A Guest blogger too!

First one is mine...second is my lovely guest blogger Kim

Hello! Sad news to start: my postmate's computer died, so after this one (I'm using another volunteer's laptop) my posts may be far less eloquent…since they are oh so eloquent now! :>) Since I last wrote I've been staying busy, in relative terms. I've planted some more soy with the women's group in my village and given them a presentation about it, and then also planted with a man that lives close to me. The second day I was out planting soy with the women's group we had to clear the land of tons and tons of really tall brush and random other fallen branches, etc… This was fine, and kinda fun, just whacking at things with a little hoe and ripping roots out of the ground and throwing them on a pile. After that we started to plant, which includes taking said small hoe and tilling up the soil. Somewhere within these two actions millions and millions (I would like to say I'm exaggerating…but seriously A LOT) of tiny little flies were disrupted from their in-ground homes and were not pleased. We got ATTACKED! Since the only parts of my body exposed were my hands and face…there was some serious biting going on in these areas. All the other women got really bitten up in the same spots, but…leave it to white skin to be the skin that puffs up and gets all red, and also, leave it to me and my insect loving skin to be bitten in places like my EYELID?! I took a picture of myself as proof…I looked like I got into some intense fight and didn't come out on top. I took myself some Benadryl and passed out for 2 hours before presenting myself to the general public (aka walking outside my house) for commentary on my weak skin. Other than that I attempted to hold a meeting at Mefoup to give our soy presentation, south of here. It was pretty disappointing since we spent a good deal of time in transit (painful transit) and arrived to be informed that everyone had thought the meeting was in the morning. For our efforts (and pains) the 85 year old man whose house we use as our meeting place regaled us with a song about his generation, his wife gave us a live chicken to kill and eat at our leisure, and we got to meander around the village being yelled at by various people for being white! I always find the trip to and from Mefoup one of the most interesting. In order to leave from Ebolowa you have to go to the southernmost point of town to find a car. Finding a car includes standing there, having half the city scream things at you, mottos pretend to run into you, never understanding what's going on, and then finally just getting into a car with 7 other people and off you go! Most recently some guy kept trying to grab my arm and my bag to throw into the car…in order to fend him off I spun around and yelled "If you touch me one more time, I am going to hit you VERY HARD!" and then smiled sweetly…in response he took up some posture straight out of a karate movie and burst out laughing at me…but then went away! So hey…it worked out! The depot for cars (if you can call it that, it's kinda just a big muddy parking lot) always has a surplus of bush meat available. The past few times I've seen a couple of pretty big dead monkeys and an enormous snake for sale. I asked about the monkeys and sadly at 8,500 CFA (like 20 dollars) I couldn't afford it. I need to take a picture of this, I would have found it incredibly sad and disturbing prior to my life here…as I'm sure most of you back home would, and it's interesting how this has just become something normal… Other work things…I went to a party at FONJAK (the organization I really want to work with) and almost had the opportunity to go with them to Campo Ma'an…the national park in the south. Sadly I couldn't because of safety reasons (and since they got into a car accident on this same trip I guess it was a good thing?!) But hopefully at the end of this week I'll be able to work with them since I'll be going up there again. Lastly work wise, we had our provincial meeting in Ebolowa last weekend. Most of the volunteers from the South came here, there ended up being 7 of us total (2 were missing) and we just talked about what we've been doing so far, possible collaborations we want to do together, and then went out in white people force to the nightclub and danced in an impenetrable white people pack. It was a lovely time! :>)

Around the neighborhood it's been pretty good. In the weeks since last returning from Yaounde, I had to laugh at how many people told me things like "where have you been, I thought you went back to America" or "why didn't you come say goodbye to me if you were leaving for so long" or "I heard you were in Bamenda, how was the weather?'…and it wasn't just my neighbors or people who this could possibly be seen as a normal thing to ask. People like the lady who sells me tomatoes at the market, the man who works at the post office, the man who works in the bank, the guy down the street I talked to once in my life…News spreads quick around here! But I guess it is good people would notice if I just disappeared! I've been spending lots of time with the neighbor kids as usual. We spend one afternoon cutting up old plastic bags and making a jump rope out of them, which I tried to explain as "recycling"…but I'm not sure if the term made much sense. Also, they now use the jump rope for other things, like tying it around their heads and then tying themselves together and then running in circles around my house?! Hey…at least it's being used?! :>) My landlady kept coming over and yelling at me that the water was running and I'd keep telling her it wasn't (the fact that it's was not coming out of the tap led me to this revelation which she would not accept even when I showed her!) so we went and found the plumber and sure enough, now there it a hole in the pipe way down the road that needs to be fixed. I harassed the plumber into coming over and finally attaching my sink to the wall (it's been sitting on the floor for months) and he told me he would only come do it for me because I don't have any money, but not for my landlady, because "she is rich". I didn't understand the logic, so I agreed as usual, and then…he didn't show up! So the water situation remains as it apparently always will be! BUT the furniture situation has drastically improved! I am now the proud owner of 4 chairs, a coffee table and a small couch made out of raffia (it's kinda like wicker furniture)!!! I've been enjoying sitting off the floor as of late! Something exciting, one of my friends has started to sell food during lunch time right across the street…I can get ½ of a small fish and a bunch of rice for 100 CFA…which is like 20 cents!!! VERY exciting! Other exciting news: apparently my chief is a sorcerer and kills people. This is what the children have been telling me. And since when Peace Corps staff visited me we had to go talk to the chief, the chief now greets me when I see him on the street and everyone exchanges glances and casts shameful stares at me! Lastly in the house I came upon a lizard in my kitchen above the door treating it like a bathroom…excreting from his lofty perch onto my counters and floor. So what did I do except…video tape it…oh it's a great film!

And…last bit of random news…I met the American missionary couple whom live in town, they invited my postmate and I over to have dinner and watch some movies. I could not believe the things they own (I will make a small list for you): tile floors, oven, refrigerator AND freezer, hot water heater, microwave (first one I've seen in Cameroon), TV, DVD player, real mattress, CAR…it was insane, paradise on earth. We ate cheese and lettuce, drank diet soda, had cake…AMAZING…but it felt very foreign! It kinda scares me to think if all that already felt so out of the norm how coming back to the states will feel where those things are commonplace…but it also made me feel like I was more "integrated" into the lifestyle here, since I've been feeling like it's all too cushy most of the time for me anyways…
Alright…this has been a very very random assortment of news, but thus is life! Thanks for reading!

GUEST BLOGGER!!!

Out of Context

This place is weird. Or maybe it's not. Maybe I'm the weirdo. Who knows? Regardless, the following are some scenes from my life here. In the context of America they are ridiculous. Here, it's called Tuesday.

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Dining Out. The other morning I went to an omelet shack with Kate, another volunteer who lives just outside of Ebolowa, our provincial capital. She's from Wisconsin, by the way. This becomes obvious immediately after talking to her, even when she's not wearing her giant cheese-head hat. Anyway, omelet shacks. Kate and I went to Jackson's (full name: Chez Jackson's International Club—ha! Jealous?) because he makes the best spaghetti omelets in town. We each placed our order—une oeuf spaghetti, si vous plait—but Jackson's new omelet intern told us he was out of spaghetti. Now in America, this would have been crushing news. Or actually, in America this probably wouldn't have happened, because in America they worry about pesky little things like 'customer service' and generally order enough supplies to see themselves through the day. But whatever. I am not bitter, because I may not be in America, but Cameroon is not without its culinary advantages. Certainly in America you are not allowed to say 'Mais la femme là-bas a le spaghetti. Il faut lui demander'. And certainly in America the omelet intern would not then go over to the lady next door and, USING HIS HANDS, take some of her spaghetti for us. Mmm, spaghetti omelets. You people don't even know the value. (Grandmaster Flash, that was for you. Hi!)

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Working Relationships. After a pleasant brunch, Kate and I headed out to Mefoup, one of the villages outside of Ebolowa. (I like to think of them as suburbs because it's hilarious but probably only to me because I live here but trust me—comic GOLD) We were supposed to give a presentation to a group of farmers on the magical properties of soy. Kate talks about the advantages for the soil and I talk about the nutritional benefits. For example, did you know that one kilo of soy has the same amount of protein as three kilo's of beef? C'est incroyable, n'est pas? And let me tell you, harvesting soy is a lot less messy than butchering a cow. Although I'm sorry, I personally can't get behind soymilk. Drinking beans freaks me out. I try not to judge others though. Where I come from that will get you kicked right out of the coffee house. Oh dear, it's seems I have digressed. I'll be honest—I can be a bit of a digresser as a rule. I apologize. Soy! Farmers! So we went, at 14:00, because that's when Kate had set up the meeting for. Only when we got there, there was just one old woman on the porch. Because for some reason all the farmers thought we were going to be there in the morning, not in the afternoon. So they had all left hours ago. A disappointment, but truthfully—not an entirely unexpected one here in the Dirty South. Meetings rarely go as planned. But that is not the point of this rambling, practically incoherent story. The point of the story is this—we left that house with a live chicken in a bag! The woman had planned on preparing the chicken for the meeting, but since we so rudely showed up four hours late, she just kept it and gave it to us. Fan-fricking-tastic. I never received live poultry after meetings at my old job. One time I got this cute little notebook and pen set, but that was a total fluke.

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Getting Rides. (Side note to all parents, and other people who are generally inclined towards worry—none of what follows is considered weird here, or dangerous. It is not hitchhiking, which I would never do because I've seen those movies and I know what happens to girls to hitchhike, the hussies. It is simply a system of transportation that involves flagging down random vehicles in order to convey oneself from one location to another. OK?) We took a cab out to Mefoup (and by cab I mean one of the seemingly endless supply of Toyotas held together with wire and hope) so we needed to flag down another cab to get us back. Only there didn't seem to be a lot of cabs going by, so we started walking in the direction of Ebolowa. Only it was the middle of the afternoon so it was REALLY FREAKING HOT. No worries. We'll just walk up to a complete stranger’s house and ask to sit on their (mercifully shaded) porch for a bit. AND THIS WILL BE CONSIDERED PERFECTLY NORMAL. It will also be considered perfectly normal for two old women to come out of the house and stare at us. And I mean STARE. Hello! We are just a couple of zany American girls trying to stay out of the sun! Thank you for letting us sit on your porch, and no, we don't mind at all if you stare at us in a what might be considered a maniacal manner without blinking for five minutes straight! Would you like to look at the live chicken we've got in this bag? At first, whenever we would hear a car approaching Hans (Kate's co-worker—he often comes with us to translate our presentations into Bulu) would run out to the road and try to flag it down. Four cars passed him without stopping. So I tried. Four more cars passed! Of all the nerve! I mean honestly, sometimes when I'm just walking down the road cars will pull up alongside me randomly and try to convince me to get in. (Because in addition to being white, I also apparently appear both easy and stupid.) But now, in our moment of need, I can't get a car to save my life. Clearly, this was a job for a blond. Sure enough, Kate was able to get a car to stop—although I was gratified that two passed her before one finally pulled over. The chicken in the bag went into the trunk (and by 'trunk' I mean the space under the hatchback door that didn't latch) and we climbed into the car. Which at this point already held four other people. We drove about 50 feet, and then pulled over to pick up an old man and his 3 large bags of plantains. So now there were eight people, three bags of plantains, and one bag of (live) chicken in the car. Perhaps I've misled you into thinking we were in a station wagon with my mention of the hatchback. No, we were in something that resembled a Geo. Four people in the back, four people in the front. In Cameroon, not even the driver gets his own seat. And all the cars at stick-shifts. Ha-zing! I probably don't need to mention that perceptions of personal space are a little different here. Mostly because the concept of personal space doesn't exist. Bon voyage!

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Lying. I lie to people constantly, and for a variety of reasons. Sometimes it’s because a strange man is hitting on me and I think it prudent to mention that I already have two husbands, and that my father requires at least 15 goats for my dowry. Sometimes its because I don't know how to say whatever it is that I actually want to say, so I just say something else. Something completely different and also maybe completely untrue but also more easily expressed in French. For instance, I might say that in America men do all the laundry and cooking. Technically, perhaps, this is not true. But it's easier than explaining that in the States gender roles are quite blurred due to the dramatic social changes that took place in the 70s and 80s and as a result domestic chores are distributed based on a complex and continuous process of discussion and experimentation throughout the lifetime of any relationship. Also it blows their minds when I say it, and that is kind of fun. And finally, sometimes I end up lying completely by accident, because of my habit of just saying 'oui' whenever I don't understand what is being said to me. I'm pretty sure I've told a number of people that they could come to my house for dinner, and not once did I actually mean it. It's possible I've also accepted a number of marriage proposals, but even with the abundance of rock-hard abs in this country, I don't actually plan on walking down the aisle with anyone. At least not at this point in time.

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