March 8, 2014 – International Women’s Day! Let’s start with how I got home to Mayo-Darlé from Bamenda. I was not feeling well and nervous about traveling with an if-y stomach. I took too much Immodium and brought tissue and water with me in the bus. I started with a bus from Bamenda to Bafoussam (my banking city). I left around 2 pm and arrived a little after 4 pm, not bad. I often choose the seats next to the windows with the thought I can open it the whole trip and I don’t have to feel the heat of the 18 other people. This is not a big vehicle. It could be compared to our family’s 15-passenger van, with 4 bench seats, except less roomy and more uncomfortable. There are 19 full grown adults crammed in there and it is often way too hot to handle. This time there was some shorty next to me who kept nodding off, which is fine, but he kept laying his head on my shoulder. I was swearing every bad word I knew silently, to myself. I kept trying to sit up straighter to get his head off my shoulder, didn’t work. Every bump and corner I would force him further away from me, very subtly of course. Finally, I realized if I forced my arm between us, his neck couldn’t bend that far sideways to hit my shoulder again. I was so happy to not have his sweaty, creepy little head bobbing on my shoulder. I was praising myself in my head over and over. “Ha ha, sucker no more sleeping on the white-y,” “no more taking advantage of this quiet little white girl, you ***&^%%$$,” “gotcha good you little stinker,” and “gosh this will be funny when I think back on it, but right now I want to freak out.” I had a whole conversation with myself during my travels. At one point I couldn’t help but think of Elaine, on Seinfeld, when she is taking the subway and it keeps stopping and there is something touching her leg, and someone who isn’t wearing deodorant, and she keeps swearing to herself. God, I love that show.  When I got to Bafoussam, I took a moto to a different travel office to wait for a small car to go to MD. I walked around a little bit, buying apples (precious food for those in village who never see them there), and my last share of cold drinks. I sat in the office for a while, talking with a very nice lady. Then, I sat in the car for a while, watching the inside of my eyelids while they loaded the car. I know I sound lazy, but it’s strongly opposed when I try to help. (Little do they know I carried 2x4’s and plywood back home, granted with a lot of effort and help.) Around 7 pm we finally left, I think it was 7 but now that sounds so late. We aren’t supposed to travel at night, but to be fair I started my voyage during the daytime. Right before we left there was some sort of loud discussion going on around me, it sounded like an argument but it is hard to tell sometimes. I was anxiously trying to count how many men would be in the car with me while I attached my pepper spray to my purse for easy access. Of course, there were four of us in the back seat but only three up front. The driver actually had his seat to himself. Unfortunately, there were me and one other guy who are normal size (despite what my village may tell me) and then two men in between us who were large and sweaty. It was a terrible ride. I have come to realize flat tires are an expected part of the trip here and they are pro’s at changing them; they could be in the pits at Nascar, seriously. I have never been so happy to get a flat tire. I was out of that car so fast; I was dreading getting back in and for once wished it would take them longer to change the tire. I was literally sitting with my back against the side of the car, my head awkwardly forward, trying to avoid the window and the guy’s head next to me on every bump. And, my karma from earlier in my day came back for me. This guy was also tired and doing the head bob, but he was taller and our faces were too close. He hit me in the face THREE TIMES with his forehead. Twice, my glasses came off. Ugh, I wanted to freak out. He kept moving and squishing me against the side of the card and making sounds like he was annoyed with ME. I was like, “hello, you think I am comfortable here?!?” (If you haven’t noticed, my internal conversations keep me going through these hellish trips. I hate traveling to and from my post.) I guess a few head knocks are what I get for being so smug about the guy on the bus. Thankfully, it was one of the fastest trips home I’ve ever had. I was home around 11:30 pm and couldn’t have been happier to have that huge guy off of me. I crawled out of the back seat to a warm welcome from people I couldn’t even recognize in the dark. I thanked the driver and my friend took me home. I have never been so happy to be home but so sad to not be at the fancy hotel. I came home to two living cats (yeah!) and many dead cockroaches around my house. There were some living cockroach/grasshopper/spider crossbreeds jumping around my living room. As I grabbed my RAID, my friend grabbed them with his bare hands and threw them outside. I lit my gas lamp and went to get my broom to get rid of all the dead creatures. My friend kicked them out of the way and told me to do it tomorrow. I accepted and sat on my not so comfortable couch chatting with my friend for a few minutes. When he left, I inspected my bed for creatures, used the very scary latrine, and turned off my lamp. I crawled into bed and was surprised it was as comfortable as it was. I was dreading it after 2 weeks of a real bed at the hotel. It definitely is not the same. I miss the toilet, the bed, the bath, the 24-hour electricity, the running water, the English, and the cold drinks. OH, and I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned this already, but I got to EAT ICE for the first time in SIX months. My mouth and body was so content. I know, it sounds weird, but I have an odd addiction to ice and could eat it all day, every day.  After sleeping very late on Friday (yesterday), I went to greet all my neighbors. Of course, they fed me cous cous and sauce (first time in 2 weeks) and came back to my house to sleep again. After that, I went to the market to pick up my new clothes for Women’s Day and then went to a Round Table for Women’s Day. That was the most women I’d ever seen in a formal government meeting. It was great, but still difficult to understand. After 2 weeks of speaking mostly English, my French and Fulfulde are suffering. I went home for a bit with my friends and then went back out for a “Soirée Culturelle” where the women danced and the audience screamed and cheered them on while placing money on their foreheads. I was exhausted and only lasted a few minutes. I came home and fell asleep almost instantly.  That brings me to today. Today is the Day of the Woman and the Girl Child. I got an outfit made with the cloth for today, it is awfully tight and, as my neighbor says, “sexy.” Just what I DON’T need here. I delivered apples to all my neighbors and told them “bonne fête.” Apparently the Muslim population here doesn’t like or doesn’t celebrate the fête. The Muslim girls or women who don’t have a husband or have a husband who allows them to go to the celebration can attend. If they have a husband, it usually means they can’t go. So, the day I was so excited to see was hampered by the fact the majority of the women here can’t even enjoy their one day. I shouldn’t be surprised since women are viewed as lesser than men here, but it was a little discouraging to find out my Muslim friends wouldn’t be there. Regardless, I put my scarf over myself and went to join the festivities. There were still a good amount of women there who marched and celebrated, and it was so neat to see all these women in unique dresses made out of the same cloth.