Renewed.

I am been working on this one blog post for a while venting about the "NGO" effect. I was going to talk about how much aid work has spoiled things here. I was going to go into depth about how the "white man" has turned the culture into a "donnez-moi," or give me, culture. I had that blog post all ready to go; then something happened. I erased that post this week.

Last Friday I started feeling sick. I didn't think much of it. When Saturday came and I was laying on my porch curled in a ball wearing a jacket, scarf, pants and socks; keep in mind it was about 100 degrees out. I was supposed to have a training on how to make soy milk that day with a new group. Everything was already prepared for the training. I called my friend and told her that she would have to do that training alone because I was too sick to go. She immediately came to my house, saw me, apologized and said that I needed to go because she was not confident that she could do the training without me.

Feeling guilty and not wanting to let the women down, I reluctantly went to the meeting. In typical African fashion, everyone showed up an hour and a half late. While I was waiting the president of the group gave me a pillow and blanket and made a bed for me on the couch. When the training was done, 3 hours later, and I was packing up my things, the president asked me how much I paid for the soy beans. I told her 500 cfa, $1, which was less that I actually paid. She then proceeded to give me 5,000 cfa, $10. When I refused, she wouldn't let me leave her house. She told me that the women all gave a little bit because they knew I was sick and should go to the hospital. They said the money was to pay to see a doctor and for the medicine that I would need.

Sometimes people offer to pay for my transportation to meetings; I don't expect that. Sometimes people feed me at meetings; I don't expect that either. Sometimes with new groups people ask me what I will be giving them; I always expect that.

Today I had another meeting with the group to make tofu. The president made the soy milk before I got there in preparation for the meeting. We had a wonderful time making the tofu, cooking it and eating it. As I was packing up the president came up to me and gave me money for my transportation, 300 cfa, 60 cents. Once again she wouldn't let me refuse. Then it started to rain a little bit; she went inside and gave me her umbrella.

I had this negative blog post all ready and this past week working with this group gave me a renewed sense of hope. Not everyone wants my money. The group definitely did not need to give me anything; telling me thank you is enough - more than enough.

Turns out that I had mild malaria. They were right; I was sick and I did need to go to the hospital. Happy to report that I am back to normal, there will be tofu in Meiganga, and I am grateful for my new friends! But this experience was a necessary reminder to hold onto the good that happens and cherish that. There will always be the negative, but when you are least expecting something unexpected happens. Cliche, but so true!

Next week we are going to be making lotion!

International Women's Day!

Why don't we celebrate Women's Day in the states? We should! I am changing this for when I get back. Start planning everyone...March 8, 2014 at my house where ever I am! But note...men will be doing the cooking for all of the women in attendance in order to keep with the spirit of the holiday :)

So here is the lowdown on this holiday...this is a holiday for women! Surprise, surprise.  The men are supposed to take care of the kids and the household chores while the women go and celebrate. This year there was a round table discussion with all of the really important people in Meiganga about ending violence towards women: rape, domestic abuse, young marriage, ect. The most ironic part of this is that the Minister for Women's Affairs is a male; sometimes things are just confusing here. There were sporting events, soccer and handball, and a cultural festival where women did traditional dancing, lip singing, skits and poems. My favorite act of the night was when Fanta, my community host, stuffed her shirt and pants with pillows to make her look fat, then proceeded to dance around, acting drunk and falling down making fun of the military. She even was saluting the military officials who were seated right in front of her! 

On the actual day, there is a parade. I marched with Centre Socio, a technical school for girls who learn sewing skills. I have been helping teach health classes there during my entire service. We all wore the same outfit in either blue and pink. (Fanta even made a similar model as me because this was my last Women's Day in Cameroon) After the march, Fanta, a few other friends and I went out and celebrated until 11pm. Someone even gave me 500 CFA because I was dancing the Pingus, a tradition dance that I will glad show everyone when I get home, so well!

Overall it was a wonderful week! Enjoy the pictures from this year and start preparing for next year; this time stateside! 

The teachers and I in front of Centre Socio. This year I marched with the school I have been helping teach health classes throughout my service

One of the highlights from all of my service...marching with a drag queen!!!

Centre Socio girls, drag queen and me after marching.

Fanta to my right is who I danced the whole day and night with! Her and her husband are my closest friends in Meiganga!

Too Soon

Do you remember my blog post entitled: Gbaya Funeral? I have heard the cries of funerals before living in Meiganga. I have heard the screams; the tearful singing; the whaling. I've heard it before, but I did not understand it; until March 6^th. That Wednesday afternoon I got a phone call from one of my scholarship girl’s mom telling me that Louise had just passed away. I went as quickly as possible to the house to be with the family. This time I understood the crying. I was fighting my tears the entire motorcycle ride there. I ran into the house crying; whaling. This was someone I have worked with for my entire service through the Centre Socio classes and A2Empowerment scholarship.  As I was running to find a motorcycle to get to the house a friend stopped me and asked me what was wrong. I responded, “My daughter has died.”

Rewind two weeks before Louise’s passing. I got a phone call from her mom telling me that her daughter was sick and was going to die. She needed help quick. I went to the house casually not knowing what to expect. I remember thinking that it couldn’t be that bad; people are sick all the time; it couldn’t be that bad. Well it was that bad. I brought over a doctor friend the next day to see Louise thinking that maybe he could do something the hospital couldn’t. I overheard just a little bit of the conversation. TB and AIDS is a deadly combo and that’s what she had. It all made sense right then; the gradual weight loss, why she was sick all the time, why no one actually said what she had. You see, where I live if you have HIV/AIDS it is almost like you are a leopard. There are no support groups, you are shunned, and you are basically alone. (But statically you are not alone because my health center area has the highest HIV rate for all of Cameroon and my region has an HIV rate of 17% of sexually active people. There are even some neighborhoods in the bush that are thought to have an 80% HIV rate.) As the doctor and I left the house I touched Louise’s leg to say goodbye. She had lost almost all of her weight. I felt both of her bones.

The next day, her mom took her to the hospital. In Cameroon both TB and HIV medicine are “free.” (I am using quotes because they are not actually free, it’s just what NGOs like to say to make themselves feel better and get more people to donate to their cause…but that is another topic) Had her mother taken Louise to the hospital when she started to show TB systems we might not have had to burry our friend so young.

She was 20 years old. She was a mother of a 7 month old son. She was a daughter. She was a sister, youngest of 14. She was a friend. She was intelligent, loving, dance machine; just an overall sweet 20 year old girl.

I now understand the tears, the crying, and the whaling. I might not have understood the exact words that the women were singing, but I understood the meaning. She was my daughter.

I have been debating sharing this story. You are just reading a portion of it. It is worse. But unfortunately this is the reality. There are many stories just like hers. It is all too common. And it is all too tragic.

Emma, Louise, her mom, son and me at our A2Empowerment opening ceremony.

Please pray, send positive vibes, good wishes; whatever you choose to do to Louise’s family. Please pray for her son who is severely malnourished, he is 7 months old but you could easily confuse him for a 2 month old. Please pray for her mom, she has already lost 4 kids that I know of. Please pray for her friends. And please pray for the other Louises in Meiganga, inCameroon and in the world; there are far too many of them.

This Little Piggie....

Amongst so many differences here I find it comforting to see the similarities; albeit small, they are similarities nonetheless. Sometimes it is a church hymn that I recognize being sung in Gbaya or French other times its that Fufu (balls of corn meal that is eaten with every meal) is very similar to polenta. Grandma and Grandpa Zanrosso would love it!

Yesterday was no exception. I was singing to Dieudonne, "This Little Piggie went to the market, this little piggie went to the zoo, this little piggie had roast beef and this little piggie has none. And this little piggie cried ALL THE WAY HOME!!!" As I ended the song with tickling Dieudonne, he couldn't stop laughing. His mom, my landlord's wife, looked at me and started singing a similar song in Gbaya, a local language.

I smiled hearing the song in Gbaya. Although I had no idea what exactly she was singing, it was something that I knew.

Tradition Life: Jujus Part II

If you haven't gotten a chance to check out my blog post from last years Ngonso Festival in Kumbo, Northwest you should: Traditional Life: Jujus. This year I was able to attend again and got much better pictures than before! It has interesting afterwards being back in Meiganga and explaining what I saw. My landlord told me that out in the bush there is something like that, but no one else has confirmed this. My goal is to dress Eneta up as a baby juju!

BABY JUJUS!!!!!

Christmas...Cameroonian Style

This Christmas I decided that I was going to spend it in Meiganga with my friends versus in Ngaoundere, regional capital, with other Peace Corps Volunteers. I am glad I did because this was honestly one of the better Christmases I have had.

It started a week before Christmas. There were kids throughout the week going house to house caroling. Before I knew what was going on, around 7pm a group of 20 kids come into our compound. I got scared, ran inside and closed my door. Then I realized that they were singing “Jingle Bells” to my landlord's family in Gbaya; so I opened my door to watch. After they were done they all came to my house. One kid in the back yelled, “She doesn't know Gbaya! Sing in French!” So I got the French version of “Jingle Bells.” They were dancing, using water jugs as drums, and having a great time!

I realized on the 25^th that Christmas in Cameroon is like our Thanksgiving. It is a time to be with family, have fun and EAT! And boy did I do that! The day before the boys helped me make monkey bread and cinnamon rolls which is a tradition in the Nicolai household. Then we made lots and lots of chocolate cupcakes! Christmas night I gave a bag of goodies to Mrs. Doko to set out for the kids. I was told Papa Noel was dead, so I wanted to prove them wrong! In the morning, it took the boys over an hour to realize that there were presents on the table. After they all came to my house to say thank you, but I explained that it was Papa Noel. They all just smiled and their parents laughed.

I got up earlier than normal to bake the monkey bread and cinnamon rolls. I wanted them to be ready for us to enjoy before everyone left for church. When they came back home from church we started eating again and we ate until the sun went down. Where I live kids are given one big plate of food outside; they all sit around it and eat together using their hands. Well its not just the kids, its families as well, but on holidays adults use separate plates. So I started eatting at the Doko's then went to Fanta and Bourdier's house afterward. (Fanta and Bourdier are my close friends in Meiganga.) They were doing renovations to their house so they moved all the couches outside and that’s where we ate. Once I was done there, I went back to my house to eat some more. Throughout the day everyone kept giving me red wine to drink starting at 10am. I needed a break before I had dinner, so I was able to fit in a little nap in between.

I ended the night with Mr. Doko, Fanta and Bourdier at the bar discussing life, funny stories, differences in Christmas in the states. This Christmas made me realize how much I love and cherish who I am surrounded by in Meiganga. There were no presents exchanged, no one was expecting anything. It was a refreshing reminder of what Christmas should be; being with friends and family.

Eneta and I

Kids eating outside

Eating on the couches at Fanta and Bourdier's

Popcorn

This is a silly blog post, but I realized the other day how often I actually eat popcorn! At one point during my year and a half at post there were no kernals to be found in Meiganga. I freaked out. I called my postmate and told him that there was an emergency in Meiganga. When I explained the situation, he hung up the phone. He didn't understands.

But let me share with you all of the fixings that I love on my popcorn:

• salt
• pepper
• Lawry's Seasoning Salt
• Cajun seasoning
• curry
• cumin
• garlic powder
• garlic salt
• parmesan cheese
• yeast (to taste like parmesan cheese)
• powdered milk (once again to taste like parmesan cheese)
• cinnamon
• sugar
• butter

Currently as I am sitting on my couch writing this blog post, popcorn is popping on the stove and Baby Dieudonne keeps saying my name outside! So I am off to go share with him one of my favorite foods!