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.
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