Home Sweet Home

Before I say anything else, I have to beg your forgiveness for not posting sooner. Mother says: “Everyone has been asking about you! You have to update your blog!” And as usual, mother is right. But in my defense, I wanted to wait until I actually had something to say before I said it!



Me and my community host, Madame
Delphine Nghoko

Never fear, I now have a lot to say.

On Wednesday, we had our big “swearing in” event, when we officially became PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers). Now, no one can sneeringly refer to us as mere brainless, useless trainees who don’t know what it’s really like to be a volunteer. Now we are officially experts. The administration has declared it so.

Anyway, being a PCV also means the rules have all changed. No 7 p.m. curfew, no no-more-than-one-beer-a-day rule. So what do we do? Throw a rager. And what happens? Bad things: one girl experienced her room being snuck into while she was in it by a strange man who had the keys I guess that justifies all those rules in the first place. I think it’s important to remember that bad things happen everywhere in the world, however, and we just have to deal with them as they happen and afterwards in the best way for each of us individually.

Me and PUPPIES! in my pagne (pronounced
"pon-ya") dress

The party also meant that, the following day when we all began traveling to our posts, there were hangovers abounding. Becoming a PCV does not mean becoming wise after all! I rode a bus loaded with the many, many, MANY belongings of some PCVs traveling to the West, North West, and South West regions via Bafoussam (the regional capital of the West, and the city where I do my banking). I have to emphasize the quantity of stuff: I had a trunk, three bags, and a bike. I had no idea how I was going to get from our Bafoussam stop to my apartment. I just closed my eyes and hoped it would work out.

AND IT DID! My community host, Madame Delphine Nghoko, showed up in Bafoussam, found a car to take us right up to the front steps of my apartment, and helped me carry my things up those stairs. Granted, she couldn’t magically clean or furnish my apartment--neither of which have yet been accomplished--but as far as I’m concerned, she worked magic nonetheless.

Danielle, who lives in the next quartier (neighborhood, pronounced car-tee-yay) over, has an equally awesome host named Bernadette. Bernadette is the wife of a chief, which makes her a queen, which is pretty sweet. She took us two back to Bafoussam the next day to open up bank accounts at Afriland First (Why, you might ask, did I choose that bank? Take a second look at the name. No further explanation should be necessary. But if you need more, the headquarters in Yaounde has awesome murals all over it of lions and stuff.) and buy some stuff for my apartment. I blew threw my Peace Corps “settling-in allowance” by buying:

• a foam mattress, 5” thick

• a pair of pillows (yellow with white flowers)

• sheets (colorful, stripy and deliciously soft)

• a cook top with two stoves

• gas canister, full

My living room/kitchen/entrance way

• a cord and device to connect the gas canister to the stove

• two bowls for eating out of

• one Marmite (cook pot)

• a wooden spatula

My "bathroom"

• 12 hangers (not that I have anything to hang them on… YET)

• 2 buckets for everything involving non-drinking water

In other words, I’m livin’ it up.

Sarcasm aside, there are several things that are awesome about MY NEW HOME. I can eat what I want, when I want (other than chips, pretzels, cheese, real butter, Dad’s gumbo which is so much better than Cameroonian gumbo, and other things that can’t be found easily in this country). I can “nest” until it’s exactly my own, exactly the way I want it. I live right next to the market which occurs every 8 days and offers much excitement. I can run over to Danielle’s whenever I need emotional support. I’m blessed with great community guides. My neighbors are awesome and tend to feed me at least once a day, in true Cameroonian welcoming fashion. I get to sing terribly at the top of my lungs whenever I want. And I’m going to live in the exact same place for two years!

Overall, I’d say I’m pretty darn lucky.