26 mars 2011

Something else for my poor mother to worry about:

So, last night I went over to my friend Etienne's house. His mother is the secretary of the women's group that I'm in and his father is the supervisor of a health center in the next town over. I usually go to Aissatous' every night, but he invited me over and I hadn't seen them in a while, so I went. We were all hanging out in the living room and chatting and Etienne turned on the generator so we could watch TV. I started showing the supervisor the data tables that I made when I walked around the village doing the community assessment. All of a sudden, he looked up to the left of my head, and his eyes opened to the size of tennis balls. He motioned slowly for me to stand up, and I nearly jumped into his arms. He pulled me across the room to another chair to sit back down. I turned around, expecting to see a rat-sized cockroach or spidey. Um. ya. nope. Huge scorpion scaling the wall. I was like you have got to be joking me. Etienne grabbed a pole and, like a G6, smothered the scorpion. Then they put kerosene on it and moved it outside. I told them I had never seen one of those in real life, just on television. The supervisor said he'd been stung once on his foot, and that it won't kill you, it will just feel like it's on fire. Oh. grand. He said the stinger's poison is deactivated with kerosene though, that's why they used it. Hmm I wonder how that organic chemistry works. Kerosene+Scorpion sting=nothing. I don't plan on experimenting anytime soon.
Tonight, I went over to their house again. I just wasn't satisfied with the scorpion by my head, had to go back for more. Just joking. Nothing eventful in the creature department, but exciting to see my first-ever Lions soccer match on TV. We lost to Senegal, booooooo, 0-1, but it was cool to see. Atleast my fellow Niger evacuees who transferred to Senegal will be celebrating tonight.

How to make + eat Cameroonian Couscous (maize edition)
1. Cultivate corn (details on this step later on during the rainy season), dry, put in sacs.
Alternative to Step 1. Buy maize in large sacs, 10,000FCFA/sac (equivalent to $20).
2. Dry/air out maize kernnels in sun for a day or two. This is done by laying the kernnels on the sacs. If the wind blows some dust on, no prob. If a few chickens walk on the kernnels, no prob. If a goat comes and eats some of the kernnels, no prob bob.
3. Bring dried kernnels to machine. There are 4 machines here in town, 100FCFA to grind a bowl or 1,000FCFA for the whole sac.
4. Again, air out ground maize on the sacs. If this step is ignored, I was told the couscous is inedible because the taste is so awful. I prefer 1-day aired out couscous because it is softer, but most peeps here air it out for 2 days.
5. Sift the couscous. Sifters can be bought in the market for cheap. It's a piece of screen cut into a circle with a wood circumference. The screen supposedly doesn't let dust or chicken poo through. For a family of 9, I have seen them sift and use a large platter of ground maize.
6. Bring water to a boil over fire or gas stove.
7. (Ok now this step I have seen done in many different ways. Women from the North make couscous different than women down here. Both kinds are equally yummy though.) Cook the couscous. Once the water is boiling, add about half of the large platter of ground maize. Next, use the large wooden turning-stick to make a hole in the middle of the added maize. The hole will go from the top of the ground maize through to the bottom of the pot.
8. Cover pot and wait for water to boil again.
9. Add the rest of the ground maize from the platter. Now it is time for the most important step:
10. Use the turning stick to turn the couscous. This can be done in many different ways as well. In general, though, the pot is taken off the heat and the person turning will hold the pot in place using their feet. Turning is truly an art. It is embarassing when I try to do it, but I am determined to achieve this feat one day. Using a circular motion, the couscous is turned to an even consistency so that no ground maize clumps are left. I think turning also adds air to the couscous and makes it more fluffy and scrumptious.
11. After a uniform consistency is reached, a little plastic plate will be used to form the couscous into meal-sized portions and distributed to various plates for eating.
12. Sauce will be added to the eating plates. (Sauce is another lesson for another day).
13. Eat couscous. Using your right hand, take a small portion of the large mound of yummy couscous and form the maize into a mini bowl using your fingers. Then scoop up some of the sauce into the mini bowl, and devour the tasty morsel.

More Statistics and fun facts for you all:
Number of malaria-infected patients at the health center in March 2010: 144
Updated cockroach count: 5
Last book finished: Three Cups of Tea
Cost of my custom-made bookshelf: 16,000FCFA ($32)
Fraction of cliff bars my mom sent me that I've already eaten: 2/6, or 1/3
　
　

24 Mars 2011
I can feel the French getting easier and easier as I'm trying to learn Fulfulde and Dii. Started learning Dii last night from the Aissatous. My little notebook starts with a French section...then a Fulfulde one...then a Hausa one with the words that I remember...and ends with Dii. Whew! Little by little, I'll learn 'em all.

This morning I went for a wonderful bike ride on the main road. I had a lot of thoughts though as I was riding along and want to explain a few of them to you, my wonderful audience. So when I say I go for a bike ride, you all think, "oh it's a nice summer morning grab a waterbottle, get on the bike and head down on the bike path or road for awhile, see the beautiful scenery, come home, shower, and move on with the rest of the day". This is not exactly how it goes. First of all, in order to ride my bike, I need to wear pants. So I put on my pants, socks, sneakers and t-shirt. Before I even step out of my house, I am breaking a gender role because women here in village do not wear pants. So not only am I bizarre because my skin is a different color and I have freckles that look like a disease, oh no, now the nasara (foreigner) is wearing pants. So now, I put on my helmet and get on my Trek 3-series, 21-speed bike right outside of my house. I would estimate that only 1 out of every 6 people in village have a bike, much the less a Trek one sent here from the good ol' U.S. of A. And a helmet? Nope, haven't seen one of those yet. So now I am breaking an economic rule, because every time I pass and greet someone on my bike, I feel like I am flaunting a luxury that the majority of them do not have. Ok, so I haven't even reached the main road to begin serious biking and, already, I've broken a gender role and an economic rule.
Once I get out of town, my mind is at peace. The drizzle of rain calms me and cools me down and I appreciate the sun peering through the clouds ahead. But still I'm wondering, is it worth it? The first and most important goal of living in a rural community is to effectively integrate. Without integration, people will not trust and respect me, and thus will not look to me for help on projects they want to achieve for the community. What if I am unable to integrate because I'm breaking too many norms? Does a simple morning bike ride give off the wrong impression of wealth and disrespect for gender roles? Or does anything go because they have accepted that I will always be different and weird?...Maybe I'm just thinking into all of this a bit much.

When I was traveling around Morocco with Miss Alma, we had a few debates about beauty in the sense that things that are unique or uncommon, we often perceive as beautiful. Is beauty in the eye of the beholder, or is beauty simply something different?
-At the health center one day. A Fulfulde woman came in for a consultation and while she was waiting for lab results, she pointed at me and told my supervisor something. He translated for me that she thought my nose was so little and beautiful. That's a first.
-I'm asked about every other day what the little spots are all over my arms. "Nawa? Pain?", or henna? No, I try to explain, it's called "taches de roussette" in french, all white people have them, they're from the sun. Unfortunately, beauty marks (as my mother calls them) doesn't translate into french, hausa, fulfulde, or dii. They all think my freckles are a disease.
-One day, a nurse named Asta was teaching me how to turn couscous. She had one foot on each side of the scalding-hot pot of maize and instructed me to do the same after her. As I was attempting to turn the maize/couscous, she pointed out that I have hair on my legs. "Ya I need to shave" I said. "No, it's beautiful", she said. "And you have hair on your arms. I wish I could grow hair like that". Um, what, nair would go out of business if they starting selling products in this country.

P.S. I have a puppy! There are these 3 adorable puppies by Asta's house, and she asked the owner if I could have one. He said I could take it whenever I want. When I arrive back in village after the one-week training meeting, the puppy chow is all mine!!!! Ya, now I must learn Sit, Stay and Come in Dii! I think I will name it Moussa (which means kitty cat in Hausa).

First Post in Croon continued ;)

20 Mars 2011

Random stories that have happened thus far here:

-so the first Sunday I was here, I was washing my clothes in my house and I heard a knock at the door. I opened the door and two men who I had never seen before were standing outside. I greeted them in Fulfulde and then they said something that I didn't understand and one of the men motioned for me to take the thing in his hands: a live chicken. I said whatt in french and they motioned again for me to take it. The man was holding the live rooster by the tied-together feet. I tried to ask them in french where they live so I could come by later to get the chicken with a friend who knows what the heck to do with a live foul, but francais was a no go. They motioned once more and I hesitantly reached out and grabbed the chicken by the feet. Mi soko, soko, I thanked them and they left. As soon as they were out of my concession, the rooster turned its head and pecked me on the hand. I screamed a let it go. It flew about two feet in a big mess of feathers and cock-a-doodle-doing before landing in my concession. It couldn't leave because its feet were tied together, so I ran next door and grabbed Aissatou. "M'aide! Help me!" I yelled and she followed me back to the house. I asked her what to do with it, and she just picked the poultry up (like a pro obviously) and said they would make supper tonight. I stopped by twenty minutes later and they had already killed and de-feathered mr. rooster. 

-so I have this thing about cockroaches. I bought this bug spray called Rambo (that will most likely give me cancer as well as kill the roaches) and sprayed my latrine from top to bottom. That killed most of them. And I am very careful to keep my door and windows closed after dusk so they can't find their way in. But every now and then one appears at night out of nowhere. When the Aissatous walk me home at night, we have a routine where they survey the floor of my home with their flashlight for spidies and roaches and when spotted, they shoo them outside with the broom. However, on the one night when the flashlight survey wasn't thorough enough, I closed and locked the door after the gals left, and turned around the find a big ol' roachie in my flashlight. Instant panic. Instant adrenaline. The thing is though that I really don't like killing them. Life must stink for a roachie, literally and figuratively and I feel kindof bad for them even though they're so ugly. However, on this particular night, I was in no mood to re-open the door and shoo him out. So I set down the flashlight to give a good view of the critter, lifted the broom, and aimed for him. With adrenaline pumping through my veins, my force was stronger than I thought, and a huge BOOM sound echoed through my house. The broom had broken a piece off and it had flown across the room. My aim had been dead-on though. Roachies 0, Alison 1. I duct-taped the broom handle (that had cracked as well) the next morn. I think that's called karma.

Things that Cameroonians are better at than me:

-Speaking Hausa, Fulfulde, Dee, Boom, Cameroon French-Washing children in basins-Dealing with live chickens-Turning couscous-Finding firewood-Carrying things on their heads-Dancing-Singing-Eating couscous-crochetting-pulling water

Things that I'm better at than Cameroonians:

-Analytical reasoning-Making clotheslines in homes-Cooking spaghetti-Using office supplies-Locating Cameroon on a world map-building "Etages" or mini-buildings out of scrabble tiles

I've noticed that Murphy's Law doesn't apply here. I noticed this is Niger as well but it is more apparent here. Five people riding on a two-person motorcycle- and not getting into an accident. Walking around barefoot out in the bush- and not getting a cut. Drinking well water that is the color of chocolate- and not getting sick. My favorite example of this happened during the community assessment when I was walking around and interviewing all the women in the village. I saw a little girl in a home pick up a sharp cooking knife (that had been lying on the ground of course, best place to store things you use to cook food) and lick the dirt off of it on both sides- and she didn't cut her tongue. 

21 Mars 2011. I have been in village for one month and have not gotten sick. Knock on wood. This is a miracle. AT LEAST once a day, I will be invited to eat something or try something at someone's house after I've watched how they prepare it, and I say to myself "Alright Alison, if you get sick, then atleast you know why". But it hasn't happened yet. I don't feel grrrrreat, but I think with time and normal exercise I will. I have run a few times and had a grand bike ride one morning, but I hope to make a morn bike ride part of my everyday routine.

Just some stats

Minimum temperature recorded here thus far: 73.3

Maximum temperature recorded here thus far: 118

Roach count 4

Little Spidey Count 13

Big Spidey Count 3

Times my hair has been braided thus far 3

Record number of meals eaten in one day so far 6

Current weight 63 kilos= about 138 pounds right?

Average number of times I am asked for something per day 3

Age of the youngest girl who came into the health center for her prenatal consultation 15

Average percentage of conversations that I understand 30%

Costs in Village (1 USD = app. 550 FCFA)

1 Egg 100 FCFA

1 Bennet (just like dunkin' donut munchkins, but with more oil) 25 FCFA

Hand-made clay pot for cooking 400 FCFA

Flipflops 400 FCFA

Stylish plastic flats 1500 FCFA

Charge cellphone at generator 100 FCFA

1 "baguette" 100 FCFA

Bag of salt or sugar 100 FCFA

Container of clean water from the pumpo 25 FCFA

First month at post in Croon

March 7, 2011

Things I'm grateful for today:

   -a phone call from mama

   -little biscuits that Rose makes (called croquettes)

   -the clouds turning pink and purple at dusk

   -mefloquine and good health

   -Abdu, a three-year old little person who is so cute

   -when peanut butter is put in vegetable sauce :) yum

   -the four random episodes of the O.C. that Sarah put on my 
    ipod before I left

Things I'm not grateful for today:

   -cockroaches the size of mice in my house

   -mice in my house

   -trying to communicate with people who speak a mix of french, fulfulde, 
    dee, boom and hausa

   -parents that don't bring their children that have malaria into the health 
     center until their temperature is 104

15 Mars 2011

Hellooooo everyone!! I hope that everyone is doing wonderfully. I have been at post now for three weeks and I don't even know where to start. So much has happened and so much is going on. I am so grateful to be here, my village is great, the people are kind and welcoming and health work here is much-needed but manageable. 

The Village

My town is an hour outside of Ngaoundere, the largest city in the Adamawa region of Cameroun. In Ngaoundere, we have a "case" that belongs to all the volunteers in this region. Volunteers stay at the case when they are traveling through the country or for regional meetings or other business (planning projects, banking, etc.). My village is the ideal situation for me. It is located right on the main road so traveling is easy, but it is rural in the fact that there is no running water or electricity. There is both a primary and high school here. My estimate is that 4,000 people live here, although I may have a better idea about the population after the community assessment is complete. The town is surrounded my fields upon fields in every direction. Nearly every person in town is a farmer. Planting season is quickly approaching and I am pumped to tag along with some peeps and see how the harvest goes down over here in the C-roon. 

The Homestead

My house is brand new and was built by a wealthy dude in town. It has two separate parts, one bedroom/latrine and one larger room for the kitchen and side bedroom/latrine. Right when I arrived, the treasurer of the health center and wicked nice guy helped me change all the locks to ones that I had purchased and discussed with my possibilities for the windows. I'm going to have special windows made that have glass on one side and screen on the other; to keep the buggies out and the sunlight in. I bought the very basics when moving out here, so everytime I head into Ngaoundere, I plan on buying a piece of furniture or something for the house so eventually it will feel like my home. I have almost erradicated all the creatures in the house. The spiders were first to go. The cockroaches were next, but every other day or so another little bugger shows up. I'm not quite sure how to get rid of the mice that are having a field day up in the ceiling. If I poison them, they'll die up there and stink up the whole place. Or die and fall down...on me when I'm sleeping...joy. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know. Do mice hate garlic just like vampires? Because I have a lot of that, maybe that would make them leave. 

The Health Center

Monday through Friday I work at the health center, which was built in 2006 by the government. My amazing supervisor, Essaya, moved here with his family this past October. Right now, "working" means I'm shadowing the staff at the center and learning about the most prevalent maladies that people have. When my French and Fulfulde are better, I'll be educating people who come to the health center and women with family planning. I also intend to teach health education at the primary and high schools. Last week, I began the community assessment, which has involved me going around to each home. Essaya's daughter, Josephine goes with me to translate fulfulde into french. The goal is to ask every woman in village a series of health-related questions about their family and their children. I decided to start the communtiy assessment with the women for a few reasons. First, they are most commonly at home so they are easy to locate and interview. Second, they are responsible for the children so they know the most common maladies of the family and what their family is lacking in terms of healthcare. I am pumped to start health projects and already have some ideas based on assessment answers thus far, but I'm not getting too ahead of myself. I know my language needs to improve before I attempt large meetings and education.

The Grub

Most important, of courseeeeeee, is the food. Just joking. I love the food here. It is called "couscous" and is eaten three meals a day, seven days a week. But it is not the couscous we know. It is corn, dried and ground up and then boiled and "turned" into a ball-like much. It is hard to describe wow. No but it is yummy. Or it can be made from millet or manioc. And a sauce is made to dip the couscous in. Pitachio and fish. Peanut butter and vegetable. Beef and tomato. The possibilities are endless :). I love it. Why don't we have it in the US? Oh...right...because there's no nutritional value to it...I don't think, I'm going to investigate. Maybe I'll do a calorimetry experiment. I know there's a lot of calories in it because it fills you up, but a good source of fiber, protein, vitamins? That's what the sauce is for I guess. And Rose (Essaya's wonderful wife) makes these little biscuit things called croquetttes that I'm addicted to. Last night she gave me a whole container of them because she knows how much I like them. Um, worst idea ever. I could eat the whole thing in one sitting....but I won't. I'm spacing it out so they last. 

The People

Everyone here is pretty exceptional. I was worried when I first arrived in Cameroon that I had been spoiled by how nice the people were in Niger. I was been pleasantly surprised though to find everyone in my village to be welcoming and happy that I am here. People get pumped when I greet them in my broken Fulfulde and at the two village meetings that have occurred since I have been here, people have applauded when I have been introduced. In my three weeks here, I have grown close to Essaya's family and another family who lives right next to my house. Little Abdu is part of the family that lives close to me. He reminds me of a little boy in my host family in Niger named Razaac. The first time I saw three-year old Abdu, he grabbed a stick from my fence and threw it into the open window of my house. Right then I knew that we would be besties. He is the cutest kid and has started copying everything I say, which is great because I'm teaching him francais, petit a petit. I look forward to spending more time with other families in village when everything slows down. Spending all week in the hospital and doing the community assessment the rest of the time limits the number of free hours I have to roam around the village and hang out with families. I have two years though, insha allah, to spend more time getting to know the people that live here.

18 Mars 2010

Random anecdote from today: So Essaya and I were leaving a community meeting (which went very well, he introduced me and I explained in French what I was doing here for the next two years, he translated into Fulfulde) and a man approached him and said his daughter was having complications giving birth. But the man couldn't bring his daughter into the health center cause they lived way out "en brousse". So Essaya and I moto-ed to the hospital, grabbed medical supplies, and drove out. Off of the main road, we hit a dirt road that leads to another village called Mbang Mboom. Their home wasn't far on that dirt road, but the road was in bad shape and I could see why it wasn't feasible to bring a woman in labor on a motorcycle through there. The people are Fulbe, and they migrate with their cattle. Their home was made entirely of straw grass stalks (why can't I speak English anymore? Maybe there's no word in our language for the material you use to build a house in the desert of Africa). The door to get in was so little I had to stoop down. There were two beds inside made out of reeds/stalks (again, no equivalent word in our language) and a pot was boiling on a fire. Inside the pot were grasses and herbs of some sort; which I assume was a traditional medicine drink. Thankfully, the woman had managed to give birth before we arrived. Essaya gave her an injection though that he had brought, and cleaned the baby boy's embilical cord with iodine. He also gave the woman antibiotics for herself and the babe, and informed her of the next vaccination day (this Tuesday) at the health center. Outside of the house, three other women were sitting. Despite their unique attire and tattoos on their faces, I noticed something else interesting about these women; they had chocolate-colored eyes. It struck me. I realized that I have seen only black-colored eyes since I arrived in village. I told Essaya to look, I have the same eyes as them. He told the women I said that, and they started laughing and shaking my hand, so I guess they liked that. I asked to take a picture of the home and the woman's family sitting outside of the house. Essaya explained to them that I had never seen a house like that before. After I took the picture and thanked the family, I looked at their home. One straw house with a mama and tiny babe inside, a family sitting around a fire outside, and a herd of cattle out grazing somewhere. That was this family's existence. Isn't that just the most beautiful thing? The family thanked us again and again for making the trip out (mi soko mi soko) and then we departed. I plan on riding my bicycle out in the future. Hopefully the cattle won't move too far before I get the chance to visit.