once again, a lot has occured since last i posted anything.
i flew back home, visited virginia, met a lot of lee's family, drove to tennessee, went to an amazing music festival, drove back to virginia, flew to california, went to the spa (thank god), saw more family, and ran around like a chicken with my head cut off, trying to stock up on supplies and gifts to bring back to post. everything in the states seems simple, but going to target, costco, best buy, and old navy all in one day still takes it out of you.
one year down, one to go.
coming back to the states was bizarre at first. the small cultural differences are what were initially the most strange to me, for example, apparently it's really formal to shake everyone's hand in a room. also, toilet seats are awfully sturdy and roads are awfully wide and smooth. being in walmart is like being trapped in an air-conditioned hamster cage with lots of distractions. sushi is my life blood, the only thing that i seriously cannot replicate in cameroon. road rage seems completely unnecessary and everyone seems terrified and stressed out for one reason or another. climate change climate change climate change. at post, my scope is not so large.
the music festival was an oasis, a place that was neither in the states or africa, full of things to listen to and look at. it was so much fun. i will never forget it. live music has this amazing power to move me emotionally in a way that nothing else can. i realize that i can't live without it.
it was also great to see my family in california, although i felt a great deal of stress there, mostly because i only had one week to run ten thousand errands and see everyone before i came back.
and now, the backness. it was ridiculously difficult for me to leave washington dc and my boyfriend, knowing that i would be spending a year without him, which, for your family, is ok because you are 95% sure that you will see everyone again and have the same relationship. they are stuck with you and your roles are defined. inter-continental romantic relationships are another beast, full of uncertainty and an extreme desire to hold on as tight as you can but also knowing that you can't control what happens. this depresses me, and i know that it will depress me for a long time to come.
apart from that, everything is advancing. the minute i got off the plane and smelled cameroon, i knew that everything was fine and that i feel at home here and still have a lot of work to do. i immediately went to help with the training of the new SED/ED stage, and have now immediately programmed another tour of my mobile computer lab, for which i need to create four more interactive lesson plans. work work work. i just wish that the depressed tinge would go away. i thought that i could completely blot it out with frantic activity. apparently it's not that simple. damnit. and i've only been back for ten days. maybe it will get easier?
Friday, July 11, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
la vie, l'amour, la transition...on va faire comment?
So it's been awhillllleeee since I've written anything here. Lots has happened, so i will try and summarize as best as possible.
Major Events:
a.) the strikes
b.) consolidation
c.) business class
d.) mobile computer
e.) RIDEV
f.) best friend ETing
g.) boyfriend deciding to not extend for a third year or work in Cameroon
h.) training design workshop
Ok, from the beginning.
It has been a couple months since the strikes and riots have happened, but I feel like I need to briefly clarify what happened (at least from my perspective). Most of us agree that they started when a truck drivers' strike, spurred by high gas prices (which are controlled by the state), got out of hand. In Douala, people started shooting each other and destroying gas stations and PMUC vestibules. Then it spread to the Anglophone regions, the capital city of Yaounde, and the West province (where I live). The rioters went in and shut down schools, burned tires in the streets, and generally caused mayhem. What happened varied from town to town. I am 15 minutes away from Bafoussam, the provincial capital of the West and the third largest city in Cameroon. Apparently things were pretty bad there. I don't know what that means exactly, because the minute things started to get bad, PC ordered us to stay in our houses, which is exactly what the Cameroonian families that weren't participating in the strikes were doing. I share a compound with another family. It has huge walls and I felt like I was more in danger of dying from curiosity about what was happening than from violent rioters. This lasted for about a week, then the army was deployed and everything settled down.
This is when PC decided to consolidate those people affected by the strikes, just in case they were to start back up again. Everyone in the near West was consolidated to my post (about 12 of us). They didn't start back up, and we spent several days consumed by boredom, wanting more news and some sort of resolution. After a few more days, it was business as usual and everyone went back to their respective posts. After that, it was almost like nothing had happened. There was very little evidence in my area of what had happened, although if you look closely, you notice that the road has begun to deteriorate where they burned the tires (exactly what Cameroon needs, another bad road!). Now, it has been several months since the riots and daily life has completely returned to normal without any problems since.
I finished teaching my first business class a couple months ago as well. Before I started, I was terrified of about a million things: teaching, teaching in French, teaching in French to men who may not respect women, teaching in French to men who may not respect women who have been running businesses for 20 years. You get the idea. I was also terrified that I wouldn't have enough people sign up. However, it turned out the I had 38 people in the class, and was still turning them away afterwards! Next time, I am only letting 30 in, tops. The class was a fabulous experience for me because I learned that the best way to learn how to teach is to just jump into it. You are never going to feel 100% ready, especially if you are teaching in a second language. However, once the class got going, I loved it. I co-facilitated with the regional director of my bank, which also taught me a lot about how to train those with whom you teach (training of trainers). She ended up being way too busy with work and family (manages five bank branches, has five children, gets up at 5am each day), so she wasn't as involved as I would have liked. However, everything still went well. Everyone was excited and dynamic. People participated, raised interesting questions, and tried really hard on their homework. And they gave me really positive evaluations! In addition, the make up of the class was incredibly diverse, and it gave me an interesting insight into different types of business problems in vastly different sectors. For example, I had a 60-year-old woman in the class who sold fertilizer in her neighborhood, and a 16-year-old student who aspired to start and market a comedy act. And although these people were in completely different places in their lives, somehow they were both able to related to and do well in the class. I'm very satisfied with the results. I will be teaching the class again during the training of the next batch of volunteers in order to act as a model for possible work they could do at post. That means that PC people will probably come in and watch! Scary!
I have also been working working working on my mobile computer project. I recently finished a project design and management book that emphasizes how hard it is to estimate the time designing a project takes. Designing this project took much longer than I wanted it to. Managing the other three people working on it, designing, researching, and creating lesson plans, formatting computers, doing training of trainers, logistics and so on finally resulted in a ready product about two weeks ago, right before I had to pack up my stuff and head to Yaounde for three weeks for the HIV/AIDS/Gender, Youth, & Development committee, the training design workshop for this year's SED/ED training, and training of trainers (where we give a sample session, to prove we can teach). And we were so close to implementation! I am heading back to post for two weeks at the end of this week, then heading to America for three weeks, then coming back to help with training. I am DETERMINED that we will implement the project during those two weeks I'm at post. In fact, we have already found a women's group (mostly wives of a chief) and have dates when we can work with them. FINALLY!
The people implicated in the project are myself, another volunteer, and two junior members of the NGO with which I work, RIDEV (the Research Institute for Development). One is a dynamic, extremely intelligent 21-year-old woman, who will be teaching lifeskills with me. The other is a charismatic, diligent 28-year-old rugby player who will be teaching computers. In addition to the computer project, the RIDEV team has other projects primarily in the domains of HIV/AIDS prevention/stigma reduction/and care and support, and human rights. I attend their weekly meetings and act as a consultant, helping them design and monitor projects, giving regular feedback and tips on professionalism. We recently had an exhausting, yet fruitful retreat where we hammered out a formal project plan for the organization, hoping to give the members concrete and sustainable direction. I very much enjoy my work with them and love seeing their personal and professional growth. I feel extremely lucky that I work with such motivated and honest people. That is not always so easy to come by.
The other volunteer who was working on the computer project was my best friend and post mate, Travis. He has kind of had a rough time since we arrived in country, approximately one year ago. When I switched posts and moved right across the carrefour from him, he told me that it gave him a reason to stay. He loved teaching, and generally liked his colleagues, he just wasn't happy in other areas of his life. Every time he talked about going home, I would talk him out of it. Lately, I felt like everything was going way better. He talked about how he couldn't imagine being in America, how he was so excited for next year, and how he had so many projects that he was excited about. That's why I was incredibly surprised when he called me to tell me, "You are going to be mad at me. I ET'ed." For those of you that aren't savvy with the PC acronyms (god, there are so many), ET means early termination, or the decision to go back home without finishing your service. In fact, I was mad. Really mad!
Why? Because in addition to my best friend and neighbor dropping this bomb out of the blue, it was on top of something of equally lame proportion that I had been preparing for for awhile: my boyfriend of almost a year (another PCV, who is also very nearby) is finishing his service at the end of May. So basically, the two most important people in my world here are leaving me to my own devices. At the exact same time. If I was allowed to swear in this blog, I would do it right here for emphasis. The day that I found out that Travis was leaving me too was the lowest day that I've had it awhile. It's because they get me the way other people don't. It's because nights in Cameroon are ridiculously lonely sometimes, and it is really nice to cook with someone and just have them be around, even if you are both reading or working. If you are a woman, you can't have Cameroonian men over without people thinking things are happening (your neighbors and the guy), and it is really difficult to make women friends (most people your age are married and have kids). So I kind of fall back on my PC friends. Everything will be different next year though. Complete integration here I come! Sigh.
Actually, although I am very sad and wracked with feelings of abandonment (to be a little dramatic for when Travis reads this), I am not overly depressed. Keeping busy with work is keeping me from getting too down. I am excited to help out with training and see all of my projects come to fruition. In June, I am going home to visit my boyfriend, going to the Bonnaroo music festival, and seeing some of my family on the west coast, then coming back and working working working. Only one more year to go! Although there have been some major bumps in the road, I am determined to see this through, and not just stand it, but enjoy it. Interestingly enough, although this is yet another time of major transition, I am in a (generally) positive place and am ready to take on these new challenges.
I also have an interesting perspective because I have been working on training design for the past week or so. This brings up extremely strong, almost physical memories of my own training a year ago. I have also "friended" some of the new trainees, and taken a look at their concerns about coming here. I want to give the best advice I can, but really, it is so hard to prepare (emotionally, mentally, physically) for something you have never experienced. Even with my previous experience in Senegal, I still had no idea about Cameroon before I came. You just have to give in to the unknown, ask advice about packing, and don't read the Village of Waiting (too negative, Nine Hills to Nambonkaha is MUCH better).
It is amazing the difference a year makes! I have changed so much. In fact, I am a little bit terrified of going home and walking into Walmart or something. America has turned into the unknown for me. I can kind of picture it, but have no idea how it will affect me. Regardless, the minute I get home I am stuffing my face with sushi, stocking up on DVDs, and basically regenerating for year number two.
Major Events:
a.) the strikes
b.) consolidation
c.) business class
d.) mobile computer
e.) RIDEV
f.) best friend ETing
g.) boyfriend deciding to not extend for a third year or work in Cameroon
h.) training design workshop
Ok, from the beginning.
It has been a couple months since the strikes and riots have happened, but I feel like I need to briefly clarify what happened (at least from my perspective). Most of us agree that they started when a truck drivers' strike, spurred by high gas prices (which are controlled by the state), got out of hand. In Douala, people started shooting each other and destroying gas stations and PMUC vestibules. Then it spread to the Anglophone regions, the capital city of Yaounde, and the West province (where I live). The rioters went in and shut down schools, burned tires in the streets, and generally caused mayhem. What happened varied from town to town. I am 15 minutes away from Bafoussam, the provincial capital of the West and the third largest city in Cameroon. Apparently things were pretty bad there. I don't know what that means exactly, because the minute things started to get bad, PC ordered us to stay in our houses, which is exactly what the Cameroonian families that weren't participating in the strikes were doing. I share a compound with another family. It has huge walls and I felt like I was more in danger of dying from curiosity about what was happening than from violent rioters. This lasted for about a week, then the army was deployed and everything settled down.
This is when PC decided to consolidate those people affected by the strikes, just in case they were to start back up again. Everyone in the near West was consolidated to my post (about 12 of us). They didn't start back up, and we spent several days consumed by boredom, wanting more news and some sort of resolution. After a few more days, it was business as usual and everyone went back to their respective posts. After that, it was almost like nothing had happened. There was very little evidence in my area of what had happened, although if you look closely, you notice that the road has begun to deteriorate where they burned the tires (exactly what Cameroon needs, another bad road!). Now, it has been several months since the riots and daily life has completely returned to normal without any problems since.
I finished teaching my first business class a couple months ago as well. Before I started, I was terrified of about a million things: teaching, teaching in French, teaching in French to men who may not respect women, teaching in French to men who may not respect women who have been running businesses for 20 years. You get the idea. I was also terrified that I wouldn't have enough people sign up. However, it turned out the I had 38 people in the class, and was still turning them away afterwards! Next time, I am only letting 30 in, tops. The class was a fabulous experience for me because I learned that the best way to learn how to teach is to just jump into it. You are never going to feel 100% ready, especially if you are teaching in a second language. However, once the class got going, I loved it. I co-facilitated with the regional director of my bank, which also taught me a lot about how to train those with whom you teach (training of trainers). She ended up being way too busy with work and family (manages five bank branches, has five children, gets up at 5am each day), so she wasn't as involved as I would have liked. However, everything still went well. Everyone was excited and dynamic. People participated, raised interesting questions, and tried really hard on their homework. And they gave me really positive evaluations! In addition, the make up of the class was incredibly diverse, and it gave me an interesting insight into different types of business problems in vastly different sectors. For example, I had a 60-year-old woman in the class who sold fertilizer in her neighborhood, and a 16-year-old student who aspired to start and market a comedy act. And although these people were in completely different places in their lives, somehow they were both able to related to and do well in the class. I'm very satisfied with the results. I will be teaching the class again during the training of the next batch of volunteers in order to act as a model for possible work they could do at post. That means that PC people will probably come in and watch! Scary!
I have also been working working working on my mobile computer project. I recently finished a project design and management book that emphasizes how hard it is to estimate the time designing a project takes. Designing this project took much longer than I wanted it to. Managing the other three people working on it, designing, researching, and creating lesson plans, formatting computers, doing training of trainers, logistics and so on finally resulted in a ready product about two weeks ago, right before I had to pack up my stuff and head to Yaounde for three weeks for the HIV/AIDS/Gender, Youth, & Development committee, the training design workshop for this year's SED/ED training, and training of trainers (where we give a sample session, to prove we can teach). And we were so close to implementation! I am heading back to post for two weeks at the end of this week, then heading to America for three weeks, then coming back to help with training. I am DETERMINED that we will implement the project during those two weeks I'm at post. In fact, we have already found a women's group (mostly wives of a chief) and have dates when we can work with them. FINALLY!
The people implicated in the project are myself, another volunteer, and two junior members of the NGO with which I work, RIDEV (the Research Institute for Development). One is a dynamic, extremely intelligent 21-year-old woman, who will be teaching lifeskills with me. The other is a charismatic, diligent 28-year-old rugby player who will be teaching computers. In addition to the computer project, the RIDEV team has other projects primarily in the domains of HIV/AIDS prevention/stigma reduction/and care and support, and human rights. I attend their weekly meetings and act as a consultant, helping them design and monitor projects, giving regular feedback and tips on professionalism. We recently had an exhausting, yet fruitful retreat where we hammered out a formal project plan for the organization, hoping to give the members concrete and sustainable direction. I very much enjoy my work with them and love seeing their personal and professional growth. I feel extremely lucky that I work with such motivated and honest people. That is not always so easy to come by.
The other volunteer who was working on the computer project was my best friend and post mate, Travis. He has kind of had a rough time since we arrived in country, approximately one year ago. When I switched posts and moved right across the carrefour from him, he told me that it gave him a reason to stay. He loved teaching, and generally liked his colleagues, he just wasn't happy in other areas of his life. Every time he talked about going home, I would talk him out of it. Lately, I felt like everything was going way better. He talked about how he couldn't imagine being in America, how he was so excited for next year, and how he had so many projects that he was excited about. That's why I was incredibly surprised when he called me to tell me, "You are going to be mad at me. I ET'ed." For those of you that aren't savvy with the PC acronyms (god, there are so many), ET means early termination, or the decision to go back home without finishing your service. In fact, I was mad. Really mad!
Why? Because in addition to my best friend and neighbor dropping this bomb out of the blue, it was on top of something of equally lame proportion that I had been preparing for for awhile: my boyfriend of almost a year (another PCV, who is also very nearby) is finishing his service at the end of May. So basically, the two most important people in my world here are leaving me to my own devices. At the exact same time. If I was allowed to swear in this blog, I would do it right here for emphasis. The day that I found out that Travis was leaving me too was the lowest day that I've had it awhile. It's because they get me the way other people don't. It's because nights in Cameroon are ridiculously lonely sometimes, and it is really nice to cook with someone and just have them be around, even if you are both reading or working. If you are a woman, you can't have Cameroonian men over without people thinking things are happening (your neighbors and the guy), and it is really difficult to make women friends (most people your age are married and have kids). So I kind of fall back on my PC friends. Everything will be different next year though. Complete integration here I come! Sigh.
Actually, although I am very sad and wracked with feelings of abandonment (to be a little dramatic for when Travis reads this), I am not overly depressed. Keeping busy with work is keeping me from getting too down. I am excited to help out with training and see all of my projects come to fruition. In June, I am going home to visit my boyfriend, going to the Bonnaroo music festival, and seeing some of my family on the west coast, then coming back and working working working. Only one more year to go! Although there have been some major bumps in the road, I am determined to see this through, and not just stand it, but enjoy it. Interestingly enough, although this is yet another time of major transition, I am in a (generally) positive place and am ready to take on these new challenges.
I also have an interesting perspective because I have been working on training design for the past week or so. This brings up extremely strong, almost physical memories of my own training a year ago. I have also "friended" some of the new trainees, and taken a look at their concerns about coming here. I want to give the best advice I can, but really, it is so hard to prepare (emotionally, mentally, physically) for something you have never experienced. Even with my previous experience in Senegal, I still had no idea about Cameroon before I came. You just have to give in to the unknown, ask advice about packing, and don't read the Village of Waiting (too negative, Nine Hills to Nambonkaha is MUCH better).
It is amazing the difference a year makes! I have changed so much. In fact, I am a little bit terrified of going home and walking into Walmart or something. America has turned into the unknown for me. I can kind of picture it, but have no idea how it will affect me. Regardless, the minute I get home I am stuffing my face with sushi, stocking up on DVDs, and basically regenerating for year number two.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
finally working
Finally I feel like I’ve reached a point where I can start talking about work. I have been dating a second year volunteer for awhile (this is not work, I know). Other volunteers joke that he is “the captain of the football team” or “Peace Corps’ golden boy.” He is always busy and always has a lot of projects and a lot of advice. During my first months at post, I could not stand listening to him, lest I think about my relative lack of success and complete frustration. In fact, if I could describe my Peace Corps service to date with one word, it would definitely be: “frustrating.” Thank god things are finally changing and we can have frank conversations about work.
Admittedly, a significant part of this shift has to do with my changing posts. At my old post, any ideas I directed towards my colleagues were generally met with blank stares and stubbornness. People frequently talked about me in the third person while I was standing right in front of them. I was scared to open my mouth during council meetings. Everywhere I went, I took frantic notes in a notebook, simultaneously brainstorming project ideas and venting my frustrations. As soon as I switched posts, I ditched the book and decided that nothing would be accomplished without confidence and frank conversation – if my new colleagues would actually talk, and better yet, actually listen to me. They did. Right from the beginning. Things are looking up.
The first positive indication that things were changing for the better came at our in-service training, to which I brought the “chef d’agence” of one of the branches of my new bank. The woman who would be serving as my future counterpart couldn’t come, as she had an infant to take care of. However, the woman, Jeanette, who did come was fabulous and smart and articulate. She spoke American. For example, we had an exercise where we were divided into mixed groups of Cameroonian counterparts and PC volunteers. The activity was to discuss the various goals and objectives of the Small Enterprise Development project plan and give examples of projects that would contribute to meeting those goals. I rambled and rambled and rambled along in French (being the most language-proficient among the volunteers in the group). The volunteers nodded their assent and added tidbits here and there. The Cameroonians looked at me uncomprehendingly. Jeannette, however, got it. “Is this what you’re saying?” She asked me, translating my American-style French and bluntness into Cameroonian-style French and flowery oration. Exactly right! She did this several times, both for me and my fellow volunteers, each time capturing the essence of what we were trying to say and expanding it in a way that was more comprehensible to the other counterparts. I was so excited to finally be working with somebody who I felt understood me.
I am going to start teaching a business class with her in two weeks. While I have never formally taught a class, the materials (prepared by “PC’s golden boy” and another volunteer) are incredibly detailed, practical, and meticulously divided into 5-20 minute increments. Each class is two hours, and there are 12 sessions. We will be teaching classes on what makes a good entrepreneur, feasibility studies, goals and action plans, basic accounting, inventory, leadership, meeting management, income statements and balance sheets, budgeting, financial services available in Cameroon, business plans, and two sessions on marketing. What makes me nervous and what could make or break the class is the need for Cameroonian examples (and maybe my accent). Fortunately, I now know relatively enough about raising animals and farming (agriculture dominates this region) that I should be able to provide some good input. Fortunately also, Jeannette agreed to teach the class with me. I am really excited to start. Finally, something tangible!
In addition to this class, my new post mate (who is also a close friend) and I are working on a mobile computer lab and training to go with it. While on vacation in the states, the volunteer I have been dating got family and friends to donate 5 used laptops. On return, the idea of a mobile computer lab that was able to reach the most rural of populations floated around, but the project stagnated and the computers just ended up collecting dust for about three months (and since this is the dry season, that is A LOT of dust). After I switched posts, with his blessing and encouragement, I decided to take over the project. I wrote a project proposal and started working on the computers with my post mate. We will also be working with members of a Cameroonian NGO named RIDEV (Research Institute for Development). The head of the NGO is also a PC health tech trainer, which means that he leads the 3-month technical training that all of the new health volunteers receive upon arrival in country. The members of the NGO are extremely motivated and dynamic and eager to work on the project. They seem as excited as I am to work on a project which is so close to being implemented.
With the computers, we will travel around to rural villages, focusing our efforts on women and youth that have had little or no access to computers. Our objective is to give them confidence enough to continue to explore these technologies after our training is finished. In addition to the basic computer training, we will also be sneaking in “life skills” training. For groups of girls, we will teach computers, but also require that they attend sessions on HIV/AIDS prevention and good decision-making. For groups of mothers, we will throw in malaria prevention and water purification. For women’s agricultural cooperatives, we will teach budgeting and the importance of keeping a cash book. In order to make sure we keep the “life skills” pertinent to the participants, we will target specific groups in different villages that have relatively homogenous needs. If we instead chose to advertise, we would get a range of people with very different needs and life experiences. For example, you can’t as effectively do a condom demonstration when young girls and older men are mixed in class. In fact, I cringe just thinking about trying to do it.
I have a couple other projects I’m working on, but I think I’ve rambled enough for today. However, in closing I would like to highlight something. The projects that I’ve mentioned are both ideas that have diffused from other volunteers. I feel very lucky because I am posted in province where you can’t go a week without running into another volunteer. While the new volunteers generally use these opportunities to bitch about their difficulty finding meaningful work or friends, having contact with the old ones creates access to an amazing accumulation of knowledge that is completely invaluable. From project ideas and materials to valuable contacts, having the advice of a volunteer who has been there longer than you have will shave off a lot of obnoxious trial and error. We are only here for two years. While that might seem like a long time to our mothers, it is a blip on the development trajectory of a country where things generally take at least twice as long as they are supposed to anyway.
Here’s to finally doing some good work!
Admittedly, a significant part of this shift has to do with my changing posts. At my old post, any ideas I directed towards my colleagues were generally met with blank stares and stubbornness. People frequently talked about me in the third person while I was standing right in front of them. I was scared to open my mouth during council meetings. Everywhere I went, I took frantic notes in a notebook, simultaneously brainstorming project ideas and venting my frustrations. As soon as I switched posts, I ditched the book and decided that nothing would be accomplished without confidence and frank conversation – if my new colleagues would actually talk, and better yet, actually listen to me. They did. Right from the beginning. Things are looking up.
The first positive indication that things were changing for the better came at our in-service training, to which I brought the “chef d’agence” of one of the branches of my new bank. The woman who would be serving as my future counterpart couldn’t come, as she had an infant to take care of. However, the woman, Jeanette, who did come was fabulous and smart and articulate. She spoke American. For example, we had an exercise where we were divided into mixed groups of Cameroonian counterparts and PC volunteers. The activity was to discuss the various goals and objectives of the Small Enterprise Development project plan and give examples of projects that would contribute to meeting those goals. I rambled and rambled and rambled along in French (being the most language-proficient among the volunteers in the group). The volunteers nodded their assent and added tidbits here and there. The Cameroonians looked at me uncomprehendingly. Jeannette, however, got it. “Is this what you’re saying?” She asked me, translating my American-style French and bluntness into Cameroonian-style French and flowery oration. Exactly right! She did this several times, both for me and my fellow volunteers, each time capturing the essence of what we were trying to say and expanding it in a way that was more comprehensible to the other counterparts. I was so excited to finally be working with somebody who I felt understood me.
I am going to start teaching a business class with her in two weeks. While I have never formally taught a class, the materials (prepared by “PC’s golden boy” and another volunteer) are incredibly detailed, practical, and meticulously divided into 5-20 minute increments. Each class is two hours, and there are 12 sessions. We will be teaching classes on what makes a good entrepreneur, feasibility studies, goals and action plans, basic accounting, inventory, leadership, meeting management, income statements and balance sheets, budgeting, financial services available in Cameroon, business plans, and two sessions on marketing. What makes me nervous and what could make or break the class is the need for Cameroonian examples (and maybe my accent). Fortunately, I now know relatively enough about raising animals and farming (agriculture dominates this region) that I should be able to provide some good input. Fortunately also, Jeannette agreed to teach the class with me. I am really excited to start. Finally, something tangible!
In addition to this class, my new post mate (who is also a close friend) and I are working on a mobile computer lab and training to go with it. While on vacation in the states, the volunteer I have been dating got family and friends to donate 5 used laptops. On return, the idea of a mobile computer lab that was able to reach the most rural of populations floated around, but the project stagnated and the computers just ended up collecting dust for about three months (and since this is the dry season, that is A LOT of dust). After I switched posts, with his blessing and encouragement, I decided to take over the project. I wrote a project proposal and started working on the computers with my post mate. We will also be working with members of a Cameroonian NGO named RIDEV (Research Institute for Development). The head of the NGO is also a PC health tech trainer, which means that he leads the 3-month technical training that all of the new health volunteers receive upon arrival in country. The members of the NGO are extremely motivated and dynamic and eager to work on the project. They seem as excited as I am to work on a project which is so close to being implemented.
With the computers, we will travel around to rural villages, focusing our efforts on women and youth that have had little or no access to computers. Our objective is to give them confidence enough to continue to explore these technologies after our training is finished. In addition to the basic computer training, we will also be sneaking in “life skills” training. For groups of girls, we will teach computers, but also require that they attend sessions on HIV/AIDS prevention and good decision-making. For groups of mothers, we will throw in malaria prevention and water purification. For women’s agricultural cooperatives, we will teach budgeting and the importance of keeping a cash book. In order to make sure we keep the “life skills” pertinent to the participants, we will target specific groups in different villages that have relatively homogenous needs. If we instead chose to advertise, we would get a range of people with very different needs and life experiences. For example, you can’t as effectively do a condom demonstration when young girls and older men are mixed in class. In fact, I cringe just thinking about trying to do it.
I have a couple other projects I’m working on, but I think I’ve rambled enough for today. However, in closing I would like to highlight something. The projects that I’ve mentioned are both ideas that have diffused from other volunteers. I feel very lucky because I am posted in province where you can’t go a week without running into another volunteer. While the new volunteers generally use these opportunities to bitch about their difficulty finding meaningful work or friends, having contact with the old ones creates access to an amazing accumulation of knowledge that is completely invaluable. From project ideas and materials to valuable contacts, having the advice of a volunteer who has been there longer than you have will shave off a lot of obnoxious trial and error. We are only here for two years. While that might seem like a long time to our mothers, it is a blip on the development trajectory of a country where things generally take at least twice as long as they are supposed to anyway.
Here’s to finally doing some good work!
Friday, December 28, 2007
tis the season
christmas here was mostly like i expected: 80 degrees, cameroonian music blasting, a haze of dust filling the air and a trek up the hill to roast two chickens in a friend's oven. peace corps volunteers usually only have a gas range. now, here comes the homesickness.
about three weeks ago the seasons changed. eight months out of the year cameroon is in the rainy season. you may remember previous blog entries where i marvelled at the amount of mud one encounters daily. however, at the end of november/beginning of december, the dry season starts. i expected a gradual change. instead, we went from daily rains to bone-dry, skin-cracking, dust-cloudy heat in this incredible snap that you could almost hear. my skin is so dry now that i have wrinkles that never existed before. my feet look like little old lady feet covered in a red dusty film. every time you leave the house it's like puffing on a dust cigar. the moto drivers wear the free eye pillows provided on all Air France flights over their noses and mouths to avoid the red lung. this is also the season for road construction, and the act of ripping up the asphalt has created rolling hills of dust. this is not the season to where contact lenses.
in addition to the dust, this is also the season of illness. something about the rash change of climate makes people susceptible to disease. i, myself, have already caught bacterial dysentary twice in one month and have twice been to the neighborhood hospital to seek treatment. the first time, the doctor told me that he thought that i have an irregular heartbeat and that it was necessary to see the internal cardiologist. i told him that i thought his stethoscope might be broken.
it is the season to be lonely for home and for family, but it is also the season to be with friends, both peace corps and cameroonian alike. i feel so lucky that i am near other volunteers that i like and that i can be exposed to different ways that people celebrate these universal holidays. even if it means driving around in a dusty taxi covered in tinsel and feeling that something just isn't quite right...
i miss everyone. this blog is kind of short, but my internet cafe time is running out. happy holidays and don't get too cold...
about three weeks ago the seasons changed. eight months out of the year cameroon is in the rainy season. you may remember previous blog entries where i marvelled at the amount of mud one encounters daily. however, at the end of november/beginning of december, the dry season starts. i expected a gradual change. instead, we went from daily rains to bone-dry, skin-cracking, dust-cloudy heat in this incredible snap that you could almost hear. my skin is so dry now that i have wrinkles that never existed before. my feet look like little old lady feet covered in a red dusty film. every time you leave the house it's like puffing on a dust cigar. the moto drivers wear the free eye pillows provided on all Air France flights over their noses and mouths to avoid the red lung. this is also the season for road construction, and the act of ripping up the asphalt has created rolling hills of dust. this is not the season to where contact lenses.
in addition to the dust, this is also the season of illness. something about the rash change of climate makes people susceptible to disease. i, myself, have already caught bacterial dysentary twice in one month and have twice been to the neighborhood hospital to seek treatment. the first time, the doctor told me that he thought that i have an irregular heartbeat and that it was necessary to see the internal cardiologist. i told him that i thought his stethoscope might be broken.
it is the season to be lonely for home and for family, but it is also the season to be with friends, both peace corps and cameroonian alike. i feel so lucky that i am near other volunteers that i like and that i can be exposed to different ways that people celebrate these universal holidays. even if it means driving around in a dusty taxi covered in tinsel and feeling that something just isn't quite right...
i miss everyone. this blog is kind of short, but my internet cafe time is running out. happy holidays and don't get too cold...
Saturday, November 24, 2007
a change of plans
i realize that there have been rather large time lags between my blogs lately. it should be because things have settled down and my life has become boring. this is true to the extent that i haven't been doing much as far as work is concerned which leaves me moping around the house, reading East of Eden and cooking. however, in every other aspect, my life has been completely bouleversé (overwhelmed, turned upside down).
from my entries, some of you may have ascertained that work hasn't been easy at my bank. what i haven't written about so much are my feelings regarding the town itself. in fact, it's difficult for me to express them in a way that wouldn't seem offensive over the internet.
in short, i don't want to get out of bed in the morning because i don't want to deal the level of agression i encounter without fail every day the second i leave my house. this is not an exaggeration. i am too scared to leave my house after the sun goes down (6:15 all year long; we are located two degrees from the equator), even to cross the street to buy a grilled fish. my building and several adjoining others have been broken into in recent years. recently, the boutique across the street was robbed by bandits who were desperate enough to bore a hole through the cement wall to steal toiletries, notebooks, and a little money. these people aren't kidding around. all of these things, coupled with several reports of brutal mob justice in town and my own personal experience with machete bandits during training, have left me feeling weak and jumpy and jittery, although reasonably calm in every other town i have visited.
i also realized that my body doesn't react well to our required malaria prophelaxis, Lariam (anxiety, panic attacks, paranoia, dizzines, crazy dreams), so decided to switch to something that makes me feel a little more sane in an already crazy environment, although the side effects can apparently last for months afterward.
all of these things swirling around in every crevis of my daily life and mind and existence for far too long finally struck me with the realization that changing posts was necessary for my work and sanity and safety.
let me tell you. this decision has not been easy. before i came to cameroon i remember reading other peoples' blogs and noticing how much they complained. i did not want to be that person. i came to cameroon with a lot of confidence. i had studied abroad and traveled. i speak french and am extremely independent. i haven't wanted to give up on this post. i have wanted to be able to muscle through it and show everyone and myself how tough i can be, but i've realized that staying at this post will not only make me unhappy, it will hinder my effectiveness in work. i want to work in a community where i feel welcomed and respected and safe.
luckily, my program director was sympathetic to my feelings and okayed the change.
there was a lot of deliberation about where they would send me. in the end, we've decided that i will move to a smaller town about 1 hour east of where i am now. it's beautiful, with scenic views and quiet corners. my counterpart will be a woman. peace corps has trained volunteers there before, so the town is very familiar with americans. there are community groups that have already said that they would be willing to work with me. there is also an IT volunteer posted there, giving great opportunities for collaboration. i am very, very excited about it, especially after an incredibly successful house hunt and a positive meeting with the president of the administrative council (the position which the chef holds at my current post).
my only enemy now is my inflated expectations. i am still worried that maybe it wasn't the town and work that were so bad... maybe it's just me. i worry about this despite the constant affirmations by people i respect of the incredible roughness and difficulty encountered in my town. i'm sure that with this change, good things will come, and perhaps they will be easier and faster coming. things will not, however be all angels and roses and chocolate kisses. i will have to adjust all over again and, frankly, right now i feel too tired to do anything but stare blankly at a movie screen and eat lots and lots of sushi. but it will come. and it will be good and better.
happy thanksgiving everyone. i am thinking about you.
from my entries, some of you may have ascertained that work hasn't been easy at my bank. what i haven't written about so much are my feelings regarding the town itself. in fact, it's difficult for me to express them in a way that wouldn't seem offensive over the internet.
in short, i don't want to get out of bed in the morning because i don't want to deal the level of agression i encounter without fail every day the second i leave my house. this is not an exaggeration. i am too scared to leave my house after the sun goes down (6:15 all year long; we are located two degrees from the equator), even to cross the street to buy a grilled fish. my building and several adjoining others have been broken into in recent years. recently, the boutique across the street was robbed by bandits who were desperate enough to bore a hole through the cement wall to steal toiletries, notebooks, and a little money. these people aren't kidding around. all of these things, coupled with several reports of brutal mob justice in town and my own personal experience with machete bandits during training, have left me feeling weak and jumpy and jittery, although reasonably calm in every other town i have visited.
i also realized that my body doesn't react well to our required malaria prophelaxis, Lariam (anxiety, panic attacks, paranoia, dizzines, crazy dreams), so decided to switch to something that makes me feel a little more sane in an already crazy environment, although the side effects can apparently last for months afterward.
all of these things swirling around in every crevis of my daily life and mind and existence for far too long finally struck me with the realization that changing posts was necessary for my work and sanity and safety.
let me tell you. this decision has not been easy. before i came to cameroon i remember reading other peoples' blogs and noticing how much they complained. i did not want to be that person. i came to cameroon with a lot of confidence. i had studied abroad and traveled. i speak french and am extremely independent. i haven't wanted to give up on this post. i have wanted to be able to muscle through it and show everyone and myself how tough i can be, but i've realized that staying at this post will not only make me unhappy, it will hinder my effectiveness in work. i want to work in a community where i feel welcomed and respected and safe.
luckily, my program director was sympathetic to my feelings and okayed the change.
there was a lot of deliberation about where they would send me. in the end, we've decided that i will move to a smaller town about 1 hour east of where i am now. it's beautiful, with scenic views and quiet corners. my counterpart will be a woman. peace corps has trained volunteers there before, so the town is very familiar with americans. there are community groups that have already said that they would be willing to work with me. there is also an IT volunteer posted there, giving great opportunities for collaboration. i am very, very excited about it, especially after an incredibly successful house hunt and a positive meeting with the president of the administrative council (the position which the chef holds at my current post).
my only enemy now is my inflated expectations. i am still worried that maybe it wasn't the town and work that were so bad... maybe it's just me. i worry about this despite the constant affirmations by people i respect of the incredible roughness and difficulty encountered in my town. i'm sure that with this change, good things will come, and perhaps they will be easier and faster coming. things will not, however be all angels and roses and chocolate kisses. i will have to adjust all over again and, frankly, right now i feel too tired to do anything but stare blankly at a movie screen and eat lots and lots of sushi. but it will come. and it will be good and better.
happy thanksgiving everyone. i am thinking about you.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
a day in the life
my alarm went off at 7:30 this morning as it does practically every morning. i have been more or less awake, however since 6:30, which is the time that everyone else decides to get up and start revving moto engines/whacking children/blaring cheesy french church choir music to test and see if their speakers work. i stuff earplugs in my ears and squint against the piercing morning sun. my window faces east. have got to get me some curtains. i press the snooze button a few times, so stubborn that i refuse to wake up unless it is my choice, and not that of the screaming babies across the way.
when i finally drag myself out of bed, i start boiling water for my daily coffee, oatmeal, and warm bucket bath. although i have a shower, it only has cold water and i'd rather squat on the floor and pour water over myself than suffer the sub-zero torrential rain. i do not want to be that awake.
the hardest part of my day is leaving the house, because walking to work means walking through the center of town, being called la blanche or ndoc or wat or baby at leat 15 times and dodging motos, sludge-filled ditches and crazy stick man.
crazy stick man is one of the regular fous (crazy people) that roam the streets of my town. this man is particularly interesting because he is the brother of the chef and is said to have been turned crazy by sorcery. he wanders around ranting, writing gibberish on walls and leaving pieces of tattered clothing in his wake. he has tried to poke/trip me with his stick before so i make sure i cross the street if i see him coming my way.
today, as i am walking, i see something rather unusual. coming towards me is a man pedalling something that looks like one of those old, three-wheeled, ice cream vehicals. however, instead of selling ice cream, this man is pushing propaganda. he has a bullhorn and is shouting things through it. arching above his head is a sign that proclaims: "homosexuality: the abomination of the century." i stop for a minute. i don't even know how to deal with this. do nothing, bien sur. homosexuality is very illegal in cameroon, although paradoxically men walk down the street holding hands and it's not weird at all. i keep walking, saying a silent prayer for all of the brave souls that have chosen to volunteer in cameroon despite their sexual preferences.
when i finally get to the bank, it's just in time for the credit comittee meeting. when i mean just in time, i mean i'm about a half an hour late. however, i am still the first one there after my counterpart who has to be there because he has other work to do. however, instead of waiting around for the PCA and the rest of the members to show up, i'm dragged aside by the vice president. one day previously, a huge rockslide completely destroyed a large chunk of the highway about 30 kilometers away... the only real route that exists between Bafoussam and Douala that is widely used to truck goods from Douala inward. the vice president wants to know if i want to go see the damage. being a closet rubber-necker, i can't say no.
upon arriving at the site, dozens of young men surround the car. "i'll carry you across on my back!" "rent these boots! you'll get your shoes dirty!" "rent this walking stick, you don't want to slip!" this disaster has at least created the opportunity for some make-shift employment opportunities. it took a lot of firm insisting to convince them that we were just looking. the road is completely shattered, reminding me of "where the sidewalk ends". you can't even see where is starts up again. where it ends, there is a river of soil with uprooted trees strewn precariously through. despite the inability to drive across, people still need to commute so they are hiking over the slide. i see a smashed house and wonder if anyone died. apparently one old woman is missing, but no one other than that. people hypothosize that with bureaucratic stagnation and lack of funds that it will take several years to fix. as they say, on va faire comment?
when we finally get back to the bank, the PCA is already there. we are almost two hours late, but c'est normal. the meeting goes on for almost four hours after that. i zone out completely in the fourth hour, as my stomach is starting to eat itself and i can no longer concentrate on any french. when the meeting finally ends, the only woman on the council brings out the food that they serve after every meeting: grilled chicken with plantains and poulet DG. it is delicious, and i actually pick a good piece of chicken this time. usually, i don't look hard enough and get stuck with some questionable part. everyone drinks a beer, then all of the council members are paid 10 mille francs (20 dollars) for being there. dontcha worry, i attend for free! i'm not sure how much we actually accomplished during the meeting, but i'm ready for a nap. if i feel motivated, i may stop by the market of the internet cafe, but usually i head home and read and think about what i'm going to cook for dinner and dream about all of my plans for the future involving amazingly successful projects and people that listen and are motivated and honest. this future has been seeming a lot closer lately.
and the time passes.
when i finally drag myself out of bed, i start boiling water for my daily coffee, oatmeal, and warm bucket bath. although i have a shower, it only has cold water and i'd rather squat on the floor and pour water over myself than suffer the sub-zero torrential rain. i do not want to be that awake.
the hardest part of my day is leaving the house, because walking to work means walking through the center of town, being called la blanche or ndoc or wat or baby at leat 15 times and dodging motos, sludge-filled ditches and crazy stick man.
crazy stick man is one of the regular fous (crazy people) that roam the streets of my town. this man is particularly interesting because he is the brother of the chef and is said to have been turned crazy by sorcery. he wanders around ranting, writing gibberish on walls and leaving pieces of tattered clothing in his wake. he has tried to poke/trip me with his stick before so i make sure i cross the street if i see him coming my way.
today, as i am walking, i see something rather unusual. coming towards me is a man pedalling something that looks like one of those old, three-wheeled, ice cream vehicals. however, instead of selling ice cream, this man is pushing propaganda. he has a bullhorn and is shouting things through it. arching above his head is a sign that proclaims: "homosexuality: the abomination of the century." i stop for a minute. i don't even know how to deal with this. do nothing, bien sur. homosexuality is very illegal in cameroon, although paradoxically men walk down the street holding hands and it's not weird at all. i keep walking, saying a silent prayer for all of the brave souls that have chosen to volunteer in cameroon despite their sexual preferences.
when i finally get to the bank, it's just in time for the credit comittee meeting. when i mean just in time, i mean i'm about a half an hour late. however, i am still the first one there after my counterpart who has to be there because he has other work to do. however, instead of waiting around for the PCA and the rest of the members to show up, i'm dragged aside by the vice president. one day previously, a huge rockslide completely destroyed a large chunk of the highway about 30 kilometers away... the only real route that exists between Bafoussam and Douala that is widely used to truck goods from Douala inward. the vice president wants to know if i want to go see the damage. being a closet rubber-necker, i can't say no.
upon arriving at the site, dozens of young men surround the car. "i'll carry you across on my back!" "rent these boots! you'll get your shoes dirty!" "rent this walking stick, you don't want to slip!" this disaster has at least created the opportunity for some make-shift employment opportunities. it took a lot of firm insisting to convince them that we were just looking. the road is completely shattered, reminding me of "where the sidewalk ends". you can't even see where is starts up again. where it ends, there is a river of soil with uprooted trees strewn precariously through. despite the inability to drive across, people still need to commute so they are hiking over the slide. i see a smashed house and wonder if anyone died. apparently one old woman is missing, but no one other than that. people hypothosize that with bureaucratic stagnation and lack of funds that it will take several years to fix. as they say, on va faire comment?
when we finally get back to the bank, the PCA is already there. we are almost two hours late, but c'est normal. the meeting goes on for almost four hours after that. i zone out completely in the fourth hour, as my stomach is starting to eat itself and i can no longer concentrate on any french. when the meeting finally ends, the only woman on the council brings out the food that they serve after every meeting: grilled chicken with plantains and poulet DG. it is delicious, and i actually pick a good piece of chicken this time. usually, i don't look hard enough and get stuck with some questionable part. everyone drinks a beer, then all of the council members are paid 10 mille francs (20 dollars) for being there. dontcha worry, i attend for free! i'm not sure how much we actually accomplished during the meeting, but i'm ready for a nap. if i feel motivated, i may stop by the market of the internet cafe, but usually i head home and read and think about what i'm going to cook for dinner and dream about all of my plans for the future involving amazingly successful projects and people that listen and are motivated and honest. this future has been seeming a lot closer lately.
and the time passes.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
bank drama continues
and the time passes.
my bank situation is still in limbo. what has been my biggest frustration to overcome is the vagueness surrounding everything and everyone involved. after catching a serendipitous free ride with the president of the council of elders, i also realized the lack of right and wrong surrounding this issue in general. i do not like the president of the council of administration, but a lot of people in my town do. i know that i don't like him because he kind of reminds me of a certain star wars character, but i also have a natural aversion to what he is trying to do at the bank because i am american and was brought up on the ideas that democracy and fairness are the best schools of thought around. in a world where democracy operates perfectly, this man would be ousted and they would find someone else to replace him. unfortunately, things are not that simple. anyone from my town who replaced this man would, in fact, end up doing exactly what he told them to do. here in cameroon, people show deference to their chefs, especially if they are chefs that seem to own half the town (and most of the bank).
i had a realization the other day when i was listening to this man sell his intense propaganda to a very receptive audience. what people don't realize is that dictators and other unsavory characters who we would like to think have no souls and are a perfect picture of pure evil are exactly like us. they are clumsy, they get colds, they burn their mouths on hot coffee, they doubt themselves, they miss people, they spill on themselves. in short, they have moments of weakness. it is so much easier to hate people if we don't have to see them face to face. even something we may consider to be pure evil retains aspects of humanity. the problem is, using this humanity and powerful rhetoric, these people can easily make other people agree with them. it is only later, when the media in a far off land paints them as that perfect picture of evil that we wonder, how was anyone ever convinced? now, really, i have gotten carried away and am more thinking about sociopathic, murderous dictators than small town chefs that don't subscribe to democracy and justice, but being carried away by a charismatic person remains in both cases.
so while i wait for something concrete (anything, really) to manifest at the bank, i try to think of work i can do that will not directly help the ones abusing power. i've started investigating some NGOs and i was thinking of doing a computer skills class with the staff of the bank and whoever else is interested. i'm trying to stay strong and it is mostly working. it's funny. i think i have it figured out every night, and every morning i wake up and i feel awful and vulnerable and like i can't remember why i'm here. i don't know why that happens. i need these good feelings to make their way through the night!
this blog is intense. next time i'm writing about food.
my bank situation is still in limbo. what has been my biggest frustration to overcome is the vagueness surrounding everything and everyone involved. after catching a serendipitous free ride with the president of the council of elders, i also realized the lack of right and wrong surrounding this issue in general. i do not like the president of the council of administration, but a lot of people in my town do. i know that i don't like him because he kind of reminds me of a certain star wars character, but i also have a natural aversion to what he is trying to do at the bank because i am american and was brought up on the ideas that democracy and fairness are the best schools of thought around. in a world where democracy operates perfectly, this man would be ousted and they would find someone else to replace him. unfortunately, things are not that simple. anyone from my town who replaced this man would, in fact, end up doing exactly what he told them to do. here in cameroon, people show deference to their chefs, especially if they are chefs that seem to own half the town (and most of the bank).
i had a realization the other day when i was listening to this man sell his intense propaganda to a very receptive audience. what people don't realize is that dictators and other unsavory characters who we would like to think have no souls and are a perfect picture of pure evil are exactly like us. they are clumsy, they get colds, they burn their mouths on hot coffee, they doubt themselves, they miss people, they spill on themselves. in short, they have moments of weakness. it is so much easier to hate people if we don't have to see them face to face. even something we may consider to be pure evil retains aspects of humanity. the problem is, using this humanity and powerful rhetoric, these people can easily make other people agree with them. it is only later, when the media in a far off land paints them as that perfect picture of evil that we wonder, how was anyone ever convinced? now, really, i have gotten carried away and am more thinking about sociopathic, murderous dictators than small town chefs that don't subscribe to democracy and justice, but being carried away by a charismatic person remains in both cases.
so while i wait for something concrete (anything, really) to manifest at the bank, i try to think of work i can do that will not directly help the ones abusing power. i've started investigating some NGOs and i was thinking of doing a computer skills class with the staff of the bank and whoever else is interested. i'm trying to stay strong and it is mostly working. it's funny. i think i have it figured out every night, and every morning i wake up and i feel awful and vulnerable and like i can't remember why i'm here. i don't know why that happens. i need these good feelings to make their way through the night!
this blog is intense. next time i'm writing about food.
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