Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Host Brothers Boris and Christian ages 6ish and 8ish

Bonjour ma soeur

Drum roll please…

Since I expect that you’ve all been waiting with bated breath for the past two months for this announcement, I won’t make you wait any longer: I’m moving to Bamendjou! Wooohhhoooo. (I know you’re all running to your maps of Cameroon that you’ve had dutifully plastered to your walls’ since I left). After almost two grueling months of training the end is in sight—and it’s only 2 hours away. I spent last week in Bamendjou meeting the locals and getting my hands dirty in town politics. What follows is my oh-so scintillating report of the week:

My first night at post was spent under a makeshift mosquito net in some auberge in Bamendjou above a nightclub with no one in it blasting Rasta music. The scene is made only more hilarious by the fact that I’m sitting up in my “bed” with my Swiss army knife open, and my head lamp attached to my head because I’ve somehow, in a ridiculous delirium, convinced myself that the night watch man has been killed by some drunken funeral goers. Oh, and did I mention that there are bats in my room that periodically dive-bomb my mosquito net because I have failed to close the bathroom window? There was something about the night that was sleepless, but I can’t quite put my finger on it…
(note: I’m not actually crazy, but I think that my anti-malarial medications are taking their toll on my sanity).

The next morning, a bit groggy and perhaps clinically insane, I met my counterpart, Raymond, in the center of town. Raymond will be my trusted confident for the next two years and together we will scour the hills of Bamendjou in search of farmers who desperately need my expertise. I spent the morning at CADEP (Cameroonian Association for Development), my partner NGO, whom I was told specializes in organic planting and medicinal plants. In actuality, they would like to specialize in these two fields, and will rely on my prior knowledge to start production. Nothing but a barrel of laughs in the Peace Corps.

We spent the afternoon touring the village via a nice little 15km hike. It’s really quite a stunning place, and once I get over the fact that I’m living in the middle of nowhere Cameroon as a farmer and I have to hike at the very least 10km a day to do anything, I think I’ll really love it. The topography reminds me of Vermont, sans snow, of course. The mountains are gorgeous and I can see myself getting lost in them (both figuratively and actually) for years. Dry season is approaching, and that means that I will acquire an excellent farmer’s tan (ah, the irony cause I’m actually a farmer!) over the next couple months.

I’m living in a house that was once owned by a member of the Bamilike (the major ethnicity group in the West province) nobility. I have a gigantic front yard that will be perfect for all my planting endeavors. My two-bedroom house is quaint and with a good paint coat/building of walls will be perfect for entertaining my new friends. Across the street from my house is a mammoth church complete with an adorable 80-year-old Spanish priest and a not so adorable, but potentially entertaining Polish priest. There is also a Catholic mission in town, complete with three rather disgruntled Spanish nuns. Consequently, all the villagers think that since I’m white, and the proselytizing people of the God are white, I must be running with the ranks of the Lord. For now, I’m just you’re average nun-farmer…

When I’m not renewing (read: creating) my love for God, I intend to pass the time with the local village chiefs. Deftly straddling the line of modernity, most Cameroonian towns employ both tribal and government authorities. Bamendjou’s Jokondjou Cendjou II Rameau Jean Phillipe is the oldest, and perhaps most respected, chief in Cameroon—and he lives in my village! Hovering just under 7 feet, Jokondjou Cendjou II Rameau Jean Phillipe wears air Nikes, bling, and track suits with the best of them. The rest of the chiefs in surrounding villages are hilarious, and I foresee many a nights spent arguing the merits of polyandry with them (note: since most chiefs practice polygamy, and seem rather set in their ways, I am on a mission to introduce polyandry to the villages).

The rest of the week was a blur of meetings—I’m doing PTA moms everywhere proud—including, but not limited to: the Cyber CafĂ© committee, Combating African Swine Virus committee (important to note that we are not in favor of African Swine Virus), the Cane Rat committee (this is hilarious—I’m going to raise domesticated rats for the next two years!) and the Cabbage Farmers of Bangam committee. I spent my birthday in Baffoussam, the provincial capital of the West Province, gorging myself on ice cream, pasta and draft beer. To those of you who sent birthday vibes, thank you so much! For those of you who forgot my birthday, it’s been so wonderful being friends!

I think that’s it for now. I hope, as always, that this blog posting finds you well and gearing up for a delightfully delicious Thanksgiving meal. May your turkeys be tasty, may your squash scrumptious, and may you be thankful for the family and friends who surround you!