Fundong. Wait, isn't this cheating?

Hello! Currently, I am writing from my future living room in Fudong, Cameroon! Last Wednesday I discovered where I will spend the next two years living and work. It was decided that I will placed in the English-speaking town\city of approximately 40,000 people. After deciphering the journey consisting of a sort of bush taxi relay, winding hills, good laughs, new friends, new foods and broad horizons I found myself tucked into the mountains semi-deep inside the Northwest Region of Cameroon. Now, after being here for a few days, it appears it is destiny.

After the standard Cameroonian greeting, consisting of a long serious of unorganized hand shaking, finger snapping and wandering but yet engaged eye contact, new comers are certain to hear their Cameroonian conversational counterparts exclaim, “You are welcome! You’re welcome to Fudong—you are welcome to Cameroon.” Actually, you’re more likely to hear it at least three times before you finish your meet and greet.

So perfect, trust me. Even without the repeated affirmations of how welcome you may be you feel it. From the moment our bush taxi entered the Northwest I could feel the energy change. It is so vibrant. So many of the people, at least the one’s I have met so far, are incredibly warm and open. It is interesting to begin sifting between the many pronounced cultural differences and practices between here (Fudong) and the place I presently call home (Bokito). First difference—among an almost infinite—is language. The Northwest and Southwest regions are entirely Anglophone. While there are, without a doubt, many differences I’ve only been here a few days (and in Cameroon for a few weeks) so my feelings are just that, feelings. I’ve nothing concrete to truly write home about in regards to comparing Anglophone and Francophone Cameroon.

SO! Fudong! It’s a divisional capital city. It get a bit confusing so let me ‘break it down’ (Sherry, remember last time I tried to break it down? Ha!). Cameroon is organized into regions. There are two Anglophone regions—the Northwest (soon to be home!) and the Southwest. Every region has a capital city. In this case it is Bemenda. Every region is broken up further into Divisions which, too, have their own capitals.

My new city, Fudong, is the divisional capital of the Boya. It’s population is approximately 45,000 people—but this includes the many neighboring villages. I was in the planning division of the health clinic\hospital today and discovered 2011 Health Area Epi Statistics—it was said that the Fudong health area was approximately 22,000 people. While it’s population seems quite big it’s really approachable and not intimidating in the least. 

There are several ethnic groups here in Fudong—chiefly the Kom people and a heavy scattering of Fulani’s. Fulani’s are Muslim Cameroonians who are usually herdsman and shop owners—though many Kom own many shops too. Because of these two influencing groups there are many languages here in Boya division—English, Pidgin (hybrid-Creole type English), Kom and Fulani—not to forget about some French because of those people who’ve migrated from other regions and many government officials sent to work in the Northwest. So many languages to learn! It’s a language bonanza—every day! For instance, while meeting and talking with some Francophone military man my counterpart greeted the men outside waiting in Kom, I followed suite in English. Spoke English to the military man while he answered completely in French and occasionally chatted with two Fulani men in Fulfulde. I jumped in with some French and pulled out my English crutches when necessary. Before you knew it my counterpart involved the Fulani men in the conversation all together—but this time while speaking in Kom because they spoke that too. All this in one office. I’m ready for more.

Speaking of counterparts! So much of my excitement has to do with my community host, Simon. Firstly, a community host is just that—a person who is very familiar with the community who is a key contact person to help us PCV’s becoming acquainted with our new homes. He has also worked in the past as some PCV’s counterpart—meaning a community member who PCV’s pair up with to work. Simon is amazing—simple put. He has as much energy as I do—maybe even more. I know, imagine that! He is the director of the Better Family Foundation (a local NGO), a teacher, student, pastor, husband and father of three. The man wears many hats! He is like his own think tank and is constantly coming up with new fresh ideas and approaches to make his community better—if only he had more hours in the day. His organization tackles things like community water projects, STI\HIV training, family planning and anything else local communities are willing to address. Totally awesome. Word on the street, too, is that there are many community groups who are established and ready, able and willing to do some good work which is always exciting. So it appears the possibilities are almost endless here!

Onward with the beauty! Look for some photo’s of the Northwest region—particularly Fudong—it is soo beautiful. Firstly, the climate is much much more temperate than the rest of the country. It is cool here in Fudong. We’re nestled in some lovely looking hills and mountains; which often make travel quite difficult. For example, Alissa, lives a mere 55km away. It takes 3-4 hours on a motorcycle taxi when the roads even permit the ride. Here we go. It is so incredibly green too, with the awesome contrast of the red dirty, ::sigh:: It reminds me a bit of Tuscany, Switzerland and Ireland rolled into one. Hiking around here is great and seemingly never ending!

My new house—unspeakably unbelievable. I live in the ‘Teacher Quarter’ in what Cameroonians refer to as a compound—which is essentially a cluster of houses. My neighbors are all professionals—principles, doctors, nurses, business people etc. They’re children are all darlingly adorable and kind. I have three bedrooms, one larger than the other. In my master bedroom I even have an exposed brick wall! Two bathrooms, one with HOT WATER! (Most volunteers are lucky to have steady access to water and electricity let alone a hot water heater—this is actually unheard of. I am the only volunteer in country with one!)

Not to mention I’ve got a stellar host here in Fudong—Stephanie. Who has graced me with delicious dinners and great introductions to my neighbors and future friends. (Thanks, Steph!)

All of these fortunes and goodies simply leave me wondering; wait, isn’t this cheating?

I’ve so much more I want to share but it is getting really late.

As always, nothing but love and smiles!

So...I ate a snake.

So, I ate a snake. (8/10/2011)

(Firstly, I am working diligently on pictures! It is tricky to take them here in Cameroon-- particularly in my village. Compound that with wretchedly slow 
internet it is tough).

Reporting live from Bafia, Cameroon. Bafia is a small/medium sized city about twenty-two kilometers away from Bokito, the village us Health volunteers  complete the majority of our training. It is a beautiful day and I am sitting outside in the shade with my shoes off-- perfect.

My training here in Cameroon, thus far, has been really nice. Getting to know my fellow Peace Corps Trainee's (PCTs) has been maybe the most enjoyable  apsect. Our group is pretty awesome. I feel we've an awesome balance of personalities and world-views. Ranging from the mildly deranged clown types (like myself) to steadfast seriousness. Sometimes finding time to spend together outside of the classroom setting is a bit difficult seeing our curfew is when the  street lights come on. Those are the hypothetical street lights of course. It gets dark here quite early-- by 6:30pm the moon wins the daily dance battle with the sun. Our official curfew is 7:00pm, at which point it is completely dark.

I am finding myself at a loss for words. I truly want to recount all the wonderful things I see and feel-- but quite honestly I don't even know where to  begin. And, at the same time, all of this is becoming a lot less romantic to me; no less wonderous, just a little less romanticized by the day. I am really 
comfortable here in Cameroon. Maybe not in YaoTown-- but out in the country in Bokito. Who would have imagined I've become a rural bumpkin?!

I am, officially, going through guitar withdrawal. This is a true fact.

Ma Famille:
I live in quite a bustling household. We are a total of ten (10), nine (9) exlcuding myself! There are four bedrooms in my family's house; one of which is  exclusively for me. I feel a bit selfish about this at times but have literally no choice in the matter. This is like one of those 'just deal with it and 
move on' realities. I find myself coming across a good amount of them as I stay here longer-- but have a burning to change each and every one of them. I am  convienintly, and not coincidently, located very close to the school where we do our training six days out of the week's seven. My family is comprised of a 
mother and father (both who rock in so many ways), as well as 7 siblings of sorts. The ages range from 5 (maybe 6) to twenty. The eldest is Marcel, a twenty  year old cousin from Yaounde who has come to Bokito for school. All of the children go to school and study a good amount-- among a barrage of other household 
chours. If anybody reading this is thinking, 'oh, I did a ton of chores growing up too' let me take this moment to promise you not like these Cameroonian children. Not even close. Every morning everybody is up and awake by 6:00am-- the latest. Washing, washing, washing and washing. Sweep all the floors, water 
them down, clean the entire kitchen top to bottom, begin prepping the day's food, washing clothes and shoes etc. This is all before school even begins! We Americans do not do a thing in the morning. My host-siblings are totally awesome. They have a huge chalk board in the dining room where they practice English 
and math after school. Rock and roll.

My host-parents are quite expectional in many ways as well. Firstly, they seem not to perscribe themselves to traditional Cameroonian gender roles despite 
their lack of education. (It seems a large divide between traditional gender roles and worldviews in general is education). I posit this difference to the 
fact that they are not only married but business entrepreneurs together. They own a fish store next to their house, sell cooking oil in the Bokito Monday 
Market, as well as a variety of other neighboring markets, and also find time to head over to the plantation to work the fields for macabo (a Cameroonian 
root delight-- imagine potato, meets yam, meets cassava ?).

Daily Life:
I eat lots of fish. Just last night I ate some snake. This came about because I found myself laughing everytime they were surprised I enjoyed the food they 
prepared for me. I continually tell them I eat 'tot!' (everything!). So two nights ago, I reminded them of this and they laughed and said 'Ok, then we're 
eating snaking this week.' Well-- I ate it! It is a delicacy here in Cameroon-- it is also a man's food. Women in Cameroon do not eat snake. So it was 
Stephen's various of cross cultural immersion, male bonding and Bizzare Foods rolled into one diner episode. Pretty sweet. As for my loving of snake-- ehh, 
not bad. If you find yourself with it in front of you at your next meal-- may I suggest being weary of the skin.
As I mentioned-- training is quite long and seemingly ever present. For example, this morning (Saturday) I was awake at 6:00am in order to catch the Peace 
Corps bus to Bafia for a session on Cameroonian gender roles followed by some lanaguage instruction. We usually do our training sessions in Bokito however 
some sessions are joint with the Youth Development and Agroforesty PSTs---another fine group of individuals if I may saw so myself. Right, training. It is 
going well. We talk a good amount of capacity building and grassroots organizing-- seeing those are some of our chief responsiblities. Reinvigorating stuff! 
Peace Corps also peppers in a good amount of tangiable knowledge regarding diarrhea, malaria, water, community mobilization etc.
Thus only being here for about two full weeks I've seemingly archives of observations-- particuarlly around water, hygiene and sanitation. This discussion 
could go on forever so I will give the bold highlights.

--Many MANY people here rely on open wells for their water. Meaning a good old fashion hole in the ground-- drop a bucket in and pull it up for your water. 
Do I need to even go on about this? Health, safety, hygiene disaster. It is amazing to see what a means (capital) translates to.
--The cleaning ethic here in Cameroon is present, pervasive present and well. A tremendous amount of people shower at least two times per day. My family 
thinks I am a savage (not truly savage though) because I do not shower every morning-- though I shower every night. Another vast difference is in appearance. 
Appearance here in Cameroon, like many post-colonial nations, is of paramount importance. People spend a tremendous amount of time assuring their clothes are 
ironed and prestinely clean-- this includes shoes. I was sent back inside the house so I could change because the soles of my Converse's were a little dirty. 
And I when I say a little dirty I mean not even close to dirty as per American standards. In Cameroonian standards, however, they were utterly filthy. Oh 
cultural differences! Though the cleaning ethic is here this does not always translate to incredibly hygienic surfaces. It is an interesting tight rope to 
walk and a seemingly dauntingly task to adjust behavior change surrounding hygiene-- specially in regards to hand washing and water hygiene. As my mantra 
goes, 'here we go.'
--I have had NO gastrophenomenons. I haven't even had a sniffle since I've been here! Within the end of the first week a fellow PST had came down with 
ameboas. That. is. crappy. As for myself-- my theory has been continually proven correct; I've the stomach of a billy-goat. I have an on-going joke that I 
will NOT get sick ONCE and CERTAINLY will NOT have diarrhea. I wish I could share the bold laughs I get when I say that with you all.
--It is not overwhelmingly hot.... in the shade. I honestly do not know the daily temperatures-- but I assure you not crippling. However, the sun is indeed 
much stronger down here closer to the equator than say, Tampa or New Hampshire. The sun is what will get you- at least here in the rainy seasons in Bokito.
--I have already witnessed evidence of what I would call 'Jack-ass volunteerism.' This involves a lack of foresight and knowledge about how to affectively 
implement productive community development projects. The elementary school ( simple a collage of buildings with no electricity or ammentities) was given a 
well by some 'kind' Americans. These folks failed to create a water committee to manage the well and/or train community members about the well. They, 
evidently, placed the well in a less than optimal spot (or failed to drill deep enough) because it dried up in less than a year. This is a common theme 
throughout the developing world and especially here in Cameroon. Reading about instances like these and yielding the advice by countless professors is one 
thing-- seeing the skeletons of development projects gone a muck is another entirely new enraging experience I'm trying to navigate.
--My host-family's house is worthy of Bokito's version of MTV Cribs. Seriouslly. I've a flush toilet and a shower head! Indoor plumbing! Electricity! I am in 
the lap of luxury. Niether of these ammenities worked upon my arrival and the electricity only just came back on yesterday or so.
--We've been told that Cholera is present in neighboring cities and even in our village. Truth? Questionable. Cholera itself is indeed endemic here in 
Cameroon. They have been experience a few outbreaks over the past few years. Hopefully this is just something that blows over. Don't worry. I treat my 
already respectably clean tap water like there is no tomorrow and my family does a great job (Cameroonian standards) preparing meals. I'm in the cholera 
clear. Don't fret, America.


On a Conceptual Note: Where AM I?! Help me change this paradigm.

'Africa'. This word immediately evokes a slew of both imagery and emotion-- both negative and positive (depending on your experience and/or education it 
seems). When you read this word, Africa, what are some of the things you think of and envision. Seriously, what do you?
I imagine your thoughts regarding this continent were quite bad, huh? The discourse surrounding Africa is horrific. The word 'Africa' is most often used very 
pointedly to describe a place that is riddenly destitute, decrepit and dysfunctional among other things. When people say, 'Oh, that's Africa for you' it is 
not harping on Africa's beauty and omniscience. This is maybe understandable seeing main brunt of the Western world only hears about the famines, the 
disease, the war through their  respective media outlets. The continual broadcasting of negative imagary only builds upon the already polluted and shaky 
post-colonial paradigm that is 'Africa'. This mold is overwhelmingly homogenizing-- when we know there are over 50 countries on the continent comprising of 
thousands of distinct cultures, languages, cosmologies and ways of life-- not even to mention the fact that there is more gene diversity (within human 
beings) here on this continent than anywhere in the entire world. Actually-- I am more likely to have more DNA similarities and commonalities with one of my 
Cameroonian language trainers than one of my fellow Irish-American neighbors. Chew on the for a moment.
The biggest tradegdy I've come across thus far is hearing Cameroonians, Africans, telling us PCTs that 'this is Africa' when attempting to reason why 
something goes wrong, late or not according to planned. Breaks my heart. So, every breathing human being, please challange yourselves and help us change the 
dialogue surrounding 'Africa.' If you've something unsavory to say regarding something that happened on this land that is the size of three continantal 
United State's, at least mention what country it was in as not to further taint the rest of this place. If you don't know much about Africa, sure the unkown 
can be 'exotic, romantic and different, but embrace the unkown-- no reason to fear the unknown. If somebody asks you where I am, please don't say Africa. I 
rather you say you didn't where I was. Tell people I am in Cameroon. And my experience, while it may echo other Sub-Saharan African volunteer's experiences, 
is Cameroonian-- and part African. Reserve the word for what it is, beautiful, wonderous and bountiful.
As always, nothing but love and smiles.