The PC comes to town

24 hours of travel comprised of three flights (one of which was hit in a lightning storm!), 2 vaccines (coupled with the near dozen that we’ve already had), a crash course on what exactly business casual attire is (the Peace Corps is OBSESSED with business casual), and I’m here! Bienvenue au Cameroon—that’s welcome to Cameroon for those of you that don’t speak the French…

I can’t believe I’m in Africa! The past four days have been a total blur full of paperwork, another one of the PC’s obsessions, shots, and introductions. The PC headquarters are located in the capital, Yaounde, but I can’t exactly tell you what Yaounde looks like because we’re sort of caged animals right now. The beginning of my African adventure is a little more like a circus than the wild African safari I was hoping for. But a good circus, nonetheless. I’m just waiting for when they release the animals!

Wake ups are at 6:30, breakfast at 6:45, and at training by 7:15 (read: 8ish—African time…). Because we’re so close to the equator there’s daylight from 6 to 6, so I’m going to have to tame my wild party girl side (read: thank god I get to go to bed around eight!). The food has been fantastic so far—carbohydrates and I agree like Sonny and Cher prior to the whole tree incident. Who knew that rice, bread, and potatoes went together so well! I’ve discovered a deadly Cameroonian hot sauce, piment, so I’m looking forward to a new spice in my life.

My training group is 42 strong—20 health volunteers, and 22 agro-forestry volunteers. We’re 20%ish guys, and 80%ish girls. Two married guys, one lovely gent whose 63…so that’s makes us about 15% gents. I don’t think my chances of snagging the one are in my favor... I love the diversity of my group—not racial diversity we’re like 99% white. Everyone is coming from such different places and experiences. There’s a fair amount of people in agro-forestry who have masters in forestry, horticulture, botany, and the like, so I really feel like I’m going to bring a lot to the table (read: INTENSE sarcasm).

Those the days are intense (read: I played cards for five hours yesterday), the nights seem to be filled with mellowness. Beer is good, hard liquor comes in the packet variety, literally plastic baggies of shots, and the company the perfect complement to it all. Tonight they arranged for a rasta group to come and play music for us. The night ended with a spectacular lightning storm, and the pitter-patter of rain. As the musicians sang and danced, seemingly oblivious to the rain, I couldn’t help but think that this is the way a night is supposed to end. As I snuck out of the concert, hoping to catch a brief moment of alone time, the lights went out. Such is life in Cameroon, n’est pas?

The Beginning

To clarify, this scene hasn’t actually happened. Well, yet at least. Picture me on a bus somewhere in the African countryside. The bus, perhaps the country’s pride in the early 80’s, is remarkably still a convenient way to traverse the country. Convenient in that same way that when you reach for a stick of gum in your purse, it’s actually just an empty pack. As we crawl through the terrain, I wonder if it would be faster to get out and walk. But then I’d miss the show. As everyone piles on the bus, a woman looks at me with those longing eyes beckoning for my help. I exchange a knowing glance with her, and respond, “Sure I’ll hold your goat.” Instantly we are bonded—all because I held her goat. Or something like that.

Anyway, that’s the premise for this blog: “sure I’ll hold your goat.” It’s my new mantra. Why not—I’ve never held a goat before, but it seems like something I should probably try. The next 27 months should be filled with new goats. This is true not only due to the circumstance of stranding myself in Cameroon (marooning myself if you will), but also because the good ole Corps of Peace doesn’t seem to be so keen on providing information. But that’s okay because the little bit of information that they have sent, I’ve lost prior to reading. We’re a perfect match.

I’m an agro-forestry volunteer—meaning that I’m working with agriculture and forestry. I know that you might think that self-explanatory, but I myself was confused by the term. This is because I know nothing about agriculture or really forestry. My endeavors into both fields should be hilarious. I’m not sure what’s in store for the next 27 months, but I promise to keep you all updated with the trials and tribulations of life in the ‘roon!