Ok, wanted to get up just a few pictures from swearing in:

All of the Extreme North group!

Me and Emily!! She lives in Mokolo, the closest biggest city to me.

Julia and Me and David, our training director.

I am officially a volunteer!! Yay! So actually, I have been a volunteer for about 10 days, but my internet access has been non-existent since before the end of training. My apologies… but I’m here now with some updates.

I swore with the rest of my training class on August 18^th in Bafia. We all had outfits made from the same matching pagne (material)! We had a ceremony with a bunch of Cameroonian and Peace Corps “grands” (i.e. important people) and then we had an awesome lunch to thank our host families. I said goodbye to my host family that night :( it was sad, but I knew I’ll see them again soon. So we new volunteers had a bit of bash at a local hotel in Bafia, and set out to leave for post the next morning.

All of us volunteers heading up to the north of the country (12 of us) headed towards Yaoundé and then got the train up to Ngaoundere on Thursday night. We got into Ngaoundere early Friday morning where us Extreme North kids (8 of us) depot-ed a car just for us and all of our stuff (A TON of things, like a bike, a moto helmet, a bike helmet, a water filter, a giant trunk, a mammoth suitcase, a colossal hiker’s back-pack, and countless other odds and ends- and that was just MY stuff!!!) to Maroua. We got into Maroua, the regional capital of the Extreme North, and were able to relax for a little while. On Saturday, we attempted to do some shopping for groceries, furnishings for our houses, etc. It proved to be mildly fruitful. Maroua has an amazzzzzing market full of color and culture and almost anything your heart desires. Except for a gas tank. I was told it is impossible to find one of these treasures in all of Cameroon. I know for a fact this is a bold face lie. Why it is so necessary to my life to have a gas tank: I bought a stove, and by stove I mean one of those kind of collapsible things with two burners that you take camping and hook up a gas tank to it to cook. Obviously, the stove does not work without a gas tank. It is very difficult to cook without said gas, and right now, it is pretty necessary to be able to cook/boil water since there has been a Cholera outbreak in the Extreme North of Cameroon… No one panic! Cholera is easily avoidable if you wash your hands, bleach your vegetables, boil your water, etc. In fact, even if you do get it, it’s easily treatable with anti-biotics and re-hydration with NON-contaminated water. So I’ve been cooking over a wood fire until I can maybe, perhaps, hopefully, fingers crossed, find someone who will sell me a gas tank. Now, as some of you know, I looooove making fires. Fire building is one of my favorite pastimes, and I’ve been quite offended, in the past, by those who have suggested that I lacked the ability to produce this element. But I must admit, it is quite time and energy consuming to start and maintain a fire every time I want to boil some water. I have the time to do it now, but once school starts (September 6!!!), I’m not so sure I’ll have as much time to throw around. So here’s hoping (and praying and wishing and lobbying Paul Biya) that gas tank finds it’s way to me sooner rather than later.

Whew! That was a tangent! Ok, back to actually getting to Hina… So Sunday, Emily, Zach, two volunteers who are posted in Mokolo (a town about 50 kilometers north of me), and I depot-ed a car from Maroua to Mokolo. We dropped them off and then our driver, Alim, and I continued on to Hina. And we got there- alive, safe, and sound. But during the trip, there were definitely some instances were I doubted that would be the outcome! The problem is, there are no paved roads leading to Hina. This apparently is really not that big of a deal during the dry season, the roads are supposed to be pretty good and easily passable. But as soon as the rainy season rears its ugly head, the roads turn to mud, parts of them get completely washed out, and one begins to fear that their four-wheel-drive vehicle will get stuck in the mud/overturned in rushing water. But alas, I finally made it to Hina, unscathed, and moved all of my things in.

My house is pretty much cleaned, and I’m all the way unpacked! I’m trying to get my bearings and figure out how village life works. I’m pretty much waiting around for school to start, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself, since all of the school administration is still on vacation and won’t be back until probably a day or two until school starts. But I think this is a good thing, it will give me some time to explore and discover Hina before jumping into the scholastic side of things.

Some tidbits:

-I have a dog! His name is Zeus. I really have no idea what kind of dog he is, I’m sure a mutt of many different combination. But he is short haired, smaller than a lab but bigger than a terrier, and black with white legs with black spots. He likes to whine a lot :) but he is good for the most part and doesn’t bite and let’s me know when there is someone at my door!

- I’ve been attempting to speak Fufuldé with Hina locals… mainly it’s them saying something wayyyyy too fast, me smiling and nodding, then rambling off the ten words I know in the language, and the receiver feigning to be impressed by my butchering of their mother tongue. It’s great! As the Cameroonians say, petit à petit (little by little) it will come. And once I’ve mastered Fufuldé, I can move on to the other, smaller, language of Hinarre, that is only spoken in Hina by about 30,000 people in total (I think…)

-I negotiated my rent agreement and lease contract in a Fufuldé-French combination. I was a little too pleased with myself. :)

-I have three fig trees in my yard. They are blooming and soooooo good!

- up north, I have a new name. remember, in the south, we were called “les blanches?” here, it’s “nassara”- literally white person in fufuldé!

-Hina is in a valley that is surrounded by jagged mountains that look like mounds of boulders that have been glued together. since we are in the three seasons that constitute the rainy season (july, august, september), everything is vibrantly green. It is breathtaking. I’ll try to get some pictures up asap.

I know there is much more I’m forgetting but it will have to come in my next post. I’m hoping to get back to Maroua this weekend to search for that darned gas tank, and with any luck I’ll post this if I can find some internet there. Love everybody, miss everybody, and thinking about everyone allllll the time!!!

Some more Cameroon pictures

So, in Cameroon, most clothes are made for you by a tailor. Material, or pagne as the Cameroonians call it, is sold everywhere. You choose the material you want, take it to a tailor, tell them what style they want, et violà! you have a dress/pants/shirt/skirt/shorts/whatever your heart desires! So, in the above photo, this is me and my friend Claire. Yes, Claire. and we are wearing matching dresses (same style, same pagne). Oh, yeah, it's Claire pagne. and I have a feeling it's the first of many Claire pagne ensembles to come!

For Model School, we had clubs with the students every Wednesday. One of the clubs was called "Need for Speed," and it was a running club. Last Saturday, they organized a 5 k run. It was so fun! I had to take a picture of this kid, because he decided it was a great idea to take off his flip flops to run, and I guess he thought they would be most useful as forearm guards. maybe if he fell, they would mitigate scrapes??

A Cameroonian classroom! This is my Terminale class (high school seniors at home)

American Dinner!

I made an “American” dinner for my host family! They have asked me on multiple occasions what kind of food we eat in the United States. It’s a very frequent topic of conversation. And when I think about it, food directed many of the questions I’ve received from Americans about life in Cameroon. It makes sense- food is universal! We all need it to survive, and of course we’re curious about different cultures’ cuisines. Anyways, my host family has been quite inquisitive about what we Americans eat, and they asked me to cook American! I was trying to figure out what to make, given the availability of ingredients and the alien (to me!) cooking equipment here. So I ended up making macaroni and cheese, Grandma’s German potato salad, and cole slaw.

First of all, we must address the issue that, for some reason, cheese is nearly non-existent in this country. The only cheese one can find is “Vache qui rit.” Yes, that’s right- directly translated that is the “Cow who laughs,” or Laughing Cow cheese! So how you make macaroni and cheese Cameroonian style: cook pasta, add butter, powdered milk, water, Vache qui Rit (it kind of just dissolves into the pasta), and then as many spices as one deems necessary to make it edible (basil worked very nicely). You also need an experienced and skilled mixer, mine was in the form of Julia, my amazing friend and fellow TEFL volunteer who provided some much needed moral support during the cooking extravaganza.

Mom sent me Grandma’s German potato salad (because she’s awesome) and it turned out exactly like Grandma’s! (well, ok not exactly- I’m not sure that bacon exists here…) It was so surreal to see and smell the potato salad in Cameroon; it reminds me so much of home! It was cool to be able to recreate some little comforts of home even though I’m an ocean away. And then we made cole slaw- with carrots and cabbage!!!!!!!!! There are so many explanation points here because I (and I think most of the other volunteers) have not had any raw vegetables since being here. I’ve had cooked vegetables (I’m not that malnourished, yet!), put the Peace Corps medical officers did a pretty stellar job of terrifying us about the dangers of eating improperly cleaned/prepared fresh fruits and vegetables. But I soaked the veggies in a bleach/water combo and scrubbed them. And no one got sick! Yay!

So my family was pretty darn jazzed about this whole event. Some quotes:

Beatrice, my mom: “Oh my, it’s like we’re all in America tonight!”

Guy, my dad: “I know! Barack Obama and I are eating the same dinner tonight!”

Mimi, my five-year-old sister “Claire, the food is delicious! I’m practicing eating your food for when you take me back to the United States with you!” (she’s convinced I will take her home with me in two years…)

Vanessa, my oldest host sister: “So what are you making next week?? Le pizza?? Les hamburgers?”

Then their cousin who’s been visiting for the last two weeks (who is from the Anglophone part of the country, but for some reason only speaks Pidgin- a warped mélange of English and random Western African dialect) started impersonating “Americans.” This means he began talking in a very loud, somewhat haughty voice, saying things like, “Oh, I am American, I work all the time, all the time!” “I am busy, oh, very busy.” “I love McDonald’s! it is very nice!”

Evidently, it was quite hilarious, overall an entertaining (and cross-cultural! *read Peace Corps*) evening.

Some host family pictures!

Yup, they're gangsters.

Me, Fabiola, Batou, and Mimi- my youngest sister.

Parfait (yes that literally means Perfect) who is a cousin, Nora who is another cousin, Beatrice-my mom, Batou- my brother, Vanessa- my older sister, Fabiola- my younger sister (she's was thrilled to be alive at this particular moment..), and John- another cousin. I kept asking them to smile, put they weren't having it! apparently smiling in photos just isn't cool.

My Host brother, Ariel. He thinks he's a model. Look at that silk shirt (unbottoned, of course!) and that bling!!

Tu es là?

There are many small nuances to life and culture in Cameroon. I realized that many of them have now become commonplace to me. But I want to describe and detail them to you at home before I become too accustomed and forget how different and strange these little nuance are…

One of my favourite Cameroonian greetings:

When you see someone and you are first greeting them, you say “Tu es là?” which literally means “Are you there?” Then the person you asked answers, “Oui, je suis là.” Which means “Yes, I am here.” It’s just so funny to me because it’s so unnecessary. Obviously, that person is there, you’re looking at them! There are a lot of these greetings and saying in the Cameroonian French. They really like to point out the obvious, and spend a lot of time discussing/commenting on/dwelling on the blatantly evident aspects of life. Example: I get home to my host family’s and the first thing my father says to me is “Tu es là?” and of course, I answer “Oui, Guy, je suis là.”

Many times in Cameroonian life, there is a need to describe things with “beaucoup,” which means, “a lot.” i.e.: “there is A LOT of corruption in Cameroon,” or “there are A LOT of les blanches in Bafia now that all you Peace Corps volunteers here,” or “ .” there is a quirk here in Cameroon- they have a hand gesture that accompanies beaucoup! So almost every time they say beaucoup (usually to emphasize that there is many many many!) they make a fist with their right hand and take their left hand (palm out and facing down) and hit the top of their fist hand multiple times. that proved pretty difficult to explain via text. I wish I could show you, seeing the action is so much better…

One of my other favourite (yes, I am spelling everything the British way now, and using all British vocabulary, because the Cameroon educational system teachers British English, and that’s what their students are tested on, so that is what I am teaching- if the kids answer with “American English” on their nationwide exams, they will get the answer wrong!) sayings is “Nous sommes ensemble.” This is translated as “We are together.” Cameroonians use this a parting saying. So if you run into someone in the street, you have a little conversation about the weather and the health of their family, and when you part ways, one of you says “Nous sommes ensemble!” and the other answers, “Oui, Nous sommes ensemble!” The first time a Cameroon said this to me, he translated it into English. I didn’t realize at the time that this is simply a way to say goodbye, and thoroughly confused myself trying to comprehend what he meant. This saying is also used in the classroom frequently, usually when kids are talking/disturbing/not paying attention. The teacher asks, “Are we together?” and it is meant as a sort of rhetorical question and is simply a subtler way of telling the kids to shut up and listen.

Sachets! Ok, I heard rumors of this fact before coming, but now that I am here, I can verify its truth: many Cameroonians are alcoholics. Functioning alcoholics, but alcoholics nevertheless. You should see the size of the beer bottles here! Two American beers could fit inside one Cameroonian bottle easily. They also enjoy their palm wine… at anytime, including 8 o’clock I the morning. But it entertains me the most when they drink sachets. What are sachets? Well, sachets are square, sealed plastic bags. Full of liquor. Any type you want, vodka, whiskey, gin, rum, etc. There are probably about 4 or 5 ounces of liquid in each sachet, and you can buy one for 100 CFA (about 20 cents). Many people buy a few sachets and mix them in whatever soda or juice they are drinking, but those who are a bit more intense (like numerous moto drivers… safe??) like to just cut a small hole in the side of the sachet and drink their liquor straight, sort of juice box-style. When I first got here, I saw empty sachets littered all over the place. I was curious as to what they were, but I quickly deduced their contents after spotting a plethora of them outside the bar I pass walking to school everyday. Now I know, I and can steer clear of any moto drivers sucking on a plastic bag of questionable liquid!!

Some other news from in country (yes, this is what we say when referring to anything that happens here. yes, I know some of you have mocked me. no, I don’t care, and will continue to use this terminology.):

The Bananas Song has taken over Bafia!!! So last post I talked about how I had taught Bananas in class to my 5eme students. It REALLY caught on, and every time I see these students (in school or out) they start shouting “Peel, Peel Bananas/Eat, Eat Bananas/Go, Go Bananas!!” They have had other English teachers and have demanded to sing this song even when I’m not their teacher! My friend, Julia, another TEFL volunteer, taught it to her 3eme class, and now all the 3eme students are singing it! But it gets bigger. All of the 5eme and 3eme students have gone home and taught the Bananas song to their multiple siblings. So now countless children throughout Bafia know this song and I must hear 492 times a day. Walking almost anywhere I’m pretty much guaranteed to encounter it, and if I am ever eating a banana (which happens quite often, they are a staple in Bafia), it is certain some children will see me and begin chanting “Eat, Eat, Bananas!” But I haven’t gotten sick of the song yet. Not even a little bit :)

This week I’ve mainly been teaching the Terminale students (who are like our seniors in high school.) But I came in on Tuesday, and there were only three students in my class which usually has about 30! After a lot exciting French shouting, I realized that the Probatoire results had been posted. Probatoire is the nation-wide exam that is given after the Première year (like our junior year of high school) in the Francophone system. One must pass this test to continue on to the Terminale level. [There is also an exam after the Troisème year (like freshman year of high school) called le BEPC which must be passed to continue on to Seconde (like sophomore year of high school) and the BAC is the test that students take after Terminale and must pass to continue on to university. All these tests are commissioned by the government, written/graded by committee of teachers, and the same exact test is administered across the nation.] I think their system is crazy, complex, and ineffective. I simply doesn’t make sense to me to evaluate a student’s whole year of work based on one, two hour long test of arbitrary and ambiguous questions. Putting that much pressure and weight on one test isn’t logical. It sets the students up to fail. And fail they did- almost half my class didn’t pass the Probatoire, meaning they have to retake their whole première year. And this is why you’ll have students in Terminale who are older than I am. It’s a frustrating system, and heartbreaking to see the kids in tears, running home despondent and defeated. When I got home, I asked my host family about it and it sparked a huge debate about the inadequacies of the Cameroonian educational system. It ended as many discussions in Cameroon do, with the question “On va faire comment,” best translated as “What are you gonna do??” Maybe after a little more time here, I can come up with some answers to/suggestions for that question.

Well, I’m off to write an exam, next week is the last week of model school. The kids will take their tests on Friday, and then we’ll do lots of fun activities. More to come on that later. Miss you all and thinking about you! Nous sommes ensemble!

Me=teacher...?????

So… guess what?? I AM a teacher! This is a very new/foreign/bizarre assertion to make out loud. But I am now halfway through my second week of model school. There isn’t really anything “model” about this school; it’s pretty real. I am in a real Cameroonian school, with real Cameroonian students (and a large amount of those students, just like it will be in a real Cameroonian school), teaching from the real Cameroonian syllabus, with real Cameroonian textbooks. It’s crazy! The class I have taught the most is Cinquième, or our equivalent to seventh grade. They are… a handful. But they are certainly energetic and they keep me on my toes and they make me laugh a lot. Discipline is the big issue with these kids. Examples: they love hitting each other! I confiscated an old electrical cord one of my students had brought to class and was poking the girls in front of him with… one boy stole chalk from goodness knows where and started drawing on all the desks in the radius of his reach. Later, I was writing on the board, and I looked down and there was a child next to me pointing at the left side of his body. He was covered in chalk! The same kid had taken the commandeered piece of chalk and drawn all over the other child! They are obsessed with writing in their exercise books using red and blue pens (red to write the headings of activities/exercises, and blue to write the actual content) and rulers (or protractors or folded paper or other pens, anything that has a straight edge) to draw lines under headings, or fill in the blank lines or chart lines, etc. so stealing each others pens and rulers is a common practice. They all sit at benches that can comfortably seat two students. But they like to squeeze four or five to one of these benches and practically sit on top of each other (and then shove and elbow each to win some space). There is a class prefect, who is supposed to help the teacher discipline, take role, make sure the classroom is clean, etc. I would think this would totally be the kid who gets beat up after school behind the bleachers, but it’s actually the opposite- he’s very popular and relishes his role of enforcer. His favorite admonishment phrase is “Stop noise!” and another tactic is to appeal to me, with “Mada me, they are disturbing!!” ah, sometimes it’s pure chaos, and all you can do is laugh! Like I said, they definitely keep me on my game. I mean, these stories are just so ridiculous, all I can do is be entertained by them. What else can you do? What is probably more of a challenge than the discipline is the level of English of my students. The Cameroonian syllabus calls for teachers all across the country to teach a very specific level of English to each level. But the level it assumes my cinquième level students have attained is simply not reality for the majority of my students. What’s more, there is a monstrous gap in my class between a few students who can speak English very well and those who don’t understand a word that comes out of my mouth. How can I create lessons that instruct the lower level students on a plane that they can understand without boring my more advanced students out of their minds?? It is certainly a challenge, and one of the many reasons why the Cameroonian education system needs to evolve and grow and change. Just one of the many frustrations that comes with (attempting to bring about) development.

But there are some great moments to even out those annoyances/aggravations. Like I’ve taught the upper level classes, called première and terminale, which are the equivalent of juniors and seniors. They are soooo great. They are of course much better behaviour wise. In the one class, we had a discussion about different religious stereotypes! They discussed amongst themselves and talked about stereotypes that they know others have of their religion, and stereotypes they have of other’s religions. It was so great, they were hesitant at first, but they got really into it! The Cameroonian system is so structured and generally only allows for teachers to dump unmanageable amounts of information on their students. Most Cameroonian teachers simply lecture to their students, and there is never any room for discussion or generation of ideas or critical thinking. It’s terrible, many students can only regurgitate would has been ingrained into their heads, and they are terrified when asked to do anything in class besides take notes. Obviously, this is awful for teaching language. They need to speak to ever have a hope of being able to communicate in English. So it was super amazing to have them participate in and enjoy an activity where they actually got to speak and voice their opinions.

Another great moment, and this is especially for Puh’tok people: I have now taught all my classes the bananas song and the Penguin Attention! song!! I they freaking love them both. Forcing my students to sing camp songs is my way of channeling my longing and nostalgia for Puh’tok… next I may just start making them sing, “I wanna go back, where!?”

I was walking home with my friend, Julia, and we walked past a house where another volunteer lives. I think they are probably 8 or 9 children who live at this house, and we see them almost daily, as we pass their house on the walk home. They usually run out to greet us, but this day, they started running towards us, yelling “Madame Kihn! Madame Kihn! Madame Kihn!” I was so confused as to how they knew my name! It turns out their older sister is in my 5eme class. She had told her parents and siblings about me, and described well enough that the kids recognized me when I walked by the house! It was such a surreal and funny and rewarding moment.

Some other highlights:

- Fufuldé language learning has been going relatively swimmingly. We learned to count yesterday. Would you like to know how to say 999 in fufuldé? Because I can tell you! It’s “teeméré jowé nay e cappande jowé nay e jowé nay.” Yeah… I can’t wait to get to the market in Hina to test out my fufuldé counting skills!

- I went on my first shared moto ride (up until this point I’ve only been brave enough to ride with just me and the driver). I think I should have stuck with that rule. It’s very common in Cameroon to shove as many people/objects onto a moto as humanely possible. I have seen 5 full grown adults on a moto, and am waiting to top that record. But when Julia and I tried, we did not experience success… First of all, a moto can just barely fit two adults when they are of normal size. So, with the driver in front, me in the middle, and Julia in the back, all of our personal space bubbles were violated, actually, they were demolished into smithereens. One has to pretty much straddle the person in front of them to not fall off, and let’s just say, I was all up in this moto driver’s grill. So we were going to centre-ville (the center of town) to the super-marché (supermarket), but when we were almost there, we saw that the paved road had been blocked off because they were doing some construction. Our moto driver took the unpaved road. Unpaved road in Cameroon is synonymous with giant ditch. So it was quite treacherous, and all I could think was, “we are going to fall, there is no way we won’t fall off this moto.” And… surprise! He lost balance and the moto tipped over! We were completely fine, because the moto was almost completely stationary at this point, so we were able to kind of jump out of harm’s way. I don’t think either of us will be sharing any motos in the next two years!

- My host mother asked me what kind of cream I put on “tes taches” to treat them. Literally translated, tache is a spot. She was referring to my freckles. I had to explain that they were not a malady or skin ailment, but a part of my skin that I had been born with. It was pretty hilarious. I tried to explain that many Caucasian have freckles and it’s just part of our pigmentation. it was just so funny to me. I never thought I would need to explain freckles to someone!

There’s less than a month left of training, I can’t believe it! Time has flown by, but at the same time it seems like I’ve been here for months and months. Very soon it will be off to post, fingers crossed I can get myself and all my stuff there without too much of a challenge. Love and miss everyone terribly, thinking about all and hoping you’re all doing fantastic!!