One Year

It has been one year since coming back to the states. I miss Cameroon enormously, am frustrated with the difficulties associated with communication with my friends back in Bafut and am eager to go back to visit.

I've decided to pursue a night program at the University of Colorado here in Colorado Springs to get my masters in business administration. I'm not quite sure what it will translate into, but I'm hoping it will give me some tools to get back to Cameroon, and with experience and knowledge that might be more appropriate to its bubbling-up economy. We'll see how I'm seeing things after two semesters of accounting.

I'm still working at the television station, learning to sell television airtime and Internet ad space. I've screwed up a lot, failed more than that, and it doesn't help that we've entered utter economic turmoil. Despite all, I have the feeling that I'm getting the knack of it. It's becoming more exciting and rewarding with each trial (and error).

I've also learned a few things about perspectives since returning. Some Cameroonians I've met haven't received me as well as I'd of hoped, not understanding or trusting some of the descriptions of my many experiences. I've been accused of lying and exaggerating, and have heard the word "slander" on several occasions. I feel like I've been sort of disowned, cast-off as a foolish American who spins defamatory tales willy-nilly.

Of course, I don't believe that is entirely the case. I adore Cameroon, its people, its geography, its potential, its fantastic folklore, music and magic. I am critical of many things, but my overall remembrance of the country is positive.

I received a hard lesson in politics. I simply hadn't imagined needing prudence because of the commonalities my friends from Cameroon would share with me. Of course, they being in the US and having lived in Cameroon, would understand my perspective.

I also, fresh off the plane from possibly the most consequential two years of my life, failed to remember that I hardly compared to Cameroonian immigrant in America. Two years was not an entire childhood in Cameroon, raised through economic crashes of the coffee and cocoa sectors, followed by years of hard work in the US, paying for school with night jobs, working tirelessly to rise up the ladder with little to no help from family back home. After all of that, whats the need of reminiscing or debating with an American who farmed with your grandmother a few times?

Furthermore, what do I know? What sort of bias and misinterpretations could I be loudly talking about? I've not had any journalistic training... what am I missing in my storytelling? Perhaps something, perhaps nothing. In any respect, I'm taking a closer look at what pictures of Cameroon I have in my head, and how they might be wrong, to the extent of being hurtful. For anyone that I've significantly offended, I apologize, I never meant to.

So, I've learned to be a bit more respectful and not so hasty with my ex-patriated friends (unfortunately, too late for a few of them). I would highly recommend this tactic for any returning volunteers... things are not as uncomplicated as they seem.

Otherwise, things are going well. There's a lot to look forward to and Colorado is fun.

Seven Months or So...

Mt Cameroon

Seven months after leaving Cameroon in an avalanche of confusing emotions, and I'm already ready to return.

That's right, I'm plotting my visit. I say plotting not because its going to be a secret event, but because I need to correspond the trip with as many holidays acceptable by my place of business with my sparse (though average) number of vacation days. It wont happen until 2009.

And why? How?

When i first landed back in the US, i faced a steady and fairly overwhelming number of questions, and one frequently asked was "do you miss it?".

And my unabashed answer was a full throated "no," oftentimes followed by a shake of my head and "absolutely not."

It's true. The stress of my return was overwhelming (how can one be stressed sitting on her parents couch, eating Chinese food nightly without tarantulas is anybody's guess.... Perhaps Africa really does do something to people). Someday my folks will get a proper thank you.

I needed to find a job. I needed to get a car. Clothes were a problem at first (mumus and dirty flip flops? Not in October.). I needed to leave the condo/nest. I needed to figure things out that i had put off for awhile (like 2 years). I needed to remember things that I liked and didn't like (hate vacuuming, love sitting on carpet). I needed to re-acclimate to dairy. I wanted to know whether i had a story to tell. And all of these things had a very obvious start date, somewhere around October 2nd or 3rd, whenever the plane touched down at O'Hare.

At least it seemed that way. In reality, my life included no more decision making than it normally did... it was just that the decisions came with the self-imposed poignancy of a RPCV with no plans and no way to process what had just happened.

So I made some plans... and some of them didn't work out, and some of them did.

I got a job with a television station as a researcher, and then I got a bigger job at the same television station after a few months. And before that I moved to Colorado. And after that I decided I would actually try and enjoy my time in Colorado, rather that complain about the lack of culture and overabundance of hippies, crazy Christians, shampoos, military presence and meth. And in doing that, I've come to remember what American culture can be.. and that it oftentimes has its own richness, however buried it seems to be.

This message is getting sappy.

I'm enjoying movies and music. I missed American food terribly, but now i remember that I can't eat half of it, and a good portion of it is crappy, and so it doesn't seem like it was worth missing. The mountains are gorgeous, and its nice to have good friends so close by that understand depth of humor and sarcasm.

Running downtown in Colorado Springs, I noticed a black guy that looked familiar to me. After hearing he had an accent, I asked him where he was from. He sort of despairingly answered "Cameroon" (apparently, he gets that question a lot. I believe my jumping up and down (while running) might have improved the outlook of the conversation), and with further questioning, we found that his grandmother lives absurdly close to where I lived in Bafut. In fact, he is a Bafut man, and grew up one quarter over. That was a surprising Tuesday. He's very encouraging of the wearing of brighter colors and grilled meat, and we hang out.

And everything has settled down. Its nice to breathe again and feel like things are moving in some kind of direction. The sadness of leaving started to creep in around two and a half months ago. Its lessened by the fact that Cameroon isn't so far away, what with cell phones and internet. My host family recently had another baby and named it after me. Maa Marie calls to greet. My friend and supervisor in Cameroon had a baby with his new wife, and they got the baby things I sent. E sent me an email to ask for money. Maurine sent a picture of Kesty.

But there are no plums here. There are no misty clouds hanging over the palm trees in the morning time, and no deluges pounding on my zinc roof. No people "kwan kwan'king" on my front porch in the afternoon, and no children's fingers under the door, begging for cookies from "Auntie Rose". And I can't have a beer around lunch time and feel okay about it, or hop in a taxi to get somewhere for 20 cents. And people just aren't as friendly, or as superstitious or as interesting as in Cameroon. And there's no palm wine.

But it is still there. Its so weird that things don't just vaporize when I leave them. It's still there! And it wasn't all a weird dream (I wont get into a mephlaquin rant). So I have nothing to worry about, really... except getting hit by a bus, or some equivalent to that. Even then, I think i'll not wait too long... maybe a year or two. I think there are more adventures to come, so look forward to more subjective internationally-based blogs down the line. Here are some photos of my days since the plane touched down.

First hours back.

Kentucky Derby.


Paddock at Churchill Downs.

Denver.

A Bafut man who skis. There's no word in the dialect for "snow".


Bratwurst in the fridge in Chicago.

Family at the Oktoberfest party.


My namesake "Siyou Kelsey" and host mama.

My host papa Jean... it appears he got to go on a boat.

Bye Bye

Getting my fancy Peace Corps pin. I'm now an RPCV.




Due to some circumstances outside of my control (or somewhere deep in my conscience), I am leaving Cameroon today... a bit early. Not without all the regalia of "gonging out," though.



It's been fantastic. I'll be back.

After two beers a few weeks ago, I invited Maa Marie and 10 of her family members to the fancy Dreamland restaurant. I figured she would invite family that I knew, and that we probably wouldn't reach up to 10. She made sure to fill the quota, though.... and surpassed the 1 plate of food, 1 beer limit. 50,000 francs later (100 dollars or so) everyone seemed to be having a really, really good time. In this country, you pay for your own send-off.

Pretty, pretty cameroon

My mom, after seeing the photo that included the car full of corn, realized that I have never really illustrated Cameroon on a large scale... I think she saw the clouds in the background and mistook them as mountains. So I guess that my blog is lacking in scenery photos and what-not. This is partially due to the fact that the scenery in my immediate area is beautiful, but... I live here, I guess. Not that interested in shooting photos when I walk to get my tomatoes, not to mention showing everyone in my vicinity that I have a shiny camera. In moving around the NW province, I have largely travelled inside 2-door toyota corollas packed to capacity with 8-9 people and enough cargo to turn the hatch-back into an exhaust-catch. I tend to find that the scenery is not beautiful at all when my neighbors armpit is raining on my shoulder and i cant see through the window because the right windshield wiper fell off and was never replaced (really, how necessary is it to have both?).

But lately, knowing that my work (my fine fine work) is coming to a close, I have done my best to take some photos despite the circumstances. So, here is a smattering of Northwest province photos. It really is beautiful. If only it had roads. And jobs.

This was a big guy... probably 3 inches long in his body with equal sized antennea. Just moseying along a cable line next to the balcony where we ate. It's not really scenery, but you can see that there are hills surrounding Bamenda in the background.

Hill with nubbin.

Again, not scenery. But cute. The baby is getting "baba," or strapped to his mama's back with a piece of fabric (or sometimes a towel). I would like it except that babies here tend not to be diapered.

The mountains and valleys on the kumbo side of the plain. The whitish spots are the rain falling and making the grasses oh-so-green.

We had to take an hour and a half detour so the driver wouldn't have to pay at a "mixed control".... it seems he had none of his "books" and it would have been expensive. But I got to walk a bit in the beautiful countryside near Reese's old post.

This waterfall is just up near Sabga, about 35 minutes from Bamenda.

This is coming down the hills of Jakiri, where the foulani people raise cattle and horses. It's a spectacular view, especially in the wet season when you can see all the rain falling. You have to cross that big plain below to reach Bamenda, and the entire road is unpaved. Its.... really muddy.

The road just after Sabga hill, a decent (though steep) portion of the road to Kumbo, which I travelled many, many times.

A waterfall near Sabga. Some of them are really roaring.

Thats my house... hills in the background and the cocoyam/plantain farms in the foreground.

A big storm moving in over the Bafut palace.

Small Small, No Be Sick

This car was coming from the farm, I suppose. It's full of corn!

This moth was almost as big as Kate's hand. It was really big. She touched it.

I did not touch it because it had these alien stingers. I'm sure they were stingers.

I'm sure that Africa is not the leader among natural medicines. I would guess that that would be china (since many Cameroonian medicine stores sell chinese teas and chinese-processed things). But the Africans are serious believers in most natural medicines (at at times very distrustful of Western medicines). This can be great, in the case of some properly manufactured concoctions (and decococtions), the likes of which we produced during my medicinal plant workshop this past June. But it can be obnoxious and possibly very damaging (as is the case of the "shiny shiny" powder sold on the busses going to Yaounde or other weird medicines sold off the top of people's heads). Furthermore, since a lot of things can be produced locally, its likely there are a lot of people getting duped. You'll see guys pulling up with their car and hawking curative venereal medication from the trunk, saying they can cure HIV and talking through a bullhorn (these are not my favorite people). I guess you just don't know who to trust, and nobody is prepared to say they can't cure something. I'm therefore not big on purchasing these sorts of remedies...

But then theres white cat. White cat, or "small small, no be sick" is a little tin of balm that you can use on/in just about anything. I had heard about the use of small small no be sick before, but had never bought it with any seriousness. Recently, i've been having some sinus problems (either that, or brain worms... i'm not sure). Bought some, placed it around my nose, and voila.... instant cool healing power of the white cat. Amazing! So, brain worms down, I'm now going to try in on cuts and scrapes, scars, dry eyes and ear aches. Really, its just cheap vicks vapor rub in a little tin... but they changed the name and sell it off the tops of their heads, and therefore it seems more like an obscure local medicine to me. I can take orders now if you want to try. I'll need to buy a bullhorn.

COS conference

The COS conference (COS=close of service) is a time for all we PCV's to learn how to write a resume and spend one last time all together as one. We got to hang out with monkeys and eat breakfast, lunch and dinner for free and sleep on spring mattresses for a few nights. Photos...

The road to Yaounde. People like to come on the bus and sell medicine called "shiny shiny" that is supposed to clean your teeth. We believe it may be finely ground rocks. This man nearly beat me when he thought i was taking his picture.

Ally and I in the Country Director (of PC Cameroon)'s mansion-like home. It has hot water, for goodness sake. And see... I got to brush my hair.

Charles and I planned matching sassy outfits.

The balcony of my hotel room at the Mont Febe hotel. That is the village of Yaounde in the background.

Walking through the wildlife reserve. Gorillas live here.... and TONS of catapillars.

This one was really really fast.

I wanted to pet him, but my flesh would probably burn off. I'm thinking of putting together a line of "alternative stuffed animals" to sell to children. Piglet squids and catapillars of West Africa.

Not-so-fuzzy.

Good halloween costume.

Baby gorilla in gorilla juvy.

We were so close to this lady, we could have shaken hands. If it hadn't been for all of the throwing of sticks and rocks and running of the huge gorilla-ness, I might have tried.

Close enough to punch. They are rascals.


My COS date has become officially booked. And I am not coming home married to a Cameroonian... my dad was so sure that was going to happen. I guess there is still a bit of time.

"The prince enjoyed a health remarkable even among princes; by means of gymnastics and good care of his body, he had attained to such strength that, despite the intemperance with which he gave himself up to pleasure, he was as fresh as a big, green, waxy Dutch cucumber." -From my current entertainment in Cameroon, Leo Tolstoy's "Anna Karenina"

Here are some other glimpses into my day to day life in the last months of the Peace Corps experience...

Mami only had two teeth on the bottom. She wanted me to pay her for this shot. I did not.

The doorway of the Catholic juju house. Its probably one of the few religions in Cameroon that would go along with something like this. Inside they drink fermented tree juice from cow horns.

You might think these kids were looking at me because i had a camera. In fact, they stared the whole time. This is the interior of a Cameroon classroom in a village in the Northwest. Children of America... consider yourself very lucky and eat your peas.

This is one of the finest moto drivers in the NW. Notice the stereo system he has connected near where his feet should go. He goes just fast enough to give you that stomach feeling, but then it goes away.

I would seriously consider coming back to Africa JUST to weigh babies and wear a lab coat. This one wanted to see me very well.

This health center is run by a fantastic "doctor" who makes 10$ a month. He delivers babies, makes sure women have good nutrition and distributes medicines. See? There still are good people in the world. And babies. This one was in a very healthy weight range.

Doing a soy (soya) milk recipe with the ladies of the health center. Did you know one kilo of soy is equal to 3 kilos of cow meat? Meat is 1200 a kilo. At 350 for a kilo of soy, its a fabulous alternative. Don't I look ridiculous?

Grinding the soy beans.

Straining the milk through a clean cloth. Test tasting came after. Lots of "AB-AHYE!"s. The ladies really enjoyed their liquid meat.

Update...

Here is a photo of Reese's spider bite.