December 26, 2013 Christmas has come and gone. It passed quietly and quickly. There was more electricity for Christmas Eve and Christmas. Instead of the electricity turning off at 10:30, it was on until 11-11:15 pm. That was pretty exciting. It sparked the night owl in me, though, and I stayed up way too late, long after the electricity was finished. Christmas lunch/dinner consisted of some rice from my neighbors. Then I had cookies, popcorn, tea, and homemade peanut butter for my own little “fête” (party) in my house, alone. I watched some “How I Met Your Mother” and “New Girl” and laughed out loud until the early morning as I pushed the thoughts of the cabin and family out of my mind. Sadly Santa didn’t find me. I hung out in the Marché (market) most of yesterday afternoon since Wednesday is market day in Mayo-Darlé. Every Wednesday Mayo-Darlé fills up with people from neighboring villages and nearby Nigeria. After some rice and conversation with my neighbor, I went to watch the end of a soccer game. Overall, a normal day here in Mayo-Darlé, except when I got home I called my family in 10 minute intervals for 50 cents each time and ate a lot of sweets. Christmas was too quiet and I missed my family. I woke up this morning, happy the day passed, but still sad I didn’t get to be with my family up at the cabin. Life is surely different here. Sometimes I just stop and think to myself, “Yep, this is life.” Today I thought it quite a few times. I woke up kind of late (for here anyways, like 9:30 am) and made some Nescafe. Decided I needed to stop listening to A Hometown Country Christmas. I switched up the music for the first time in a long time, maybe since I’ve been here. I was comfortable in my pajamas but reluctantly decided it was too late to be seen in my pajamas. I wiped my face off, sprayed my hair with dry shampoo and called it good. Yep, I’m lookin’ good. After getting dressed and opening the door to the usual crowd of kids, they came inside to hang out, draw, and speak Fulfulde. Since there is a break from school for the next week or so, the crowd is bigger than usual. My guy friends came over, kicked the kids out (sometimes a welcome part of other grown-ups coming over) and looked at photos with me. They were hungry so I offered them some food and tea (everyone drinks “chai” tea here despite it being 100 degrees). I prepared some eggs and they were appalled I didn’t have Maggi (cube of salt and other unknown things), tomatoes, and onions. They looked like they were struggling to get the eggs down. I couldn’t help to laugh and think of Megs telling me how to make things, making me meals, and laughing with me when I mess up meals back home. After a lot of laughing, joking, looking at photos, and speaking bad English and bad French I needed a break. I shut my door to kids saying, “Maureen, ouvre la porte” (open the door), made myself some more chai and read for who knows how long. Time is irrelevant, unless I have some sort of meeting to go to; I rarely wear and look at my watch. When I was ready for more socializing, I opened my door. Within minutes there were kids coming in and asking me what I was doing. I grabbed my garbage and gathered my dirty dishes and headed to my neighbors compound, where the well is. The group of kids helped me carry everything over there and one took my trash to the garbage pit area. I washed my dishes as the kids tried to get every little crumb of chocolate out of a cup and the now empty chocolate powder container. I couldn’t help but laugh, but also be a little worried since they were drinking well water. Then, I realized they don’t have a weak American stomach like I do and they will probably be just fine. After a few minutes, I noticed they were rinsing some carrots off. There were some carrots in my garbage sack. I thought they had gone bad after being gone for a few days. As they were munching away on the carrots I had long forgotten about, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I had thought those were done for and was being picky about the food in my kitchen. As I wash my dishes, I think about the carrots I threw away, all the food that goes to waste back home, and how fortunate I have been in my life. I feel grateful but also terribly guilty. The kiddos helped me finish my dishes. They grabbed some plastic sacks from the ground, balled them up in their hands, dipped it in the water, rubbed it against the soap and scrubbed my dishes with it. It was actually pretty resourceful but I was also thinking of all the germs on those sacks. When we finished washing dishes and carrying water to my house, I gave them each a sucker (thanks Mom – they love them) and sent them on their way as I warmed up the soup I made for Christmas Eve. There is no refrigeration here and there is no microwave here. I simply turned the gas stovetop on to heat up the leftover soup from Christmas Eve. I had covered it and left it for a day and a half. Usually this would mean the soup is meant for the trashcan but after that whole carrot session, I definitely wasn’t going to waste the soup. I also couldn’t help but think of my dad. I could hear him saying, “Ah, that’s fine. I’ll eat that” when my sisters, mom, or I go to throw expired/old food away back home. He has a good attitude about not wasting food that us girls always give him a hard time for. Now, I have nothing to say on that subject. As I’m sitting in my living room typing this, drinking tea, waiting for my bathwater to warm up, I notice a lot of activity in the corner where the spider lives (one of many). I get closer and see a very subdued wasp wriggling around in the web as the spider quickly wraps him up. I sit and watch for a while. Don’t worry; I took a video so I can show you the impressive work. Yep, I live with spiders working in all corners of my house, trying to pretend I don’t notice them. My neighbor comes and asks me for some of my hot water. My bath is now half the pot of water I started with. I decide I need to learn to conserve water anyway since we are entering the dry season. I take a bath with half a bucket of water and feel surprising clean after. I think by the end of this I will fully understand the joke my brother-in-law told me before I left. When a pessimist looks at a half glass of water, he says, “that glass is half empty.” When an optimist looks at the same glass of water, he says, “that glass is half full.” And when a Peace Corps Volunteer looks at the glass of water, she says, “I could take a bath in that!” Just give me a few more months and it probably won’t be a joke. Maybe it’s because I’ve been reading Catching Fire – the second book in the Hunger Games – but I feel like a rebel when I stay up past 10:30 pm when the electricity is cut off. Now that it is midnight and I just had a call from Megs, I think I better head to bed. Not to mention, the longer I stay up the more times I have to use the latrine in the dark. One of my least favorite things to do.

December 24, 2013 It’s officially Christmas Eve here. The time is 00:42, or 12:42 am. One of the neighbors hung out with me until midnight to wish me Merry Christmas, then he said, “It’s not the 25; it’s not Christmas.” I tried to explain it is basically Christmas because it is Christmas Eve. The majority of the people here are Muslim, and the big fête (party/holiday) day is in August. It doesn’t really feel like Christmas anyway but I did warn my neighbors I might cry a little on Christmas while I eat cookies and drink tea (I wish it was wine). They didn’t want me to cry. Cameroonians don’t really cry from what I’ve seen, except the young children. So, here I am on Christmas Eve eve eating homemade burnt peanut butter (the color is disturbingly dark) with a spoon, drinking tea, and trying to get the internet key to work. I’m listening to A Hometown Country Christmas on repeat, which is fairly standard since I’ve gotten here. I just came home from Banyo. It is a nearby town (city in comparison to Mayo-Darlé) with a good hospital and cold drinks. My post mate – the other Peace Corps Volunteer here – was sick and I went with him to make sure he was okay. He is okay, but he went to Yaoundé for a checkup, leaving me here with myself and my Christmas music. It is Christmas Eve day now. I treated myself by sleeping in until 9:30 this morning. For those of you who know me, you know I could sleep until noon but I don’t want to get the label of the lazy American. Nine thirty here is like noon to them. I know I slept too late when I walk outside and people say “bonsoir” instead of “bonjour.” The Internet key is still not working. I wish it were so I could call and wish people a Merry Christmas. My big plans for Christmas Eve include going to buy peanuts and give homemade peanut butter a second try. The first time was just such a typical Maureen cooking experience it was amusing. I shelled all the peanuts and then roasted them. This took a good hour or more and then I burnt the peanuts. I was bummed but didn’t think it would matter THAT much. I rubbed off the little paper-like shell on the peanuts and borrowed my neighbor’s hand grinder – actually my neighbor girl did the grinding work for me – and the paste came out black. Who knew a few burnt arachides (peanuts) would make the peanut butter so dark. I guess there were probably more than a few burnt ones in there. They were laughing pretty hard at this and my neighbors told me to come to them for help next time. I will definitely take them up on the offer. After the black pate d’arachide (literally the peanut paste) was done, I added butter and sugar and put it in the JIF jar like it was real peanut butter. The only difference was it was black instead of tan. Don’t worry I ate it all anyway. When I first arrived here there was a large jar of peanut butter from the last volunteer (best thing ever). I told my neighbors that I already ate the peanut butter in my house; they were like “merde, Maureen” (curse word, Maureen). Little did they know that jar was gone about 3 weeks ago in addition to a jar from my parents and the JIF to-go packets from Heather. Maybe this is why they keep telling me I am so “gros” (fat). I got to say, it’s hard to get used to a culture where this is a good thing. I just take the comments and store them away for when I decide whether to take a moto or walk. I’ve been walking a lot. Last night I tried to help my neighbor with English homework. Holy cow, I’ve heard it is hard to teach English, but it is REALLY HARD to teach English. I don’t know the correct grammatical phrases for English and even though I have learned them in French, it doesn’t always translate and my French is very elementary. There are words/phrases in the English workbook that are not correct and it makes me wonder about all those language books in the states. Well, in addition to making peanut butter (almost a full day event) I have to get water for the kitchen and latrine. It is a good work out. It takes about 4 buckets to fill up each storage container. Each bucket takes about 1.5 well buckets of water. The well is fairly deep and takes some good muscles to pull the water bucket up. I am usually sweating and have burning arms by the end of this chore. I can barely imagine a running hot water shower back home without worrying about running out of water. I think back to the days of fighting with my sisters about who took up all the hot water. I think there were times it even ended in tears. Goodness, we are spoiled. What I would give to have a shower, with running water (hot, cold, no matter), or even a tiled area to have a bucket bath, without the jumping cockroach/grasshopper/spider crossbred things that inhabit the latrine.

December 19, 2013 Well, I just got back from the city. I felt surprisingly excited to come “home” and missed my home here in Mayo-Darlé. I definitely don’t get bothered as much here and am not called “la blanche.” I hear “Nasara” and my name and it is like music to my ears after 3 days of la blanche, smooching noises, and hissing. I get off the bus (3rd leg of the trip) in Mayo-Darlé and am greeted by a neighbor boy who says “welcome home Maureen” and has a moto ready to take me home. I try to quietly let myself into my house and close the door behind me. While I feel so welcome and happy to be here, I need a few minutes to myself before people start coming to greet me and the kids come in and draw. I had a good 12 hours of Internet. I am sorry for anyone I didn’t get to at least say hi to, but I loved getting to talk to everyone I did. I stayed up all night to try and get everyone in, but it was impossible. Finally, around 6 am and the sunrise I lied down in the bed for an hour before the doorbell rang and it was time to head home. I don’t think I really slept since earlier that night I saw two cockroaches (one in the refrigerator) and a mouse running through the office. There are ants all over and it’s hard to tell what is living/not living in the corners of the office/apartment place we get to stay during our banking trips to the city. There is no running water, but this time there was absolutely no water at all. No water in a bucket anywhere; none to flush the toilet, none to wash faces/hands, and definitely not to bathe. It was quite the stay, and I won’t lie, it crossed my mind to pay for a hotel room for the hot shower and flushing toilet (quite the PCV huh!?). Anyways, besides that, it really was fabulous to have Wi-Fi and be connected to family, friends, and the outside world. I spent one night with Internet and the previous night with fellow PCV’s. There is a girl who lives close to the city in a darling, nice house who hosted a girl’s night. It was amazing to have a night with other Americans and speak English and commiserate. They made amazing food, eggplant parmesan for dinner and hash browns and eggs for breakfast. I got to wander around a supermarket, maybe the most westernized supermarket I’ve seen outside the capital city. It had Christmas decorations, soy sauce, wine, dark chocolate, and a real broom and dustpan (as opposed to the sticks tied together; I can’t seem to get the technique down). I bought fresh veggies like eggplant, carrots, and green peppers, and even got a couple apples. I went “shopping” in the “up-for-grabs” bin at the Peace Corps office space and found sandals and another couple shirts. Basically shopped for free, Dad and Holly would be so proud. I enjoyed multiple cold juices, yogurts, and fresh bread. It was fabulous. I definitely indulged. Now, I am back home, haven’t showered since Monday. I left for the city on Tuesday and today is Thursday. I am pretty gross. I have been wearing the same clothes for close to 36 hours. I put on a little scarf to cover the greasy hair. I have a thin layer of dirt all over my body. It is dry season here and there is endless dirt, dust, and grime. It was a tough call between wanting the windows open to lessen the dripping sweat or wanting to be able to breathe semi-clean air. I think I appreciated the open windows with my headband/scarf over my face. I just went to say “bonsoir” to all my neighbors, apparently I am kind of in trouble since I forgot/didn’t tell them all I was leaving. I actually thought I mentioned it to all of them, but apparently not. They were pretty worried about me and thought I was in my room for 2 days straight. I felt kind of bad. But it is good to know someone would notice my absence. I got to say I am not a huge fan of travelling as of now. I have heard rumors it can take 3.5 – 4.5 hours on good days in the dry season to get from Mayo-Darlé to Bafoussam (banking city). I have yet to see that. Every time has been at least 6 plus hours with some sort of issue to go along with it.