An Ending and a New Beginning

I have been subconsciously avoiding writing this blog post. I am reminded daily by all different things, often times at random, about my time in Cameroon. Yesterday I found a bag of my favorite coffee grounds that I purchased in Cameroon. I had been saving them and they wound up getting lost in the shuffle of moving around so many times. I savored that glorious cup of coffee that reminded me of so much. I was known by my neighbors as the coffee drinker. Each morning when I woke, I would greet everyone with a warm cup of coffee in my hand. If I did not have that cup of coffee in my hands, they would send me back into my house and wait to greet me until I had it. Its funny how something so simple can remind you of so much.

Coffee these days is easier. Boiling the water is easier.  I get my water from the tap; no waiting for the water to filter. I have an electric tea kettle; no wondering if the gas for my stove is out. Cleaning my French press is easier; I just pop that sucker into the dish washer.

Something that I have noticed since being back is although things in the States may be easier at times, I miss the mundane tasks. Yes, there are so many more vegetables that I can have all the time, but I truly miss the excitement that overcame everyone in village when the seasonal items came into season. Grocery shopping in the states is easy, but is it enjoyable? It is not a community event, no one says hello to me as I pass them. At the time I HATED not having water for long stretches of time, but now I miss how getting water was such an event. It allowed me to hang out with my landlord’s kids. It was a work out.

Now to the present moment. A lot has changed since I left Cameroon on July 20, 2013. I traveled for 6 weeks with my boyfriend, another Peace Corps volunteer that I met in training and we have been together ever since, to Dubai, Thailand, Cambodia and Laos. Throughout the trip we would look at each other in awe and say, “These roads are so much nicer than in Cameroon!” or “How are there so many 7-11s and ATMs? This country is SO developed!” The trip was a great way to transition back to the states. It was interesting to see so many similarities amongst the differences.

After traveling around Southeast Asia, I moved back home. I was there for about 6 weeks. It was an odd period. It felt like I was on vacation; that I would be returning to Cameroon at any moment. I got to see most of my friends, attend a few weddings, eat all of the fruits and vegetables that I could possibly handle, and sleep on an American mattress! 

In the beginning of October I moved out to DC to be with Christian. It has been a whirlwind since then. The New Year has come and gone. At one point I was working 4 jobs just to make ends meet. I thought that moving to DC would be easier than it actually was. Finding a job has been extremely difficult; I underestimated how hard it actually would be. But now, I feel like things are starting to come together. I have a temporary job, I am also working at a restaurant, I have a direction and short-term goals. When I first got back to the states, even thinking a week ahead made me go into a panic – so this is an improvement.

Do I miss Cameroon? Absolutely, I will always miss Cameroon. It was my home for over 2 years. My friends who became my family are still there. I talk to them often and I cannot wait for the day that I can go back. I am reminded daily of my time in Cameroon. I am beyond grateful for my experience, the people I met, and the work that we did together.

It has been fun reading my old blog posts and remembering stories that I wrote about. I am not sure if I will write here again – I am not sure what I would write about. My life in Cameroon was much more interesting than my life now. 

As I continue on I am reminded that my last chapter will never actually be closed; this experience has changed everything about me – so it will be forever with me.

Dear Meiganga,

This is my letter to you. Thank you for these wonderful 2 years. They have come and gone, far too fast. Thank you for changing me; you have taught me patience, how to laugh loud, dance with no inhibitions, be a better friend and live in the moment. You introduced me to some of my closest friends; I am having a hard time even imagining not being able to go to Hadidja and Fanta's houses. You allowed me join a wonderful family. I am their only daughter; I am a Doko, a Gbaya at heart.

Thank you for everything; the good times, the bad times, the tears, the laughs, the bad dance moves, the music, the food, the good company. My words are not sufficient enough to express my gratitude.

Until we meet again,
Danielle

Here are some pictures of my last week in Meiganga:

One of my students made me a house as a going away present; it was pretty impressive! And another friend hand dyed the fabric I am wearing.

My bestfriend, Hadidja, and I in her living room. This is one of my favorite pictures! She was doing naylee on my feet.

Dieudonne and Mowgli are going to miss me. As I was packing up my house they would be at my door together.

At my going away party I gave a speech to say thank you to my friends.

All of the food at my party!

Thank you to everyone who came out to show their support. I am going to miss my Meiganga family!

This is Fanta, my community host. She was my first friend in Meiganga. She is my mom here and I am going to miss her more than I can even imagine.

This was at my last dinner at Hadidja's house. Muslim women cover themselves like this here. I LOVE all of the color that they wear. Look at her beautiful smile...she is amazing.

Haididja knew Mexican food was my favorite food and she prepared a Mexican feast for us!

Almost Done :(

I did not think I would make it to this point. When I first started on this journey, I bawled all the way from my house to Philadelphia. I was excited, scared, and a whole list of other emotions. 27 months seemed like an eternity; but now that my time is almost finished I am wishing that I had a few more months. I have a feeling that I am going to be bawling all the way home.

What are my last few weeks going to be like? I am planning on eating as much Cameroonian food as possible, drinking 'Castels,' enjoying the company of my friends here, and finishing up work. I will actually leave Cameroon July 20th to start my next big adventure.

Whats life going to be like after Peace Corps? Christian and I are traveling together for 5 weeks through Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam. I will come home August 25th. Then I will figure out my next move from there. I am planning on moving to DC by October; just need to find a job first! Wish me luck!!

I am going to miss it here. The people, the food, my work. I will continue to keep you all posted in my last few weeks and with my trip. I am looking forward to seeing you all when I get back.

Bouba and our moto driver tying up the goat I purchased for my going away party.

I got a puppy for my landlord's family. His name is Mowgli and Dieudonne loves picking him up and handing him to me. We are working on not throwing or kicking Mowgli.

TOFU!!! TOFU!!! TOFU!!!

In the states I was afraid of tofu. I thought that it was a food that only hippies ate. It looked freaky; no color. It sounded freaky; takes on the taste of whatever you cook it in. I never even had soy milk before I came to Cameroon! Seeing as I joined the "Hippie Army" I figured that I needed to try it out! My first time drinking soy milk and eating tofu was when I made it with Samantha, another PCV. Since then I have been hooked. I have made it before in my house and once with a small group, but never in a formal training setting. I couldn't stop talking about the nutritional benefits to everyone I met.

Last month I saw a friend, Bouba, in town and we sat and started talking. Bouba's friend asked me what is something that I wish I could have done in Meiganga but I just haven't done yet. I responded, "TOFU!!!" I explained the nutritional benefits of it and Bouba and Hamman were sold! That day we planned out a training for 28 community members on how to make soy milk and tofu.

Malnutrition is a huge issue where I live. People grow soy beans, but just do not know how important and beneficial they are. 

1 kilo of soy beans cost 500 cfa or about $1. There is the same amount of protein in 1 kilo of soy beans as 3 kilos of beef (7200 cfa or $14.50), 13 liters of milk (2000 cfa or $4) AND 60 eggs (4500 cfa or $9). That is a 13,200 cfa or $26.50 savings!!! 

Samantha McLean, a health volunteer about 17km away, came to talk about the health benefits of soy beans. We also covered hand washing! Before anyone came to volunteer with cooking they had to go wash their hands. It made for good practice!

Overall the training went extremely well. We had a few hiccups along the way, like having no chairs and not enough space for the training. But we got chairs and held the training outside. We drank soy milk, ate tofu kebabs, and prepared the tofu like ground meat. People asked thoughtful questions and were eager to participate. It has been about a little over a week since the training and I already have people stopping me in market saying they have made it!

We ended the training by saying we are community agents. We have to share this information with our neighbors. We are members of the Meiganga Community! With this information, hopefully, malnutrition will reduce.

Next Step: I am doing a follow up meeting on June 15th to make soap with the group members. This will be my last training in Meiganga. My official close of service date is July 19th. Where have these 2 years gone??

Samantha teaching a section on the nutritional benefits of soy!

We mixed the tofu with green peppers, tomatoes, garlic and onions. 

Checking to see if the tofu was ready. We had a problem that not enough water was draining out.

Me cutting up the tofu.

Bouba enjoying his tofu kebab! 

 

All of the trainees showing off their certificates!

The rock star trainers. None of this would be possible without them! 

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!

Monumental Day!!!

Today was a monumental in many respects. Maybe monumental is an exaggeration, but it was a pretty awesome day nonetheless. If you remember my blog post, Resilience Training, we have come a long way since last year. Today after 12 months of saving, we gave back the money!!! Let me repeat this so you understand the reason for my excitement: after meeting every week and each member saving about 200 CFA, about 40 cents which is HUGE for these women, we “broke the box” or divided up the savings! The savings ranged anywhere from 47000 CFA, $94, to 8000 CFA, $16. When I handed out the money to each member, said their names, and shook their hands everyone was cheering and the cheering did not stop at the 20^th person! We celebrated afterwards with a warm liter of Fanta, which was a wonderful treat.

Sidione, the translator, is a dear friend of mine; she was a life saver. She came in without knowing anyone in the group very well, not knowing what exactly the group did and she came every week to be the secretary! But the most wonderful thing about her is seeing how two groups of people who normally do not get along so well not only work together, but laugh and cry together. Let me explain, Sidione is Gbaya, or Christian, and the group members are Emborro, or Muslim. Generally different tribes to not mix. They live in different parts of town; they do not respect each other; they do not work with each other; they just tolerate each other. But this group is working together!

This is my most rewarding work, not because I actually do a ton with them, but because I am able to see how far they have come and knowing how far they will go. We have been through a lot together this year; the death of Moustapha, finding a new translator, the frustration of me struggling with French let alone speaking Fulfulde; but here we are now. January 8^th we will be starting our 3rd cycle, or 3rd year of saving. They decided today that they all would set aside 1000 CFA, $2, for the start of next year so that can be prepared for any unexpected costs, sicknesses or deaths, that might occur. We are able to see the impact of Claire's, the Peace Corps Volunteer whom I replaced, and my work; they are planning head and saving on their own. That is precisely why it is the most rewarding work, because I can see the change! 

Today was a great day, my friends; what a wonderful day it was.

Season of Thanksgiving

There is a lot to be thankful this year. And going with this season of Thanksgiving I want to share with you what I am thankful for this year.

I am thankful for Meiganga. My compound. My 7 little brothers and their parents which are mine too. I am thankful for the security that living in a compound brings. I can sleep well at night knowing that there are always 9 other people living with me. I am thankful for work. My 3 savings groups; 1 in Dana (17 km from Meiganga) which will start saving in January whose group name means in Gbaya: 'Working for tomorrow.' My group in Meidougou  is about to finish their 2nd year of saving and finally my group at Centre Socio, an alternative school for girls who learn how to be tailors. I am thankful that the technical high school in Meiganga now has access to a world map that 4 students, a teacher and myself worked tirelessly on for a month. 

I am thankful for my Peace Corps support system. I am grateful that I was able to host Thanksgiving at my house for not only volunteers but my Cameroonian neighbors as well. I am thankful that we had food on the table that tasted like Thanksgiving. I am thankful that I wasn't homesick. How could I be? 10 PCVs and 7 Cameroonians sharing a Thanksgiving meal in my living room. I am thankful for how cheap beers are in Cameroon and that kids will just dance even if there is no music.

I am thankful for my family back home who I get to speak to every Sunday afternoon. I am thankful for my dad's health, my mom's positivity when I have an awful day and my sister who is planning her trip to Cameroon with Ben. I am thankful for being able to celebrate James and Jill's wedding in August and dancing the night away with the Nicolai clan. I am thankful for my new cousin in the Zanrosso clan and being able to catch up while I was home.

I have been blessed beyond measure. Some years I would struggle to say at the dinner table what I was thankful for, but this year the list doesn't stop. Never before have I have been completely comfortable in my skin and content with where I am in my life...so that is what I am most thankful for.

Thanksgiving evening filled with laughter, great food, great company and lots of dancing!

Local Computer Training Center

Meiganga has been my home now for 14 months now. It is a wonderful place to live and work. I am asking now for my friends and family back home to have a direct impact on my home away from home. My postmates, Andrew, Emma and now Charla, have been working on creating a Computer Training Center in Meiganga for over a year now. This project is intended to create a computer training school open to the community. The profits from inscription fees would go towards updating and expanding the capacity of the school as well as, in the future, paying professionals for their time spent teaching. The computer training is intended to increase the technical competency in our village and the surrounding areas, allowing community members to better utilize and understand information technology on various levels. 

This center already has people lined up to use it! If this project is funded, Charla and I will be hosting a 3 day computer camp at this training center for our A2Empowerment scholarship girls. Check out the link on the bottom of this blog. Any donations would be greatly appreciated. If you are able to pass this link along the community of Meiganga would be forever grateful. 

Thank you! Merci! Oseuko jur! 


https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=694-212

Different

When I had my first interview for the Peace Corps, I remember thinking when hearing about the lack of privacy I should expect that it couldn't possibly be true. How is it acceptable to have kids just look at you through your windows and stare? Or if they are even more annoying yell your name constantly until you respond or they get tired; the latter of the two is normally it.

I feel bad for celebrities and zoo animals because that is my life. People gawking at you all day or if they get enough courage actually coming up to say hello. The worst is when people touch my hair or stroke my arm. Its weird, but in an even weirder way I understand. I look different; I dress different; I act different. 

Some days it gets to me more than others. It doesn't bother me when I get invited into a "hair salon" and the hair dresser just wants to touch my hair or when little kids exam my hands and are puzzled by the freckles. I am still not a fan of kids staring at me through the windows though. 

I was traveling back to Meiganga and my car stopped to pick up passengers in this small town in the middle of nowhere Cameroon. It was market day there which happens once a week. As soon as I get out of the car to stretch my legs, almost instantly a group of 15 young boys crowds around me. They sat staring at me with their jaws dropped saying nothing; no hellos, just stares.

As I am writing this and reflecting on my first Peace Corps interview I am laughing inside. I now understand what it means to have no privacy, people searching through your trash to find what the white has thrown away, or having a group of kids join you on your run. 

On va faire comment? What are you going to do about it? 

Happy Tuesday!

I am just going to go out and say it...my parents are too darn cute! Look at them in the traditional outfits that my friends had made for them!

Adjusting back

I have been back in Cameroon for a little over 2 weeks now. I was welcomed back into country with a 22 hour bus ride; it took longer to get from Yaounde to Meiganga than Los Angeles to Yaounde! Home feels like a distant past. Saying goodbye to my parents this time around there were no tears shed, a breif hug and a "see ya later!" Then we waved goodbye. I keep showing pictures of my time home and the most common response is that I look just like my mom!

After that nasty bus ride, I got right back in the swing of things. I kept telling Emma and Samantha, my postmate and cluster mate respectively, that if I sit down I will not get back up. So lets keep going! What I am referring to is a little ceremony that Emma and I had planned for our scholarship girls. An NGO, A2Empowerment, awards girls in Cameroon scholarships for High School based upon need and merit. Last year we had a difficult time with attendance of monthly meetings and girls thinking the scholarship was a gift not something that they earned. 

This year we tried changing things up. We held a ceremony to give out their scholarships and certificates. A guardian for each girl was invited as well as the principals from each school and other important community figures. Although only 3 of the invited 9 officials showed up, it still was considered a success. Speeches were made by Emma and I as well as the principals in attendance. Emma and I focused on, "We are here for you!"  

I honestly think it resonated with the girls. The mom's were proud, we were proud, A2Empowerment is proud. After the ceremony we celebrated with cakes and soda and went on to enjoy our Saturday. Our next meeting is September 29th where we will be talking about goal setting for the school year. We have fun monthly meetings planned for the girls. 

Coming home was a necessary break for me. It allowed me to clear my head, enjoy the company of loved ones. Thank you all for the hugs, the kind words, the letters, everything. My second year is going to be a great one...I can just feel it. I cannot wait to share it with you :)

Delicious cakes that Emma made!

The seats for the officials invited.

Emma and I with the girls after the ceremony.

Your prayers have been answered...

On May 28, 2011, I remember thinking at my going away party that there is no possible way that I will be able to find the same support system in Cameroon. I wish each one of you could visit Meiganga, have tea or a cold beer with my friends; just sit and talk with them. They are my support system here. You would love them! They ask about my friends and family back home and I respond, "My family is a HUGE; my friends and my neighbors are my family." Normally the response is shock and shortly followed, 'WOW! You have an African family!' And that is true.

I want to share with you all my family here. Here are some of my closest friends. They are the reason why I love where I live. So my friends where ever you are in the world right now, just know that I have found a community, support system, and friends in Meiganga. I wish though I had a picture of the Peace Corps Staff because they too are my family.

I wish that you all could meet my Cameroonian family, but photos will have to do. See you all in August!  :)

Dennis is my soccer buddy! Dennis invited me to play with his friends and playing again has made me happier at post. He is a great friend! (The girls, left to right, Samantha & Charla are my postmates)

Amanda, my neighbor, and me on her birthday! I made her a cake and we all sang Happy Birthday in French and English. We sit on my porch daily together discussing gossip, preparing food, or sharing food from each others' home towns. She is my cheerleader in Meiganga and my go to person who will defend me from creepy men in town!

After church Easter morning with the Dokos, my landlord's family who lives in the concession with me. They have 7 boys who always seem to put a smile on my face when I am having a bad day. And Mr. & Mrs. Doko are always the first people I ask when I need help!

Hadidja and Salilou are wonderful. Always offering a warm meal, a cup of tea and a place to rest my head when I am not feeling well. 

Fanta, my Community Host, and I after the Fete du Mouton celebrations. She offers insight on the Cameroonian culture, she is a person to laugh with and grab a beer. Plus she is an amazing cook!

Gbaya Funeral

It’s never a fun topic. What is fun about death? Lately, the stories here have been beyond anyone’s imagination. A young adult who had his whole life to live whose 2 year old daughter died the year prior, the father of 5 young children, a woman who was too ashamed to acknowledge her HIV status and did not take the free treatment that would have prolonged her life. These are just a few of the stories. Everyone has theirs', but somehow here they are just heart wrenching. But we can learn from peoples’ experiences; we can learn how to laugh amongst the tears.

The family I lived with lost their grandmother one Monday afternoon. She passed away at 13:30 and I was there shortly after. It was Emmajene’s mom. She had been sick, could not help with the birth of her daughter’s 7^th son, it was expected. But as with any death, expected means nothing. Death is death. I have been to my fair share of funerals, but in the states you know what to expect. You pray the Rosary, may or may not see an open casket, there are flowers, there are quiet tears. The funeral was of a Christian, Gbaya beloved mother of 3 girls and 1 boy, countless grandchildren.

Immediately after hearing the news of her passing, Amanda (my other neighbor in the concession) and I went directly to her house. Amanda comes from another region of Cameroon where there are different mourning customs, so we both were in for a cultural shock. The grandmother was lying on a foam bed in the corner of the room. There was a white sheet, which is customary, covering her body just until the nose. Each nostril had a bit of cotton in it. And women were surrounding her crying; a cry that is none like anything that we are accustomed to; a cry that was like a scream, a plea, a prayer, a whaling. When another woman walks into the room, she greets one of the family members with a handshake that is reserved only for giving your condolence. Then the women start the loud cries. Its gives you chills and immediately brings tears to your eyes. People do not cry here; it is only for mourning. Women do not even cry during childbirth. Men especially do not cry.

Therefore, when seeing the youngest son, 20 years old, burst into the room, threw himself on the bed that his mom laid on, and screamed. It was surreal. I have been to enough funerals, but the last time I really saw death, it was my Grandma Nicolai and I was in the 4^th grade. I did not understand that my dad and I were going to the hospital to “claim” her. Life here is hard, and sometimes I forget that people actually feel. That may sound insensitive, but in the States we are so accustomed to people wearing their emotions on their sleeves. Here that is just not the case.

The next morning, I went to the house to bring a kilo of sugar as a gift and to greet the family. I was told to come back later that afternoon for the funeral. The funeral happened in Gbaya, one of the other local languages here. As they were lowering the casket a family member jumped into the grave crying; in order to get him out people had to throw in money. (100 CFA about 20 cents) After the funeral, family and close friends were invited to drink Buie together (the spelling is wrong, but it is like a rice drink and depending where you are in the country they will mix in sugar, peanut butter or cinnamon). A mat was placed in the center and people who aided in taking care of the Grandmother were invited to sit on the mat together. Then 2 elder women rubbed oil on them all. Apparently, it is a tradition which mean, ‘Congratulations.’ I interpreted it as, ‘you did your part in taking care of the person. Your work is done and we thank you.’

Charla, my postmate, and I taking care of the babies at the funeral.

The women greeting one of the Grandmother's daughters after the burial. A sign of respect at a funeral is to greet someone by laying on the ground. Then who you are greeting will then lift your head to say 'thank you.' 

Before the burial greeting someone on the ground there were tears, but after the burial it is a celebration of life and joyous. 

Taking care of Emmajean's youngest son.