About 6:30am, my host momma gives
me some hot coffee and bread before I skip off to meet Sam, another Peace Corps
trainee, so we can walk to school. I actually like mornings, it is the least stressful
part of the day.
It is about a 40 minute walk to
school (Sam and I have got it down pretty good now). Probably by the end of 8
weeks we will be walking pros.
Sam and I on our way home from training |
At 8am classes start with maybe
language training, agriculture or business training, and random safety &
health classes. The language classes are really helpful and focused since there
are only about 2-3 people in each class. What I don’t learn in class, my host
mother teaches me at home. The agribusiness classes are really interesting.
Cameroon has some similar vegetables to the U.S., but there are many others
that I had never heard of. Casava is a main staple (the one that smells like
string cheese). Really good once you get used to it. We started using machetes
this week and learning some neat ways to grow food in Cameroon. It would be
nice to have a tractor and some really good rakes, but we must learn how to
prepare our garden with the same tools that are used in Cameroon.
Using a machete to cut down the grass for our garden |
My classes are interesting, but
are overwhelming sometimes. We are cramming a lot of information into 9 weeks
of training. During my breaks I jumped onto the internet but since we all have
the same idea, sometimes it is a bit slow. By 4:30pm, my classes are done and
we start to get ready to walk home. Sometimes I stay at the training center for
an hour but I can’t wait too long because it gets dark around 6:30pm and it is
dangerous to walk on the road in the dark, especially being female. I am lucky
that I have Sam to walk with.
By the time I get home, it is time
to prepare dinner and work on homework. It is a wonderful feeling to be in complete
silence as my host sister and I do homework together while my host mom looks at
my homework now and again to check that it is correct. We live such different
lives and yet there are always similarities. I wish I could give my host family
a real bathroom and a stove to cook on. I wish that I could give them
electricity all the time. I wish I could give my host sister the opportunity to
go to college someday. I wish, I wish. But all I can give them is my time. They
are giving me their time, teaching me their life, and opening their doors to
their home.
An example of my host mom's cooking: Fish, beef or chicken not sure cassava, and just for me: French fries. (or apple of the earth when translated in French) |
I hope that by learning how they
farm here, I can find ways to help them live a better life through agriculture.
My host mother is a farmer and there are nights where she is putting cassava to
dry in banana leaves, but even with a good job, she is living a difficult life
that could be better. But they are happy. They don’t know what they don’t have.
Except electricity of course.
I am waiting for the electricity to
come back on. It has been out for days; ever since the thunderstorm that took
out two electricity poles down the road from us. I’m assuming that someone
comes to fix it, but by what I have heard, that someone could take weeks to get
here. Using a lamp or flashlight after 7pm gets old quick. We are usually in
bed by 9pm. I try to do homework but the darkness swallows me up in dreams.
I washed my clothes for the first
time last Sunday. I have to say for being washed in a bucket, those clothes
turned out pretty clean. I also went to a Catholic Church. I guess my host
family is Catholic but they do not go too often. I asked to go just for the
experience. It was really just like every other Catholic Church service I have
been to except that it was in French and there were large wasp nests hanging
from the lights up above. Not sure if I will go back to that church. There is
also a Presbyterian and Baptist Church down the street where I heard there is
dancing during the service.
Washing my clothes in a bucket |
Last weekend I also went to the
main city of Ebolawa with my host sister. We took a moto (motocycle taxi) which
was really awesome. I was surprised that I felt safe riding a moto. Most of the
guys are pretty good drivers. Sometimes there are up to 5 people on one moto
and I have seen a guy carrying a very large pig while riding one. In the city,
there were vendors everywhere. We bought a few essentials for me and I treated
my host sister to some things she wanted. We went home with gifts for the
entire family.
Life is here has one big
difference from home: necessity. Some Cameroonians who have gone to college or
traveled in Europe know what they don’t have. Others people can only imagine
what they don’t have or just don’t think about it. Sometimes I forget what we
don’t have when we are sitting in a circle around a lamp, playing cards, and
listening to the rain clash against the tin roof. I fall asleep in my bed
easily after a long day of hard work. I wake up from a usual dream (I probably
was fighting off dragons or something crazy) and realize that I am still in
Africa. I go to training and find out that one of the Peace Corps volunteer’s
host sister just died from typhoid fever. The host sister was healthy when we
arrived here in Cameroon.
I remind myself that I need to be
thankful for what I have in the U.S. I may only notice the mice under my bed
here, washing my clothes by hand, and the very large ants that like to sting me
when I am working in the garden. But the real gift at home is life. Life is cut
short here and malnutrition is a norm. There are many people trying to improve
Cameroonian life. And I am very thankful to be one of them.