The Non-Negotiables
What I have learned is that, in Cameroon, non-negotiables are always negotiable. At times, non-negotiables are not even negotiated… you just have to deal with it.
And so, when I sat on one of the more comfortable foam-padded chairs in the country and looked into the eyes of my formateurs and heard the words “sans electricite,” I knew that I was going to be okay. It was not because I didn’t cry or argue about the loss of easy computer use, bright lights or a the ability to charge my batteries, but that the non-negotiable was immediately ameliorated in my mind. Its good. It’s meant to be. It’s going to be romantic. It’s going to hard. It’s going to incredibly annoying, and probably scary sometimes. But it’s great. It’s FINE.
You have to be able to change your mind in Cameroon, because the rules and ideas are as shifty here as the winds off the Sahara in mid-November (which have shifted, I think. We are in dry season).
Woo. So, bottom line--- I’m living in a very small but very large village in the North-West Province for the next two years. It’s very small because I wont have too many neighbors. It’s very large because I might need a horse to take me to meet all of my farmers. I’m about 35 km outside of the provincial capital of Bamenda, 35 windy, mountainous kilometers. There is a valley near my house that has a lot of bananas. There are farmers and there are grazers, and there are issues needing some third-party attention. My house, provided by the community, is without electricity and without running water. My water will have to be carried from nearby streams.
Like I said. This is a bottom line in Cameroon. Adaptation is quite a thing. I leave for Ambukfungdo on Saturday to spend the week orientating myself to the area, and will be back Friday. Look for a post in two weekends detailing my first solo experience here in Cameroon. And if you’re the praying kind, well :)
And so, when I sat on one of the more comfortable foam-padded chairs in the country and looked into the eyes of my formateurs and heard the words “sans electricite,” I knew that I was going to be okay. It was not because I didn’t cry or argue about the loss of easy computer use, bright lights or a the ability to charge my batteries, but that the non-negotiable was immediately ameliorated in my mind. Its good. It’s meant to be. It’s going to be romantic. It’s going to hard. It’s going to incredibly annoying, and probably scary sometimes. But it’s great. It’s FINE.
You have to be able to change your mind in Cameroon, because the rules and ideas are as shifty here as the winds off the Sahara in mid-November (which have shifted, I think. We are in dry season).
Woo. So, bottom line--- I’m living in a very small but very large village in the North-West Province for the next two years. It’s very small because I wont have too many neighbors. It’s very large because I might need a horse to take me to meet all of my farmers. I’m about 35 km outside of the provincial capital of Bamenda, 35 windy, mountainous kilometers. There is a valley near my house that has a lot of bananas. There are farmers and there are grazers, and there are issues needing some third-party attention. My house, provided by the community, is without electricity and without running water. My water will have to be carried from nearby streams.
Like I said. This is a bottom line in Cameroon. Adaptation is quite a thing. I leave for Ambukfungdo on Saturday to spend the week orientating myself to the area, and will be back Friday. Look for a post in two weekends detailing my first solo experience here in Cameroon. And if you’re the praying kind, well :)
posted by K at 12:53 PM
1 Comments:
im proud of my big sister and miss her very much.
p.s. your guitar sounds great
wink wink
Post a Comment
<< Home