting is then done and we head on back through the mud to our neighborhood....

Kids reading National Geographic in my house

So my mother sent me some french books for the kids here to read/learn from. One book permanently stays at Fadi's house; the First 1000 French Words. The kids love it, they look at it every night and we play a game where I say the french word and they find the object on the page. However, I've come across a few minor problems with some of the words. When Nini asks me what a toaster is, I don't know how to explain that in French so that she will understand. And would she even understand if I explained that it's an instrument to cook bread? Nini would say that bread is already cooked. Or teaching the kiddos words like "picnic" "park" or "trashcan" don't seem to make much sense if they will never use these words in their life. So, usually, I just stick with objects on the page that they will recognize and use in the future.

12 aout 2011

8 months ago to the day, I was at the health center in my village of Dan Turke in Niger weighing babies when I received the call that all Peace Corps volunteers were being evacuated. So much has happened since then on this journey. There is the physical evidence to show what has changed; a new village, home and life here in Cameroon and photos to chronical to journey through Morocco and Cameroon. There is evidence in the way I speak that I have re-learned French and now Fulfulde and Dii words are driving into my subconscious. But what can't be seen? How do I feel about all of this? What of the evidence that only I know about; the mefloquine dreams about other Niger volunteers who I became close friends with, the way I feel today about Africa and international aid, and the Cameroonian friends I have made here in village? This evidence has become what I live by and my reality. And the truth is, really, that in terms about what I feel about all of this... I feel pretty good. I am taking the different roller-coaster-of-emotions every day as it comes and facing each new obstacle knowing that I can surpass it if I put my mind to it. These obstacles currently include learning Dii, teaching children the french alphabet instead of just memorizing sounds as they are taught in school, and finding a way to approach preventive healthcare here that will be sustainable and worthwhile. I feel happy and grateful for where these past 8, well actually in total, close to 10, months have taken me and I'm ready to keep on keeping on as the journey continues.

Just a little note about this whole blog thing:

It's always bizarre to me whenever I come into the city of Ngaoundere and look at my blog, or edit it with new tales of my village. I open up the website, right, and I see the words that are my stories and thoughts. I see the comments people have left me, photos I have posted, and links to friends' blogs. If I go to another link, I see photos of my friends here, my house, and the health center...But all of that is a bit bizarre to me because I'll look up from the computer screen and see the city of Ngaoundere and I'll hear the sounds of the city and smell the aromas of the city and listen to the people speaking in Fulfulde or Hausa, and that's when I realize....that really this blog is just no good. Ok, let me explain. I could post a photo of my house; I could even take a video of my house and post it, and you would look at it because you want to see what my life here is like and where I'm living, but really, that photo/video is not actually my house. It is a building yes, the photo can describe a 1,000 words, but there are so many other things that will be left behind. Because even if you see the photo of my house and I describe it to you in even a million words, you still can't:

-see the children sitting on the floor in my house looking through the National Geographic magazines and you can't hear them yelling out about the weird/cool photos they encounter and create stories about in their native tongue of Dii

-smell the Rambo bug spray that I use to terminate too-friendly cockroaches
-hear the rain pelting on the tin roof and falling off the roof to the ground and making mud as strong and annoying as quick sand

-smell the soy being boiled down to milk as I experiment how to make different healthy foods

-taste the basil and parsley fresh from the garden

-touch and hug and kiss the babies that are brought into my house strapped to their older sibling's backs

So you see, these photos and the words on this blog, I'm sorry, but they are just no good. They are not the whole story or experience, they are just fragments and pieces. Only do I have the whole memory and all the feelings and secrets of my village and of this place...and I love that.

30 juillet 2011

These are things that have happened that i COULD tell you about:

-crashing down my bicycle in my house at 10pm in a successful killing of a cockroach

-people telling me that i know dii very well

-planting morenga in my garden with children

-riding my bicycle to the next town in search of tomatoes, and getting a flat tire on the way

-giving my supervisor's puppy a bath and watching the fleas and ticks jump off of her after

-teaching Nini, a girl neighbor, how to write her name

but instead I'm going to say:

just having some normal every-day kinda days out at post. things that would have phased me before or made good stories are now just part of my normal, everyday life. i'm just getting used to everything and, although it's less exciting than when i first arrived, i like it that way because it shows that i'm just living.

Nothing beats a sunset in village

My hands will never be the same. at the current moment, these are my hands:

left hand fingernails: painted black from henna (called seepa here)

right index finger: cut from chopping up ochre/gumbo into little pieces to make a sauce

both thumbs: blisters from using the shovel all day in the garden

both ring and pinky fingers: tiny cuts from employing my hands as a mower for the sharp, long grass around my house

right thumb: healing cut from cutting hakondiam last week to make a sauce

under fingernails: dirt, dirt and more dirt from working in the garden and planting beans

joints: achy from making kneading dough the other night with my friend to make bennets

Little Sadia falling asleep (mid-biscuit) on my floor during a rainstorm

Happy 4th of July all

Hello friends and fam,
      Hope everyone is doing well and spending some quality-fun-time this July 4th. I uploaded some new pics from June to Picasa and Facebook albums:

Picasa Pics

Facebook Cameroon Album

Good things that are happening right now:
-a lot of yummy vegetables are sprouting in the garden
-planning an HIV/AIDS and Vaccination paraeducator training
-learning more and more Fulfulde and Dii everyday

Tata for now!

My dear little friend Nini with vegetables

Rest in Peace Ashia

I am sad to inform you all that Ashia passed away on June 26th. She ate a mouse that had eaten rat poison. I will remember Ashia for our morning jogs, for playing with kids in our neighborhood and for being my best friend. I don't plan on getting another dog anytime soon.

16 juin 2011

Things that did happen today:
-i had a mini conversation with someone in fulfulde
-i greeted everyone i saw in dii
-someone told me they were going to steal my dog
-ate two mangoes and two avocadoes

Things that did not happen today:
-make my own couscous
-run in the morning
-Ashia acted like a calm and non-biting pet

I would consider today my first actual day of work. Lately, I have been a bit upset because I don't feel like I do a whole lot at the hospital. I had mentioned to Essaya awhile ago that I could make posters to hang up around the center, but he didn't seem too enthusiastic about that for some reason, so I didn't do it. But I felt like doing something today and brought paper from my house to the center and make an educational vaccination poster. It will be hung up in the large room we use for weekly vaccinations and will be a tool for the staff when we give animations, but also a visual aid for parents to learn about the vaccinations. Essaya has quickly come to realize that I have bomb poster skills. When I go into town at the end of this month, I will be laminating the vaccination poster and buying tons more paper to make educational posters for every room of the center :) yaaaa I'm doing thingssss that are productive and helpful :)

A lil random anecdote:

The other day, I went to say hello to some friends who live next door. As I walked into the concession, a naked baby was crying on the floor. So I picked her up and started playing with her so she'd stop crying. And then I felt something sandy and hot on my arm. Poo. Lots of poo. I kindly handed her off to another child and washed off my arm. Then I greeted my friends and sat down to hold her newborn baby. I started playing with the baby and....hot liquid running down my shirt and panya. Baby pee. I kindly handed her off. My friend said, "when a baby pees or poops or vomits on you, that means you're going to have a baby". I had to kindly tell her that that will not be happening anytime soon. The throw-up is still yet to occur.

And another:

So children are terrified of Ashia. This is clear. My mother generously sent me books in French for children to read (slash look at, that whole reading thing is still to be determined) when they randomly come to visit. However, children no longer visit. Because of Ashia. Every afternoon, however, they do come over and call Ashia to play. Which involves all the children in our neighborhood standing in a group, and I run towards them, and Ashia runs with me, and all the children scream and run away. They love it. The majority of the time, Ashia just stops running when I stop, so the game doesn't exactly work. But every now and again, she will pick one child and run after that innocent boy or girl. She never hurts them, obviously, but it is hysterical to see their reactions when they see that she is indeed right on their heels.

And another:

So panya is a piece of fabric wrapped around a woman's waist. The only thing that holds it on is the Mu symbol (anyone physics, anyone? the M symbol coincides with the amount of friction given to a certain object, every object has a different M coefficient, and when panya is wrapped around the waist and tucked in, this power of friction, and possibly a bit of inertia? science people help me out... is what prevents the panya from falling and leaving the woman bottomless). So I am walking down the dirt road with Ashia and we turn a corner. Two innocent, unexpecting children see Ashia and start freaking out. The boy runs into the nearest concession and the little girl starts running and screaming. And Ashia runs after her. So she starts running in circles around me to place some sort of barrier between herself and the crazy puppy. So she is running in circles and screaming and making a scene around me....can anyone see where this story is going?... and one tug on me....and the panya is gone. Thank goodness I wasn't holding anything, so I quickly grabbed the fabric from her hands/the ground and rewrapped it. I will be wearing another non-wrap-skirt underneath panya from now on.

Climate here right now: absolutely gorgeous. It is sooooo green and I have a feeling it will only continue. People have made comments when visitng me about the level of weeds in my yard. Well actually the comment goes something like "oh so you like snakes?"....so I've started pulling all weeds in my front yard, back yard and garden. A bit every day isn't so bad, and it's a killer workout.

Workouts for today:
Pulled weeds in garden 6-6:30 am
Swept house and washed floor 6:30-7:00 am
Washed dishes 7:30 am
Walked to health center (not actually sure the distance, but it takes about 15 min) 8:30 am
+ walked back from health center 2:00 pm
Swept and mopped house again 3:30 pm
Did laundry 3:30 - 4:00 pm
Pulled some water from well 4:00 pm
Helped knead dough to make bennets with the fam 8:00 pm
.......I think if I stopped eating couscous, my body would be rocking. But, ya, that's not gonna happen. Couscous = life here.