November 27, 2013 Wow, I don’t know where to start. What an adventure. It has been quite the adjustment, again. It is difficult to explain where I am living, what life is like, and how different it is from the States. After training in Bafia, with 54 other Americans in the same boat, being shipped off to post alone is a shock. Now, I am in Mayo-Darlé in the Grand North of Cameroon. It is in the Adamoua region, a few miles away from the Nigerian border. Don’t worry; apparently we are far away from any of the Nigerian drama. Although, I’ll admit I was worried and still am. Mayo-Darlé is a small town, maybe large village, with about 6-8,000 people. It is hard to tell if that is the town or the entire area, including surrounding villages. So far, everyone has been very nice and welcoming. I’ve only been bothered by a couple people asking me for something. The kids in my neighborhood already know my name, love coming in my house, even if I’m just sitting there in silence and darkness. If I am cleaning, they come in and take the “broom” (lots of thin sticks gathered together with a rubber string) out of my hands and finish sweeping. They do a better job than I can, so I just say “Merci” and let them go. No matter their age or gender, they are definitely less scared than I am of bugs, so that is another plus when cleaning. My house is pretty nice, just needs a good scrubbing. It is solid concrete with a tin roof and a thick tablecloth-like-material as the ceiling. The ceiling is a little disconcerting because it sags a lot; God only knows what is weighing it down. The nails that hold the ceiling up are coming out of the concrete walls and bugs peak out of the crack, both dead and alive. There are three windows in my house. The two bigger ones are about 2’ by 2’ and the other maybe half that. It is pretty dark in here since there is only electricity from 6:30 – 10:30 pm. Since I am replacing a volunteer, there is quite a bit of furniture. I have a couch, some comfy chairs, a table, a bed, some bookshelves, an armoire, a desk, and shelf for dishes. I have an indoor latrine (a hole in the floor) for my bathroom and shower. It will take some getting used to. My kitchen is off the entryway with a tank of gas and a cook top stove. Similar to what one might take camping in Montana, just nicer (it was one of my splurges in the city). I live in a compound area, or maybe neighborhood is more appropriate, I honestly don’t know. All the people are very sweet. Behind my house is a small garbage pit area where we burn the trash. The exception is the kids go through my trash, either before, during, or after I am burning it. Let me tell you it makes me feel very wasteful. I’ve never found more truth to the saying “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” or whatever it is. I’d be happy to give it to them, but I don’t want to create any fights among the kids or set any type of precedence that the American will give them things all the time. Just down the hill from my house, there’s a pretty big river. I’m not sure of the name, it sounds like Marigold without the ‘d’ but that’s probably just my lack of French and Fulfulde skills. I washed my dishes in it twice now, with the instruction and help of the neighbor kids. Apparently I shouldn’t be doing that since the river is used for everything you can think of and I can get some sort of disease from it. So far, so good. I’m on the lookout for any symptoms though. I guess next time I will use the well water. Although, I got to say, it was kind of nice, hanging out and talking with the kids, washing dishes in a river. When I arrived (Sunday, November 24) I was very nervous about carrying and transporting all my stuff. However, I only ever had to carry a couple bags out of all my stuff. Everyone who was around helped me every time I had to move it. I spent a couple days in the city of Bafoussam, where I’ll go for banking (and maybe internet) once a month. From Bafoussam, I took a small bus to Mayo-Darlé. There were 19 official seats, but there were probably 28 people in the bus, a mix of adults, children, and babies (not to mention the chickens and chickadees). It left about 3 hours late, which no one seemed to think was odd. After we were all crammed in we had to stop for gas, and then another stop to fill up the tires. Throughout the trip there were multiple police checkpoints. It was uncomfortable after an hour, but after 8 hours it was painful. My butt fell asleep, my shoulder was rubbing on the metal and I actually thought we might tip over or hit a moto since the road is comparable to a back wood mountain road in Montana. When we arrived in a nearby town, it was dark out and some guy came up to me and said in French, “Nasara, get in that car over there” (Nasara is the Fulfulde version of la blanche, I actually don’t mind it as much). I tried to tell him in broken French, thanks but I will stay on the bus. Eventually, I find out the driver decided the trip was done for the night. There were about 10 of us, with our stuff, that had to continue to Mayo-Darlé. No worries though, 10 people can fit in a compact 2-door car here. There were 4 adults (including the driver) in the front seat area with one young boy. Yep, there were two grown men sitting in the driver’s seat. I’m not positive but there were at least 5 people in the back seat area. I was graciously given the front seat, but again, not super comfortable for the hour journey at mock speed on a bumpy dirt road. The driver never slowed down, even when we were driving through other towns and there were mobs of people on the road. He would simply slam on the horn and hope people moved in time – no, expected people to move in time. Pedestrian rights are non-existent here, along with the enforcement of traffic laws. I could not have been more relieved to reach Mayo-Darlé. I saw my community host as I opened the door. He is the person I met back in training, who will show me around the community, introduce me to the authorities and work with me on projects. After that short hello with a familiar face, a man came up and said “Hello, Nasara” and then told me he would take me to Sarah, the girl I’m replacing who left the following morning for the close of her Peace Corps Service. Going against 27 years of common sense, I simply grabbed my backpack and got in his car. Five minutes later I was at Sarah’s house, now my house, safe and sound. It was a wild day.