14 avril 2011

Run with the pup this morning. We get a little bit farther every day. As we're strolling back, I see a little naked boy ahead in the road walking away from us. Ashia slowly walks up behind him...and I can tell already that this is not going to be good. She is the same height as the boy and he turns towards her when she reaches him. The boy screams and starts running away. Ashia thinks he's playing so she runs after him. So he screams more and runs faster. I yell "kay! kay! no! no!" to Ashia and call her towards me, but she's still chasing after boy. Naked boy trips and falls and gets dirt all over himself. Ashia jumps over him and continues to run around. I'm still yelling "kay! kay". I approach the boy to pick him up. He sees me and starts screaming more. He doesn't seem to know what he's terrified of more- puppy or large white person. He picks himself up and runs even faster away. Trips again. Dust all over himself again. By this time, there is a crowd of children laughing and watching. A woman, most likely the boy's mother, shows up to collect her dust child. She's laughing. "Desole, sorry", I keep saying. Ashia and I walk home. Morale of the story: I need to learn the word for desole in fulfulde and dii.

I told Essaya today that I want to get sick. Knock on wood, I've been in this country nearly two months, and the inevitable has not yet occurred. The first time getting sick is always the first, so I just want it to hurry up and happen now before I get going with teaching and health projects. Essaya said he thinks it's possible for me to not get sick for the two years. That would be a miracle. Ashia ate a dead mouse yesterday. And cow poop. And I pet her everyday. As I said, it would be a miracle, possibly even weird, if I don't get sick.

So I'm good friends with one family in my neighborhood. But one of the girls in the family is always asking me for things. Which is fine; I am used to this. But today she asked me for food three times. Like no. You guys have more food in your house than I do. You are not starving. Stop asking me for eggs just because you see that I am giving them to my dog. So tonight, during time #3 of asking me for eggs, I asked her why she always asks me for things. And I told her that it really isn't ok, and that I have never asked her for anything so why does she think it's okay to do that to me? And she said it is because I have everything....and then papa bear came home so we stopped chatting about it for awhile. And after he left, she said that when she asks for things, she is just joking. Do I have everything? Ok, maybe I have a motorcycle helmet, a cool pair of pants, a bike, and a stove. But I don't have a family here. Or a group of friends like she has. Or food that I grew during the rainy season. Or the knowledge of life here and the language. I may have more material things, but I do not have every "thing".

Some fun stats
Song stuck in my head: DJ caught us falling in love again - Usher
Number of students in my first English class: 15
Number of students on list supposedly to be in the English class: 61
Fresh mangoes eaten out en brousse today: 3
Number of cockroaches killed today: 0
Eggs eaten by Ashia and I in the last 48 hours: 8

first big rain of the year :)

17 avril 2011
So something happened today...and it made me take a step back. Essaya and I left their family house after we'd eaten lunch in the early afternoon to talk to someone in town about an upcoming event, and we moto-ed back two hours later. During that time, Essaya's daughter, Josephine made some croquettes (the amazzzing little biscuits that I purchase daily from Rose). Essaya's son, Moussa (who happens to be left-handed just like me, he's the only one in the fam who is, obvi we're buds) was helping Josephine. She gave him a pot of boiling oil to bring into the house. He tripped on the stairs into the house and the oil spilled on the left side of his face. It looked really awful. His eye wasn't burnt, but was swollen shut and the whole side of his face was white from where the skin has fallen off. Essaya and Rose were upset with Josephine and yelling at her because she had given him the scalding oil to carry. I asked Rose if we could take him into the city for a skin graft. She laughed. It wasn't bad enough for that.
I was talking with Essaya the following day as we were examining the wound. They had put betadine and honey on it. Essaya said "isn't that awful....that Josephine". I told him it's just too bad because his life was changed yesterday. He will have scars on his face for the rest of his life. "Really? He will have marks for always", Essaya asked me. Of course, I said. He is still growing and the skin on his face is very fragile.

Later, I was thinking about Moussa. During the two hours that Essaya and I were gone for a meeting, his life changed. A physical change that will be with him for his entire life. Something that everyone will see. But what about the changes that happen to us that we don't necessarily see? With a scar, it is easy to identify the cause and pain behind it. But what about emotional changes that stay with us that aren't apparent to everyone else? On January 12th, I received a call from the Peace Corps Niger bureau telling me to pack up my bags and be in my regional capital the following day; because I was being evacuated from the country. Since that day, so much has happened. So much has changed. But yet, where are my scars from this life-altering event? I am still healing from the transition, but only I know the change and only I can feel the scar from this change in my life.

Ashia and I went on a nice long walk this past Saturday afternoon. We went out on the path the farthest I've been so far. On the walk back, we passed some beautiful mango trees. I'd seen kids climb them before, so I thought why not? When is the last time I have climbed a tree? It was crazy difficult but so worth it. I was a little freaked out too because the last time I tried to climb a mango tree, a spider crawled on me, and I was like heckkkk no to that. But I just told myself to come to terms with the fact that a spider will crawl on me and that I'll just have to deal with it. So I got up into the tree after three attempts or so (one with sneakers, one with just socks, barefeet, then back to sneaks), and maneuvered my way through the branches. A mango tree is very deceiving because, from the outside, there is more fruit than the eye can take in. But once in the interior of the tree, it is difficult to tell with all the leaves exactly where the fruit is hiding. But I found some. And almost fell out of the tree. They don't call it forbidden fruit for nothing, right? It's fine though, just a few scratches. I jumped down and stuffed my pockets with the juicy fruit that I'd thrown to the ground. When I was picking up the fruit, I noticed a tiny spidey on my arm :). Then pup and I walked on home.

Sunset in village

 

12 avril 2011

So today is Tuesday, but this past Saturday, Essaya and I went to G'obri, a small village about an hour up the road. A fair number of people from this village travel to our health center, and a few weeks back, a woman named Hadidja (that's my name here too, saaaweet) invited us to come out some Saturday. Hadidja and all her friends in G'obri and beyond are Mbororo (def not spelling that right, but that's how it's pronounced). On a post blog I posted, I said how Essaya and I traveled to help a Fulfulde woman give birth out in a field somewhere. Ya, no. I was wrong. She was Mbororo. Their local language is Yako, but they all speak Fulfulde. Apparently it's a different variation of Fulfulde? Who knew? I can't tell the difference yet between Fulfulde and Dii, much the less dialects of Fulfulde.

Ok, so we moto-on out to the village. The market is decent-sized actually despite G'obri being such a small town. It is a large market because the Mbororo are cattle people and bring in their cows/goats/sheep to sell weekly. Mbororo are typically nomadic, so they follow their cattle wherever they go, but pockets of them here in the Adamawa region of Cameroon have settled down and maintained permanent residence. Ok, so we show up at the market and we quickly spot our Mbororo friends. Their attire and appearance is very different from the Dii peeps here.

Attire for men: plastic sneaker shoes (difficult to describe, they look like Nike/Adidas sneakers, except that they are plastic), pants and long shirt of same fabric, HAT, huge sword, plastic water bottle on piece of string.
Attire for women: plastic flats (similar idea to sneakers, but more lady-like), panya skirt of one fabric, panya/soft fabric shirt of another design, flower/bird print scarf tied around head, lots and lots of beaded necklaces.
Oh...and they all have tattoos on their faces. In various amazing designs. So we find our peeps and we're looking for Hadidja. But apparently she's over at the cattle auction. Ok, so we walk over to the cattle auction, which was just closing but we could get the general idea. Tons of animals. Sheep. Cows and more cows. Goats. A full-grown cow goes for 300,000 FCFA ($600) and a baby goat goes for about 20,000 ($40). Essaya and I ate some yummy meat (stand set up right next to auction, obvi) and found Hadidja. She was so pumped to see us, and told me that the Saturday before, she came all the way to my village to bring me a chicken. But I wasn't there...because I was at IST...boo. She said she felt ashamed because she didn't bring the chicken with her to the market because she didn't know we were coming. And she was embarassed that she didn't prepare any food or things to give us. We told her it was fine, and that we will come back and visit another time at her house (yaaaaaaa).

Then we walked back to the market and while Essaya fixed his moto, I chilled with the Mbororo ladies. I don't speak Fulfulde. It was interesting. They kept asking me about my freckles and touching them. I said "they're from the soleil/sun", ya. no. Soleil is not fulfulde. Oh well. Then Essaya and I headed back. I'm so pumped to visit them again. Essaya told them that I want to learn about their traditional medicines...and pretty much be them. It's fine.

Some random thoughts I had today:
-if a vaccine for malaria is ever developed and can be mass-produced, hospitals here will go out of business
-wasn't alone for a single minute of today. Children at my house this morning and all night. A bit annoying. What percentage of the day are Americans alone?
-crazy dream last night about war/apocalypse/cous-cous. mefloquine does crazy things.
-I'll think I'll go on an all-day hike with puppy this Saturday

The Story of Ashia: my puppy and bestest friend

Sooooo I've been eyeing these three pups for sometime now, and, with the help of my nurse friend, Asta, we asked the owner if I could have one. He said I could take it at any time. So when I got back from IST, I stopped over and was given a little girl puppy.

Day 1- carried her from old house to new home, got strange looks from every person I passed, arrived at house, puppy ran away, got help and chased her down, someone helped me tie a rope around her neck and attach her to my house, she wouldn't eat the food I gave her and cried all night long. Puppy: worst decision 2011.

Day 2- puppy is frightened to death of me, tied herself in knots overnight with the rope leash. I went to the health center in the morning, and when I returned, there were four other knots in the rope where she had chewed threw, run away, someone had chased her, and re-tied her to my house. I gave her some milk.

Day 3- Untied leash and took her for a walk. She hesitantly walked behind me. She likes it when I pet her, it probably feels good with all the flea bites.

Day 4- Gave her milk, meat...and a bath. Bath was surprisingly ok. Went on another walk. Used tweezers to pull a tick off her eyebrow. Lit tick on fire with match. Success.

Today- went for a morning walk at 5:30am and an afternoon one at 4:30pm. In the morning we ran a little bit. Gave her a bath and fed her fish for breakfast, couscous for lunch and meat for dinner. We are besties. Puppy: best decision 2011.

The only thing that deranges (disturbs) me about the puppy is when people tell me what to do with her. Like that I shouldn't give her a bath because she'll get sick. But then when I'm giving her a bath and they are watching me, they tell me how to bathe her. No. You don't know. You don't wash your dog, how would you know how it's done? Or when they tell me what I should and shouldn't give her for food. And when she's hungry. Dude, people, you don't even feed your dog. Don't tell me she's not going to like rice. Your dog doesn't even know what rice is because it only eats trash. Everything else about little Ashia is wonderful. Except she has fleas and ear mites. We're working on it.
   
So people are petrified of her. I've watched children when she's around and the only thing I can compare their reactions to is what I do when I see a...cockroach or scorpion. If Ashia playfully runs towards them, they scream, and run as fast as possible in the opposite direction. I guess she makes a good guard dog in the sense that children have been conditioned to run away from dogs. It's just sad though when children start crying just because a nice little puppy comes near them. Or maybe they cry because they're scared of me. Ya....we make a pretty good team.

IST + la vie back in village

April 8, 2011

It's been so long...
...since I've written a post for the blog. So March 27th through Apil 3rd, I was in Ngaoundere for a conference called Inservice Training a.k.a. IST. Jeff (Niger evacuee with me who was in my same Health/Agriculture class) and I joined our new-Cameroon-class for a week of meetings. The first three days of training was with our supervisors, and the other four were just the volunteers. We were split up into our Agriculture/Health groups. A lot of the information, I think, was same-old same-old for current volunteers, but for me the majority of it was new or Cameroon-specific, so it was all very beneficial for supervisor, Essaya, and myself. I left the training with a lot of motivation and currently have a ton of kokari (sorry, had to, "effort" in Hausa) to complete assessments and start projects in my village.

Goals for this month:
All-men-in-village meeting
All-women-in-village meeting
All-peeps-in-village meeting
Find school teacher to be my Fulfulde/Dii tutor
Identify first big project the people in the community want to do

This is a good place to talk a little bit about the d-word: development. We touched on it a bit during IST but I have been thinking a lot about it recently. My PERSONAL feeling about development is that it needs to be 100% organized and managed by the people it will benefit (thus making it completely sustainable). In Niger, I had an interesting convo with dear friend Yaa, who I believe is now in Namibia??? I'll facebook her. She said that her feelings about development paralleled a quote found on the UN website. She had it written down, but I will paraphrase it: Development is only fully achieved when an entire community or population of people seeks change and achieves it in every aspect being socially, financially and culturally.
Ok, I'm going to try and find the quote. But essentially, what it was getting it, is that change and development of a culture needs to come from the people themselves. If I go to my village and conduct malaria education or bring a 100 moquito nets and distribute them, that is great and all, but it can't be classified as development. That is just someone coming in and leaving something that wasn't there before. Change needs to come from within the people, and I would be there to act as a resource in order to make the change that they seek, and will mantain, possible.
      
So today, actually, Essaya and I were chatting before the men's reunion, and we got onto the topic of development. I tried to explain this philosophy of mine to him in that I want to assist in projects/development that the people themselves are initiating and seeking to achieve. Even though he has worked with PC volunteers in the past, it was still difficult for him to understand why I couldn't just bring money and things to the village if I have access to them? After explaining for a long time to him that doing that will not benefit the community, I realized that I can't blame him. Currently, Africa is a breeding ground for NGOs. Essaya has lived here his whole life, and has seen more "nasaras" come here and leave that I think I'll ever fully understand. Every now and again, he will tell me a story about an organization that he knew of that was working here. No wonder he and every other person in the village expects things and not information from me.
      
A little anecdote about training that I would like to share: ok so day 1 of training with our supervisors. Some of the supervisors are brand-new to Peace Corps so we had a session about: What is Peace Corps? What do volunteers do? Do we bring money and then peace out like many other NGOs people here are accustomed to? The answer to that last question is obviously no. So while our whole group is having a discussion about all of this, Kim, a past Cameroon volunteer who has worked for PC here for many years, stands up and explains in both French and English that fundamentally, we are ambassadors of peace. And for Americans to travel to a foreign land, be welcomed, and integrate and live in harmony with Africans in our community, that is truest form of peace there is. I don't know about anyone else in the room; but I had tears. At the end of the day, when two people, one American girl from good ol' VT and an African woman who has eight kids and knows four different local languages, can live side by side and be "in harmony" with each other; that is really what peace is all about. Right?
      
Yes, so today was the all-bro giant meeting in village. When I arrived back from Ngaoundere, Essaya and I wrote an announcement in French and posted it on the street (on a mud wall, but apparently it's an important wall or something, I don't know). We had the meeting today, Friday, directly following the afternoon prayer. The meeting was...a success? I think. It's hard to tell. I think I've been extremely spoiled with how we run meetings in the U.S. 125 men came, so that means it was a success in terms of numbers. But in terms of getting ideas across and all being on the same page, I'm not so sure that was achieved.

Itinerary for the meeting:
-Introduction of Hadidja, explain what PC is, another volunteer coming here in December for agriculture
-Map of village, what resources are here already
-List of problems/things we need here. Distinguish after between needs and wants
      
So this itinerary seems pretty straight-forward right? An hour tops for the meeting. Ya. Not so much. Ok, first of all, I'm talking in French the whole time, and that gets translated into Dii by someone. So already the intro and why I'm here takes forever. And the explanation of what PC is about could have gotten lost in translation. Is there a word for development in Dii, a language where she, he, it, and you are all one word? I'm thinking not. So then we move onto the map. Ok, so before the meeting, we had a mini-meeting with the translator and designated-drawers of the map. In retrospect, I should have explained the purpose of the map better. It is to show the people what resources are ALREADY here. It is supposed to be very simple and use symbols so that even the men who can't read will understand. But the designated drawers instead started designing a full-out map with every single road and house. I was like you've got to be joking me, but I stayed calm because I knew it was good for them to draw it and work it out. But after 45 min of map drawing, I said something about justtttt drawing the resources...and so they started the map over again. Which turned out fine, like an hour after that.
      
Ok, so the list of problems. I chose someone else from the group. Audience participation right? No. The person didn't know that we were just brainstorming a simple list (why would they? they've never done something like this before) and started writing lengthy descriptions in French of the ideas. So I ended up writing the ideas, using symbols and big simple words in French that everyone could understand. Ok, so then the list was done. Now, here was the big one. Save the best for last. I need to look into this, but I'm thinking that the words "need" and "want" are the same thing in Dii. Or have the same meaning in Fulfulde and Dii. I explained the difference between a need/want, then my translator did, then Essaya did in Fulfulde, then one other person did. So we get to first problem in village: don't have a football stadium. And all the men in the group yell out "need". Ok, so we explain all over again: a need is something that, if you don't have, you will DIE. A want is something that you seek, but it won't hurt you if you don't have it. We completed the list (kindof) and that was the end of the meeting.
      
Who am I to tell the men in my village, though, what they should need or want? If they say problems with anemia is a want (which they did, don't even get me started on that one, I had to really practice patience at that point) and a multi-media center is a need, maybe that's the truth for them. Possibly different lifestyles and upbringing yield different priorities. Or maybe the whole activity was lost in translation.
      
Another thought about wants and needs: Before I left for IST, Essaya and I chatted with the chef to ask his permission to have the men-meeting. We asked him his thoughts about the development for the village and what was needed. He said very simply: "1. health 2. water 3. fire. Without health, you cannot drink water. With fire, you make the food. Everything else is a desire." But he also meant fire like electricity. Ok. great. So, what do we really need in life? I thought about this at the health center the other day when some Fulbe kids came in for malaria medicine. These kids were 8 and 10 and had never been to a health center or seen a doctor before. They hadn't received any vaccinations and were healthy, minus malaria. I thought vaccinations went on the list of needs until I saw them. So what does go on the list? Clean air, clean water, clean food. How do "need for space" and shelter fit on the list? Do gravity and the ozone layer go on there, or are they assumed (had to, sorry, miss ya biochemistry)? When do vaccinations and medicines go on there? Is the list of needs specific to every culture or community of people? The two Fulbe children didn't neeeed vaccinations, but they did need malaria medicine in order to continue living. Or is the list separate to every single person? If I'm going to run with that arguement, then here is my list of needs:

(assuming I live on planet earth, with gravity and intact ozone layers, in the climate I'm in right now that stays between 70-120 degrees Farenheit, in the village I'm in right now where there is land for miles and miles so there is no worry about not having enough space)

1. Clean air (questionable on days when people burn trash including plastic bags, batteries, etc.)
2. Clean water (thank you filter, or pumpos that provide clean-looking forrage water :) )
Ok where is where it gets interesting. Ok, so humans, we can live for a month without food, right? How long can we live if the water we drink has bad stuff in it? If I drink bacteria-infested water, will I need antibiotics before food to stay alive to hit the one-month mark when food is absolutely necessary?
3. Antibiotics and other basic medicines (so not vaccines).
4. Food (if I'm going to be picky, I'm going to ask for a balanced diet rich in iron, vitamins and minerals, but this is a need so I'm going to be very broad and not even put cleannnn food).
5. What goes here? Vaccinations? If I hadn't had the typhoid vaccine before arriving here, I would definetly have contracted that thus far. So should I prioritize vaccinations?
....so, as you can tell, this list of "needs" or the things that are obligatory for life here on planet earth is very difficult to make. How can I ask a group of people to clarify their needs versus wants...if I can't even do so for myself?

Good News
puppy. puppy. puppy.
Bad News
Abdou, my little best friend, is in Ngaoundere visiting his mother for awhile. I miss him. I told his fam the only way I know how to express my feelings in French: that I'm going to die if he doesn't come back.

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.