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).
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).
Your voice is really coming through in the stories you tell. I love the way you are letting us know what you are thinking about as well as what you are doing.
ReplyDeleteSounds like I better send some dog food...what DO dogs in Cameroon eat?
I still think your freckles are beauty marks!
I know the internet connection is a challenge but I would love to see more pictures of your village and the people you write about.
LOVE!!!MOM