Why yes, he's a very good spaceman indeed.

I’m not going to lie – when I first arrived at post, I thought to myself, “how the heck am I going to live here for two years?”

It’s not that I had reservations about being committed to volunteering with the Peace Corps for two years, and it’s not that Sanguéré-Paul didn’t immediately appeal to me; it was more along the lines of entering a world that was so utterly different that what I was used to -- the sand, the heat, the Fulfulde, the ability to walk the perimeter of the entire town in less than a half hour…

Well, today was a good day; a day that made me realize that yes, I can actually get used to living here. 

Things started off well when I woke up to my alarm at 6:08 and did not have to run to the toilet for the typical morning routine of explosive diarrhea that most of us PCV’s frequently experience.  Yep, it was definitely going to be a good day.

After feeding Grumps a generous portion of fish that I had bought the night before (an interaction during which the vendor asked me why I don’t know how to prepare my own food, and I couldn’t admit to her that I don’t actually eat fish, I was buying it for my cat.  I'd also like to note that my cat’s meal cost twice as much as my own dinner: 20 cents for his two fish while only a measly 10 cents for my two pieces of sweet potato)… Anywhoo…. After feeding Grumps, I went out for my morning run.  Down the road to the bridge and back, twice, smiling and bonjour-ing everone I passed.

On the last stretch back, a bicycle slowed to my speed.  We chatted for a bit before he wished me a good day and sped off, only to be slowed by the sand a minute later, at which point I caught up to him and ran with him the rest of the way home.  While most of the time I had absolutely no idea what he was saying (running with headphones on while trying to converse in a foreign language is apparently no easy feat), it was still nice to have company on my run.  Long gone are the days where kids chased me in Kenya or Zanzibar shouting “Mzungu! Mzungu,” now replaced by kind Cameroonians wishing me “du courage!”  Besides, my name is Nassara now.

So I got back home, and as I prepared for the day with a bucket bath (a luxury I could afford on account of my friend Olivier fetching water for me the night before because he was concerned about my itty-bitty headache that, to be honest, was probably caused by too much sugar and napping), I heard a knock on the door.  I quickly dumped one last cup of water on my head, wrapped a towel around myself, and ran to the door. 

It was my nice grandmotherly neighbor.  After she laughed at my sopping wet head and towel, as if that’s not a proper way to greet someone at the front door, she returned the tupperware that I had delivered cookies in the day before (that’s right! I made cookies!  Without a modern oven!  And I only burnt two batchs and my entire right forearm!)  And guess what?  She had filled the container full of tasty squash that would soon become my breakfast.  Mmm!

After eating breakfast, I headed over to IRAD, the Intitute of Research of Agriculture for Development.  This is my host organization, but because my supervisor lives in Maroua (the capital of the Extreme North), I have not yet had any direction in what I should be doing.  So I walked to IRAD just hoping that there would be something interesting to do for the day, and voila!  A school group from Maroua (a technical school…so after high school, but not quite university, from what I understood) was visiting to take a tour as part of their agricultural field trip.  Perfect!  I tagged along as they went from building from building, and distracted many of the students from their studious note-taking.  My favorite part of this tour was when a student, picked up a giant grasshopper and said with utmost seriousness, “he’s a good spaceman.”  He then proceeded to make the spaceman grasshopper pretend to duel with another student’s grasshopper, upon my request.  Yep, it was a good day.

Eventually it was time for me to leave the grasshoppers and students alone, so off I went to my very first Fulfulde class with a language teacher at Sanguéré-Paul’s high school.  We spent an hour going over all the basic phrases that will help make my life a whole heck of a lot easier here.  At the end of class, I asked Professor Alain if we could agree on a price for each class from here on out (which the Peace Corps would reimburse me for), to which he responded that he hadn’t planned on charging me anything – consider it his way for thanking me for my work in the community.

What a good day!

Walking home, I even thought to myself, “wow, this searing heat and blistering sun on my shoulders actually feels kind of nice today!”

Not every day is like this.  There have definitely been down days.  But it's the days like this, with all of those perfect happy events, that make me feel like I actually can make a home out of Sanguéré-Paul.