Through these past months I have learned a lot about community – how to integrate into one and the roles of each member, institutions and culture in shaping one. I have also witnessed development – development aid in form of UNICEF/UNHCR handouts, development of infrastructure (paved roads!), early childhood development, etc. However, it was very recently that I was able to pinpoint something truly as community development.

This moment came as I took a seat to watch one of my counterparts, Ousmanou, give a presentation on facilitation skills to the group of “Mères Leaders” (Leader Mothers) at our Care Group workshop. Unless you are a Public Health major or a Peace Corps Volunteer, some of those terms might seem a little foreign so allow me to explain:

• Care Groups: The Care Group approach is a community health strategy. The program builds a team of “Leader Mothers” who will represent, serve and present important health information with groups of 10 households each. Each month, “Leader Mothers” will attend a meeting during which health center staff and community health volunteers will train them on nutrition, disease prevention, common illnesses and other healthy family practices. Following the meeting, the “Leader Mothers” will host a meeting for her own group of 10 households, disseminating the information she learned. The “Leader Mothers” will deliver vital health messages at a time that is convenient for the families using culturally appropriate language, stories and examples. This community-based strategy not only improves coverage of important health information, but also provides a supportive social setting for learning and asking questions. The approach was developed by World Relief in Mozambique, but has since been used in communities around the world. My counterparts and I have been really excited about the potential of this program, as is Peace Corps Cameroon. They want more volunteers to incorporate Care Groups into their work and recently brought in a “Care Group Expert” to lead a seminar. During the seminar, we found out that Lokoti is the only community (with a PCV) in Cameroon currently working with Care Groups. We are proud to be the pilot!
• Mères Leaders: “Leader Mothers” (Mères Leaders) are the driving force of this program. We currently have a team of 20 mères leaders (a leader and an assistant leader) from 10 different quartiers in Lokoti. They are responsible for their own groups of 10-15 families.
• Counterparts: Counterparts are the cornerstones of a Peace Corps Volunteer’s work. They are HCNs (host country nationals) who help you plan and implement work projects. A volunteer can have many different counterparts depending on the work they are involved with. For the Care Group project, I am working with three counterparts: Issa, Ousmanou and Abdoulaye. They are all part of the COSA (Comité de Santé), which is a group of people who volunteer their time to assist the health center with vaccination campaigns, nutrition days, etc.

This is the community development I witnessed:

Community (n):

1. a group of people living together in one place; 2. a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests and goals.

The sense of community has been embedded in the project each step of the way. The project itself was suggested only after studying a community needs assessment. Before implementing the project, it was presented and approved by the Lamido and other village notables (as per village protocol). At that point it was understood that the project was not going to be the health center’s project, or my project, but the community’s project with each person playing his or her role to ensure success. In the case of the village notables, their role was of patron – lending their highly regarded support to the project.

During the planning and early implementation stages, I worked closely with three counterparts who through their membership in the village health committee had proven themselves as true public servants. The meat of the project – forming groups in the neighborhoods, identifying Leader Mothers, etc. – can be completing credited to the work that these men did, all voluntary and without financial recompense. This is especially noteworthy since most work in Cameroon isn’t completed without some “motivation” (financial or in-kind bribes or payment).

On the day of the training, this sense of community service that I saw in my counterparts was echoed in each of the Leader Mothers as they introduced themselves and explained why they wanted to be part of this program. They spoke of wanting to be promoters of healthy practices that would help people in their neighborhoods. An older woman spoke of wanting to learn new things, but to also lend her years of experience to the other women in the group. The head of the health center and a nurse attended the training as well to pledge their support and offer their technical knowledge and assistance to the Leader Mothers and their groups. Here’s to not asking what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country!

In addition to the support of the community-at-large and the participation of the sub-communities that each Leader Mother represents, that day, during our first training, we created another sense of community – a community of Leader Mothers. Some of the women were friends, others knew of each other, but some had never met or interacted before the training. However, by the end of the training, they had formed a bond – after all, they were likeminded individuals who want to serve their community. The camaraderie was visible on Women’s Day when they marched together and presented a song to the Lamido of our village. They continue to support each other, whether in reminding a fellow Leader Mother of the date/time of our next meeting, or helping to explain a key health message in a different way. This solidarity is made all the more remarkable by the fact that the group transcends the social divide that normally exists between the Gbayas and the Fulbés (the two ethnic groups in Lokoti) at the village level.

Development (n):

a specified state of growth or advancement

Through this project I have seen many states of development. I have witnessed my counterparts developing new project design and management skills while strengthening their already existing skills as community leaders. I’ve observed Leader Mothers developing leadership skills and facilitation skills which lead to them feeling empowered to go forth and make a difference in their neighborhoods. The information they bring to their neighborhoods will eventually lead to less sickness and therefore will allow community members more time to go to school, be professionally productive and be a present, active and dynamic member in the community’s affairs and subsequent development.

Since learning is an ongoing process, I know that my understanding of community development will continue to change and if you will, develop. However, I can say that this Care Group project has certainly given me a comprehensive orientation on the subject! 

 As it turns out, lots of things – well, not necessarily wrong, but contrary to what we had imagined and expected. Here are some examples of what we imagined and what we actually received:

 Mbéré National Park

What we imagined: While we not expecting a Cumberland Gap-type National Park with marked trails and picnic areas, we were imagining some semblance of trails.

What we got: During the first hours of our hike, we had trails thanks to the many farmers and cow-herders that have, over time, created them. However, as we ventured further into the valley, the trail became less apparent. As we approached our campsite in the heart of the valley, at the end of our hike, there was no trail at all. Instead we pushed ourselves through dried brush being sure to guard our eyes against any fling-back branches. We were in the definition of the African bush.

 The wildlife

What we imagined: Elephants, black panthers, antelope, monkeys, etc. Mbéré National Park is said to have a lot of elephants. In fact, last year, the army was sent to the area to dissuade the poachers who had been encroaching on the heavily populated area. We had also heard of black panthers and while we weren’t truly eager to cross their path, we were thrilled with the romance of entering such wilderness complete with African safari favorites.

What we got: A lot of birds, a snake, elephant excrement and a plethora of mosquitos. An ornithologist would have had a field day just as the anopheles mosquitos had a field day with us.

Our Guide

What we imagined: Our guide was a middle-aged man who was the brother of the Lamido of Djohong. We chose him after learning that he has been leading a group of French archeologists and Cameroonian archeology students into the valley every summer for many years. Because of this, he had a supply of tents, something we needed. His respectable position in the community and his experience leading foreigners into the park led us to believe that he would be a great guide. And we couldn’t beat the price at $10 a day! Additionally, we expected the friendly, congenial and laissez-faire attitude that many Cameroonians have.

What we got: A man who vacillated between a kind companion and a borderline misogynist. Our guide was very knowledgeable of the area and therefore we felt very safe with him. However, after the first two hours of the hike, his patience with us started to waver. He wanted to increase the pace (this is the first time I’ve encountered a Cameroonian that walks faster than an American). During a pit stop at a watering hole at the hour three mark, we asked him how much longer until we arrived at our camping site (we were told it would be a 3 hour hike). He responded without any hint of joking, that it would probably take 13 more hours because of the women (it ended up taking another four hours, fyi). That was the first of many, many backhanded comments that were made against my friend and me. Insult my ability or skill, but do not insult my sex. This obviously did not make for the most encouraging environment. Later that night though, we broke the proverbial bread by sharing catfish that he had caught for dinner. In sharing his meal and conversation and over subsequent card games, we saw his kind side, which had been shadowed earlier in the day.

The trek

What we imagined: We expected a three-hour hike with moderate difficultly and pockets of advanced difficulty (during the steep descents/ascents). Since French archeologists and Cameroonian students were able to complete the hike, we thought we would have no problems doing so.

What we got: As I mentioned above, our three-hour hike turned into a seven-hour hike, however, the difficulty of the hike mirrored our expectations. As a very goal-oriented person, not knowing where the finish line was (geographically or time-wise) was very frustrating. When we finally arrived at our campsite with blistered feet and drenched in sweat, we learned that the group of archeologists he brings into the valley normally stop and camp at the first watering hole that we stopped at (at the hour 3 mark). They also use porters, so unlike us, they do not have heavy packs to carry. I am glad that we continued to our campsite further in the valley because the site was beautiful. We were camped in the woods, near what could be described as a babbling-brook (but on a much larger scale). So while our goal was unknown for most of the trek, it was well worth it.

Despite all of this, I am still here, albeit with more than a few mosquito bites and the giardia box checked on my “tropical diseases” bingo card. While there were many moments of near agony, I do not regret choosing this spring break. In fact, I think it just put the PCV-skills we’ve been honing to the test – just as in our villages and professional lives, we had to take each unexpected aspect and strenuous incline with the same patience and flexibility. 

World AIDS Day is recognized on December 1^st of every year. It can be acknowledged in many different ways. Some of you have most likely participated in World AIDS Day events – voluntary testing, candlelight vigils, speaker panels, etc. In Cameroon, this day is often a very lively affair. It is celebrated (I use that verb with purpose) through dances, skits, presentations, testimonies, etc. Everyday can be a reminder of what loss the HIV/AIDS epidemic has brought, so World AIDS Day tends to focus on community resiliency – prevention and support, rather than the lost. My original intention was to sit down a write a blog post in honor of World AIDS Day and document the realities of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the Adamawa Region (where my village is located), which has the highest rate of HIV in all of Cameroon at 9.1%. Outside of HIV prevention presentations that I have shared with many groups, conversation around HIV/AIDS is limited due to fear in going against religious beliefs and widespread stigma. My hope was that the World AIDS Day events that we planned would provide me with more insights and anecdotes that would be helpful in terms of work and that I could share here. But, as with many things in the Peace Corps (in Cameroon, in life in general?), things didn’t go according to plan.

Lokoti did celebrate World AIDS Day on December 1^st… and December 2^nd, with some hiccups. In looking back at the rollercoaster that was planning and implementing World AIDS Day events, I have realized it really mirrored Peace Corps service as a whole. As Peace Corps volunteers, we experience many highs and lows throughout our service. Sometimes the highs or lows can last for a full month, but more often, they change on a daily to weekly basis due to the nature of our work and our distance from the familiar. Let me use World AIDS Day as an example…

Holding a World AIDS Day event in Lokoti was very important to me. As the first volunteer in this village, I am trying to lay the foundation through presentations, conversations, demonstrations, etc. for more focused and impactful HIV/AIDS interventions in the future. Additionally, I had heard that the year before an NGO had come to Lokoti and hosted an event that people still talk about, therefore there was a lot of community interest. I was approached by the president of the youth association (L’association jeunes solidaires de Lokoti) and was thrilled at the opportunity for collaboration – after all, the most successful projects are those planned and managed primarily by the community. I was so excited after our first planning meeting with the executive board of the association: the Sport Chair was going to organize the teams and football match, the President was going to handle publicity and equipment (generator, amplifiers, etc.) rental, others were going to prepare a presentation and the Social Chair was going to gather the actors/dancers for the skits, etc. Fast-forward to the next meeting when everyone says they are still working on their tasks. Every subsequent meeting was like this and I started to feel more and more discouraged. I had to keep telling myself to be flexible and that the event planning in the United States that I was used to was unlike event planning here.

I found out on the day of the event that my worries were not unwarranted. Up until the last hours of the event, we were running around trying to find another generator and gathering enough benches. The projector we asked to borrow from the health center ended up being in a neighboring town, so we had to send someone to get it. In addition, the Social Chair never did gather people to perform dances, so we’d have to go without. The only thing helping to relieve my stress in those hours was the fact that a lot of people were watching the football match we organized as a type of publicity and that they were going to head to the main event afterwards.

After all the running around during the day, we breathed a deep sigh of relief when everything was set up in front of the chief’s house (the benches, the amplifiers, projector, laptop, music, posters, etc.). We were excited to execute the event that we had planned – to have a few speeches and presentations about HIV prevention and then show “Scenarios d’Afrique,” a collection of short films made by young Africans on the subject of HIV/AIDS prevention, support and stigma. We gave presentations, people asked questions and all was good as we pressed play on the first short film. After about 3 minutes of the film, the generators that we had started having problems. After an hour of trying to fix the problem, we had to call it a night – it was around 10pm. I was upset these technical difficulties would be unfixable, but I was assured that with a few changes we could show the film the next night. I was worried no one would show up for the second night.

However, despite these difficulties, we attracted huge crowds both nights. There were people of all ages and market mamas came to sell snacks to the masses. On night two, I was marveling at how many people came back, even after the failure of the night before, when across the way I noticed a group of people huddled and yelling. I went over to watch what I thought might be someone dancing as we waited for the film to start. I was shocked to find a boy whipping (with plastic tubing) a young pregnant woman. The woman had arrived in Lokoti just a few weeks before and was living at the hospital. She had walked from the Northwest region of Cameroon and had only a piece of fabric to clothe herself. While I cannot say with certainty, it seemed as though this woman had a mental disability. “Fous” (“crazy people”) here are treated very poorly by many people – it is not uncommon for people to throw rocks at them or shout at them to leave. I stopped this abhorrent activity right away and tried by best to comfort the woman. Coming from the Northwest, she spoke Pidgin English, so I tried my best to communicate with her and eventually we ended up sitting together. She left to go back to the hospital an hour later, but for that entire hour people kept a distance from me, approaching me only to ask me why I wasn’t afraid of her. After that situation, I was surprised to find myself later in the evening joining in on the cheering as some brave youth participated in a condom demonstration relay race and as they answered trivia questions about prevention. I found myself just as proud of certain members of the community as I was disappointed in others just a few hours before. Talk about highs and lows.

So in conclusion, no, the event did not run seamlessly or truly according to plan and neither has my service. However, laughs were had, key information was transferred and a community was brought together on December 1^st (and 2^nd) and hopefully my service will have those same effects.

Following Teachers’ Day, I had all intention to write a post about the very people this holiday honored, but never did. However, after attending last month’s teachers’ “Amicale,” I felt inspired to finally put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard). Amicale is a meeting that the high school teachers (I am included in the group because I teach an English class at the school) have monthly. Every first Saturday of the month we get together to eat, drink and collect money (that then gets redistributed to the “host teachers” for the month). In French, “amicale” means friendly and that is exactly what these meetings are supposed to do – promote an amicable environment amongst colleagues. However, I have mixed feelings on the environment that is actually promoted. In many ways, it feels like a being a fly on the wall of a men’s locker room. But, in this case, I am a very outspoken fly and always make sure the female perspective is heard (there is one other female teacher, but she is much more reserved). We spend a lot of time discussing the meeting policies (you must give 100 francs if your cellphone rings – 20 cents or 300 francs – 60 cents if you are late, everyone must bring two pieces of soap if someone in the group’s wife has a baby, etc.) I spend a lot of this time perusing the room of teachers, checking out their nifty clothes (they are among the most fashionably or at least most interestingly dressed people in the village) and just killing time before the food is served. Last month, I started to think about the group and how I might describe Cameroonian teachers to people who have never met or worked with them before. I settled on four adjectives, which also happen to be green cards in the game, Apples to Apples.

I want to preface these adjectives by saying that they are based solely on my opinions of, interactions with and observations of the teachers I work with and are no way descriptive of all the teachers in Cameroon.

Cosmopolitan: While the backgrounds of the teachers vary (some being born into poor families  

in rural villages, other being raised in a middle class urban setting), they all attended universities in big cities. For at least a few years, these teachers lived and soaked up everything that comes with cities – diversity, entertainment, modern luxuries (indoor plumbing, internet!), etc. It is not unexpected that these teachers would be very cosmopolitan. Their modern and sleek apparel and attention to grooming (I’m convinced they own stock in Axe, or something like it) set them apart. They are often very well connected and technologically accessorized. Their cellphones put mine to shame and they access their email on their laptops more times in a week then I do in a month. They are also always ready with their digital cameras. In addition to their material possessions, they are also more inclined to delve into “cultured conversation.” The way conversation can vacillate between current events and pop culture is reminiscent of a conversation you might overhear at a Dupont Circle Starbucks (more on this below).

Intelligent:       I am not exaggerating when I say that the majority of my colleagues could explain the top five international news stories in more detail and with more historical background then the pundits on CNN. Thanks primarily due to their frequent internet access, they are constantly up to date and informed on current events happening around the world. I especially like talking to them because they provide an alternative to the Eurocentric and Americanized point of view I normally receive. These are well educated Cameroonians who chose to stay and work in their country and so it goes without saying that they want to protect the interests of their country and are weary of superpowers, who in their opinion, view the world as their taking. With every point they make, they reinforce it with historical examples. Sometimes I wish I had my lecture notes from college history classes to use as a cheat sheet in these discussions. They are also extremely informed in the subject of politics – American, French, Senegalese, Cameroonian, you name it. Once I hung my head in embarrassment when they were discussing a speech Joe Biden just gave on gun violence because alas I had not read the speech, instead I had spent my time looking at Buzzfeed’s collection of Joe’s best expressions during the State of the Union. Anyways, between their knowledge and astute perspectives, I full heartedly believe that Cameroon would be in a far better state if leadership in the political system was more accessible for people like these teachers.

Touchy-Feely: It could be a product of their modern upbringings (or in some of their cases, their

exposure to more liberal surroundings once they went to university), but the teachers I work with are notoriously touchy-feely. Since in my village, interactions and comments made between the opposite sexes are pretty conservative, the atmosphere with the teachers seems all the more extreme to me. In interacting with me, they are not physically touchy-feely (besides the kisses on the cheek à la francais and some questionable dance moves), however, their comments are quite invasive. They constantly broach the subjects of marriage, sex and infidelity and not in a general sense, but through pointed and graphic questions towards me (or whoever else they are talking to). However, this doesn’t even scratch the surface. They often push further when it comes to people in an inferior position to them. I am spared because of my position in relation to them (being colleagues). Female students at the high school aren’t as fortunate. It is widely known, mainly because the teachers do nothing to hide the fact, that a few teachers from the high school “date” their students. Higher grades can be given, absences erased, etc. by visits with certain teachers. This is an unfortunate, but very real part of the school life (and the culture of corruption) here, which is why giving girls the life skills to effectively negotiate situations is such a key part of the work volunteers do in their communities.

Respectable:    Now it may seem counterintuitive that the adjective “respectable” follows the  

despicable behavior that I just wrote about, so let me explain. For every slimy colleague I have, I have a friendly, kind and respectable one (albeit sharing a crude joke once in a while). As is the case for teachers all around the world, these people chose an honorable profession that is often thankless, especially in Cameroon. Teachers get paid around 150, 000 francs ($300) a month, $60 of which often goes towards rent. Sometimes the government postpones paying teachers for months at a time. Due to this, many teachers take on a secondary job, such as farming or selling food in the market to supplement their income. Working conditions are just as meager. We have no photocopier or printer in Lokoti, so if teachers want to mass produce a test or worksheet, they type it using a type writer then print copies with an antiquated printing press-type apparatus. Needless to say, the only materials they receive for their classes are: the classroom itself, a few desks and a chalkboard (they provide their own chalk). Imagine teaching an informatics class without an actual computer, or a chemistry class without any lab materials therefore having to resort to rudimentary chalk-drawn diagrams on the board.  Despite this, the teachers still manage to transfer knowledge to and inspire hundreds of students every year. I have witnessed teachers helping struggling students study for their tests and giving pep talks to students who say they might not continue in school. Additionally, these teachers organize extracurricular events such as “Orientation Day” (think: Career Day), Bilingualism Day, etc. to promote learning in another manner outside of the classroom. They don’t need to spend their time doing this – time they could spend emailing their friends in Yaoundé or cultivating crops to sell, but they do it for the welfare of their students. I’d say all of that is pretty respectable.

Later today (I am writing on Saturday, March 2^nd), I get to attend our Amicale for March and spend some time with the teachers I just described. I’m looking forward to sitting next to my fellow Anglophone, Julius, and clinking our “33 Export” beers to our families far away (his in the Northwest region of Cameroon, mine in the United States) and enjoying a delicious meal and hearty camaraderie. At the same time, I’m bracing myself to take deep breaths and hurl poignant retorts when a fellow teacher makes an unsavory comment about the rights of women or gay people (two common topics of conversation). But, as with many situations, I am prepared to balance the good with the bad (apples).

Cameroon has two official languages – English and French. Bilingualism Day was started years ago to act as a unifying holiday. During the day, people in the Francophone regions are encouraged to speak in English, while French is spoken in the Anglophone regions. The idea is that Cameroonians must make every effort to become bilingual in order to communicate with their fellow countrymen and with the rest of the world.

However, in reality, Bilingualism Day should be called “English and French Day/La Journée d’Anglais et Francais” because it promotes those two languages only and not bilingualism in general – the ability to speak any two languages. In Lokoti, many people are bilingual by the time they start Primary School. If you are Gbaya, your patois is Gbaya, but you also learn Fulfuldé. If you are Fulbé, your patois is Fulfuldé, but you also learn Arabic. It is often in Primary School that children are first exposed to French and English. French is the primary language of school classes, but children start taking English classes from the get-go. While it has been proven that children can absorb languages easier than adults, I can only imagine this overload of languages is confusing for many Cameroonian students. I have seen the results of this lack of focus on any one or two languages. I have read notes and tests of students in the last year of Primary School (the equivalent of sixth grade) and their spelling is atrocious (lefe = l’oeuf/egg, mesi = merci/thank you). This continues throughout high school, as the students have no real grasp of either French or English.

With that being said, Bilingualism Day ensues. This year people gave speeches on the official theme of Bilingualism Day 2013 (“Bilingualism: a cornerstone for the professionalization of an emerging Cameroon”) and there was of course, marching and dancing (in true Cameroonian holiday fashion). My English students made posters with messages that promoted bilingualism and while I applauded them, I still couldn’t help but question the very concept of promoting bilingualism, especially as it is written in the Cameroonian school curriculum.

Baloney or not, at the end of the (Bilingualism) day, I guess I am grateful for the two official languages, for it means I get to hear at least of smattering of my mother tongue daily. 

The brief change of scenery, in the form of my (wonderful, amazing, delicious, cold, snowy, festive) trip to the East Coast for the holidays, was exactly what I needed for when I returned to Cameroon, for I was pleasantly overwhelmed with everything I have learned to love about this country. As my taxi driver, Etienne, drove me 40 minutes from the Yaoundé airport to the Peace Corps house, I was as smiley and content as my 6-year-old self in our family car as it crossed over the bay to Ocean City, NJ. Except instead of the smell of salt air, I smelled burning trash, instead of the sight of seagulls, I saw wild dogs and instead of the hum of 104.5FM, I listened to a mélange of P-Square and Lady Ponce blare from street bars.

I don’t necessarily love the burning trash or the wild dogs, but I love what they actors in: a hectic and gritty, but lively quotidian life. It was only upon returning after my trip that I realized how I revel in all the constant energy that surrounds me. This new outlook, combined with the familiar when I got back to my village. I was welcomed by the familial faces of friends and neighbors who couldn’t wait to tell me about the return (and improvement in quality) of the electricity! In return, I introduced them to their newest foe turned friend: Rosco, a dog I inherited from a volunteer who just completed her service. All of these things and more have proven the month of January worthy of its New Year status.

So in this New Year’s spirit, I was inclined to make some New Year’s Resolutions. Some of them have been going quite well (I’m becoming a Sudoku master with every daily puzzle I complete), others have fallen by the wayside already, such as: “Complete four workout videos a week” (how can anyone seriously stand to listen to that P90X guy?). Blogging is among these resolutions. I resolve to keep up with the blog for my remaining year in Cameroon. With that being said, I have three partially written posts that will posted, belatedly, in the coming weeks (I cannot guarantee that they won’t all end up being about Rosco).

Here’s to 2013.

1. “C’est qui?” “C’est moi!”: When someone knocks on your door and you ask who is there, 99% of the time they will respond with “It’s me!” I was looking for something a little more specific…
2. “Tu es la?”: In following with the last point, people love to state the very obvious. It is common to hear people exclaim “Tu es la?” (“You are here?”) when you walk in a room or “You are eating?” when you are mid-bite, and of course, “Nassara!” (“White person!”) when you are most definitely white.
3. Coffee or Tea?: Tea is consumed when people need to stay awake, while coffee is known as a beverage you drink when you want to sleep. Sleepy-Time Tea would not have a market here.
4. The rules of hygiene: You are a filthy person if your feet are a tad bit dirty, but body odor, outrageous pit stains, kola-nut stained teeth and cozying up to babies without diapers are acceptable and somewhat embraced.
5. Etiquette that would confuse Emily Post: There exists a very strict etiquette in terms of how your greet people, how you treat elders, how you address a crowd, etc. However, at the same time I am amazed at how many times people fall asleep at public events and while visiting people. With the later, I am not talking about a doze – people take full-fledge naps in their friends’ living rooms. While I’ve been writing in third person and still do not understand it, I’ve definitely partaken in naptime.
6. There’s no saying “Cheese!”: For one year now I have been on a crusade to have people smile more in photos to no avail. Photos are like family heirlooms here, since it is pricey to print out photos and not many people have cameras. When visiting people’s houses, they will often pull out a stack of photos to show you. The photos are a wonderful portfolio of different family members in a variety of different poses (my personal favorite is part thinker – hand on chin, pensive visage, part mid-latrine usage – a strategic squat). However, the smiles are always missing.

In a time when we have access to find answers of many questions ranging from “In what year was the World Food Programme started?” to “What does yolo mean?” (just two of my many Google searches), it is somewhat refreshing to not know why some things are they way they are. If anything, it continues to keep life exciting, even after one year!

[I started writing this before I noticed that one of my fellow PCVs wrote a very similar blog post earlier today. Please check it out for more baffling facets of life in Cameroon: http://peacecorpspeach.wordpress.com/2012/12/08/10-things-i-still-dont-get/ (I especially endorse Numbers 6 and 7)]

This year, after my team “The 2%” (bonus points if you understand the team name) was eliminated from the corn hole tournament at our Election party, I sat 6886 miles from the White House. I was with a dwindling group of PCVs watching Brian Williams hypothesize the route to 270 votes (thank you MSNBC Live Streaming and Camtel Internet!) early on November 7th. There was no dash to the White House, instead there were embraces and small celebratory outbursts mixed in with yawns as the results were announced. It was 8am in Ngaoundéré , after all, and most of us were in bed before the President took the stage for we had heard what we needed to hear to get a good night’s (day’s?) sleep.

I awoke a few hours later to a handful of missed calls from people in my village. With each call returned, I received a “Felicitations!” on Obama’s victory (impressive considering Lokoti hasn’t had electricity since a few days before the election). The congratulations continue to this day as I walk through town (part of me wonders what people would shout at me if Romney was victorious). Most of these people could have preemptively congratulated me because anything other than a second term for Obama did not seem possible to them.

[It should be noted here that there are many Cameroonians (especially in larger towns) who follow polling data and watch France24 coverage of the election as much as your average GW student (replace France24 with CNN) and therefore they fully understand the ebb and flow of the months and days leading up to the election. However, the average Cameroonian is more akin to my friends in village, whose confidence in a second term for Obama was nice, but completely overstated.]

There same people were puzzled when I could not tell them with certainty which candidate would win. The response is quite understandable when taken in context. Cameroonians live in a theoretical democracy with presidential elections every seven years. However, even with a field of 15 or more candidates, the question is never who will win, rather by how much.

On November 6th, as Americans were lining up (in very long lines, I hear) to vote, Cameroon was celebrating Paul Biya Day – commemorating President Biya’s 30 years in power. Even though the night of November 6th into the day of November 7th was nailbiting for us, Paul Biya Day made me appreciate all the more that 8 years is not a given and that the 22nd Amendment was ratified and is followed.

Discussions about mandate limits and more confusing ones about the Electoral College were the least of the interesting conversations I got to have with Cameroonians during the run up to the election. Whether it was during the late, late night hours when we were waiting for the debates to come on TV or over a cup of chai mid-afternoon, I thoroughly enjoyed being able to discuss the campaign, explain U.S. government and listen to my friends’ insights. I’d put any of my Cameroonian friends up again a AP U.S. Government student!

There is nothing quite like being in the nation’s capital on election night, but there is something equally as memorable in spending an election season abroad – memorable in the sense that I’ll never take an Election Day for granted.

[The 2% refers to the percentage of Americans polled that thought Mitt Romney’s full name was Mittens. God Bless You, America.]

I rang in the summer with something characteristic of both the season and of Girl Scouts: a camp! With students out of school, my friend and fellow PCV, Charla (a Youth Development Volunteer) saw an opportunity to work with girls in my village and her town, Meiganga (30 minutes away from Lokoti). In both of these places, the gender disparity in high school is outstanding because many girls stop school after primary school. Knowing this, we focused our camp on girls in the last two years of primary school (ages 11-15). Our camp was called “Choisissez un futur!” (Choose a Future) and concentrated on transferring the life skills needed to make healthy life decisions. We spent a week in Lokoti and a week in Meiganga. Each day had a theme that blended nicely with the day before. The themes were: leadership, HIV/AIDS prevention, communication, decision making and goal setting.

One of the best days was the HIV/AIDS prevention themed day. This also happened to be the day I was most nervous about presenting, mainly because Lokoti is a fairly traditional village, therefore the topics of reproductive health, sex and HIV/AIDS are not discussed that openly (we did have parents sign permission slips acknowledging that we would be covering these topics). However, Charla and I did our best to create a safe environment where everyone would feel comfortable talking and asking questions. We knew we had succeeded when after doing a condom demonstration, the girls asked if they could open the packets and touch the condoms. This led to some silliness, like blowing them up to become balloons and stretching them over arms to test their strength. But however silly those things seem, having the girls become comfortable navigating condom usage was no small feat. I believe it was that same safe environment that has allowed the girls to become more outgoing overall. While in the beginning of the camp, girls were reluctant to speak in front of their peers, they are now (during club meetings) all clambering to be the first to speak up. Those leadership skills we talked about starting to be put into action.

Later in the summer, I was invited to attend the first annual National Girls Forum, organized by Peace Corps Cameroon’s Youth Development program. The objective of the forum was to bring together Peace Corps Volunteers and host country nationals (each volunteer brought two people from their village) who are working on girls empowerment issues with the ultimate goal of sharing best practices and creating a national network of advocates. I attended the conference with the Guidance Counselor from the local high school and a very motivated 18-year-old high school student named Hadidjatou. In many ways Hadidjatou could be the poster child for girls empowerment in Cameroon. Hailing from a large traditional Muslim family in a mid-sized village, she has persisted against the odds to continue with schooling. She is the third oldest, out of ten children and the first child to continue with her education way into high school (she currently has three more years left). Her older sister, only a few years older, married and with one child already, represented Hadidjatou’s expected future. However, being a very bright student, she wanted to continue with schooling and vowed to herself not to get married until she finished with school. She knew that she could make all the promises to herself that she could imagine, but that in reality, she was not the sole decider of her future. She pleaded her case to her parents and her parents agreed to let her continue with her studies, but stressed that they could not continue paying for it. As a result, Hadidjatou has found odd jobs, such as selling in the market and working in the fields to pay for her school supplies (thanks to her stellar performance in school, the teachers have agreed to pay her school fees). Needless to say, her participation in the conference brought a lot of perspective and life to the statistics that were read during presentations.

Upon returning from the conference, Hadidjatou and I have continued working with the girls who participated in the camp in Lokoti. The girls have so much potential, but so little opportunity to exercise it. To remedy this, they’ve formed a girls club called The Dynamic Girls of Lokoti (“Les filles dynamiques de Lokoti”). During meetings we talk about life skills (similar to what was covered during the camp), do teambuilding exercises, play games and of course, we start every meeting with an icebreaker. The girls have really started to take ownership of the club and be vocal about what they want to do as a group. One example is that the girls wanted to do more sport-type activities. As a result, we started “Sport Samedis” and we do a variety of sports every Saturday morning at 6am (chosen because there are not a lot of boys out at the field to interfere or bother them). Whether we are teaching ourselves how to play soccer, doing some sun salutations or partaking in some traditional dancing and singing, it is obvious that “Sport Samedis” and the club, in general, are wonderful outlets for these girls, many of whom are becoming leaders before my very eyes.

The “Two Thousand Twelve is the Year of the Girl” tagline has been used on a lot of 100th anniversary Girl Scout products, but it many ways it has also defined my year in Cameroon and if the Dynamic Girls of Lokoti have anything to do with it there’s nothing stopping at the end of 2012, Thousand Thirteen is looking pretty bright too!

Leaving the excuses behind, these past few months have been great and characterized by spending a lot of time with friends and family. The setting of a lot of this time was spent at my friend Hadija’s house – more specifically, in her kitchen*. When playing the word association game with kitchen, my name would not come up in the first thousand guesses. I have never been one to spend much time in a kitchen (and the cooks I’m sure were grateful since I can barely tell a teaspoon from a tablespoon), but in Cameroon, women spend hours upon hours in their kitchens. As a result, so have I – the kitchen has become one of my social spheres.

One of the most memorable moments in Hadija’s kitchen was on my birthday in June. I was having a party later in the afternoon for some people in my village at my house, but my meager two-burner gas stove was no match for the amount of food we were planning on preparing. In the morning, I went over to Hadija’s house to start preparing the spread – plantains and spaghetti (yep, that’s a thing), beans, beignets, biscuits, rice, meat, sauce, etc. Just as I was peeling what seemed like the hundredth plantain and wondering how we were ever going to get everything prepared in time, a couple of my friends showed up to help and less than an hour later the chief’s first wife followed suit. Once I got over the shock that I was peeling plantains with the first lady of Lokoti, I felt a sense of normalcy in that this is what happens the morning of a big party in the states when you have a group of great friends – everyone contributes a little time so that no one is carting the burden.

In July, Hadija had to share the kitchen not only with me, but also with my mom, aunt and sister who were in Lokoti visiting. All five of us found a seat and the four of us watched Hadija prepare (in a room that size, the phrase “too many cooks in the kitchen” hits home, so we let the expert do her work). Meanwhile we talked, played with Hadija’s baby and in the case of my sister, had our hair braided by Hadija’s daughters. The best part was enjoying the meal together – tasba (a leafy green sauce) and corn fufu. Before my eyes she made a pile of leaves and some corn flour become my favorite Cameroonian dish.

It is now the Ramadan season meaning that Muslims in Lokoti do not eat or drink from sunup to sundown. As a result, Hadija doesn’t start preparing food until later in the day – around 1:00pm when she starts preparing for dinner (the leftovers of dinner being what is eaten early in the morning). In addition to preparing dinner, she also makes maasé, a type of rice/flour doughnut. A handful of children sell these doughnuts in the marketplace around 6:30pm when men are leaving the mosque after evening prayer and sunset (talk about knowing your consumer market). One of the many things that has been amazing for me is the fact that while cooking she cannot taste-test any of it. I’d be nervous that the sauce might not be flavorful enough or that I put too much salt in something else, but she just knows. I guess that comes with years and years of practice considering that she started learning how to cooking at 8-years-old.

In all of these cases, I cannot help but flinch and express my amazement when Hadija, bare-handedly, lifts a scalding pot from the fire and places it on the ground. She uses no pot-holder, oven mitt or simple rag. She responds in telling me that in two years when I leave Lokoti, I’ll be able to do the same thing. I’m not as confident that I will develop that same skill, but I see myself leaving here being able to do things I couldn’t have done before coming, many of which are from lessons I learned from Hadija while in her kitchen – like creating something from scratch without measuring cups or a recipe book (or in the case of work, excel spreadsheets or an assignment rubric). Her kitchen is at one time a classroom and a coffee shop where I am both student and friend.

* Some insight on the Cameroonian kitchen: The typical kitchen in my village consists of a small mud-brick room with a tin or grass roof. Inside is relatively dark, the door being the only source of light and the ceiling is covered with black soot from the smoke. Cooking is done over a fire with three mud bricks being used to support the cooking pot. Women normally squat while preparing and cooking or use low to the ground stools – there are no counters. The most common utensils and cookware are: sturdy pots, ladles, knives, a flat slab of stone and a rock (for grinding vegetables, spices, etc).