What I learned about weaves

Once upon a time, way back in a land called Bafia, I considered the idea of shaving my head.  Knowing that this was a drastic change to make, I decided to wait until IST.  If I still wanted to shave my head after IST, then I'd definitely go ahead and do it. 

Well, IST came and went, and I was telling my fellow beach-goers on our last day in Limbe about these plans and how I no longer had the desire to shave my head.  But of course, that only sparked excitement.  Everybody decided right then and there that I should chop off all my hair, and it didn't take long before i was totally on board with the idea. (If all of your friends tell you to jump off a bridge...err...i mean...something like that.) 

The scissors and comb were ready to go, but since it was our last night at the beach, we needed to get one last swim in.  We got in from the beach around 11PM, and while I was showering I was secretly hoping that everybody had forgotten about the hair-cutting.  Nope, not the case!  Edith, who I had only met a few days before, had the scissors in hand and was ready to cut away! 
 
Anyways, let's skip forward a bit.  Now I have a lot less hair.  Well actually, that's not true.  I still have a lot of hair, it just happens to be in a ponytail inside of a plastic bag in my suitcase instead of on my head.  

Back in the States, I had always wanted to donate my hair to some sort of cancer charity.  Now that I'm in Cameroon, what am I going to do with it?  I'm going to sell it!  Or at least that's what the plan was.  The lady at the hotel reception desk told me I could make 150,000CFA ($300!!!) by selling my bundle of hair.  Excited at first, I quickly learned this was not the case.  Never the less, I was going to try!    

My buddy Matt came along for the adventure, walking with me from salon to salon in Yaounde.  

The first few salons told us that, yes, we do feel how nice and soft it is, but the boss is out and she probably wouldn't buy it even if she were here.  After getting this response three times, I no longer was taking this hair-selling mission seriously, and it became more of an experiment.  

Eventually along our walk, we came across a beauty school!  The boss-lady was in fact there, and she was incredibly nice and explained to me why I would have trouble selling my hair.  Here is what I learned:

Cameroonians love weaves, there is no doubt about that.  Cameroonian women are also willing to spend big bucks for nice human hair.  However, salons usually buy this hair imported from Europe and already made into a weave.  My hair, which is a bit more than a foot long in the ponytail, would be a good length if it was already turned into a weave.  However, it is not.  The ends would have to be treated and basically folded under themselves in order for someone to attach it to their head.  This would cut the length of my ponytail in half, making the weave very short (and no Cameroonian woman likes short hair, as I learned very quickly since my own haircut!).  Furthermore, it appears that nobody in Yaounde has the necessary machine to turn the ends into a weave.  Therefore, it would be very difficult to sell. 

The lady took my number and told me that she would ask her students if they would want to buy it to practice or experiment with, or maybe to use as extensions, but that the most I would be able to sell it for is 40,000CFA (she never did call back).  She was quite certain that I would have better luck selling it in Garoua, because "there are cows up North, and where there are cows, there is money!"  I haven't tried this yet, and don't know that I will.  Either way, it has been a fun adventure!  Matt and I had a lot of laughs, and I learned more than I ever thought I would know about weaves!  

Home Sweet Home

After a month of traveling, I was more than anxious to return home to Sanguéré-Paul.  It was great to visit other regions of Cameroon, but there is something special about the folks up North, and I was beyond ready to be reunited with them.

As soon as I got on the bus in Ngaoundéré, I could already feel the warmth and kindness of the Northerners around me.  Women were greeting me in Fulfulde and smiling incessantly at me, the man next to me kept up a friendly conversation without asking me to be his wife, and one lady even bought me a water sachet at a rest stop.

As the bus drove on, the scenery changed.  The soil was no longer rich browns or reds, but instead had changed into the dusty sandy tan that I have grown used to. The trees became more and more sparse.  Houses turned into huts.  Villages were scattered with people lying out and taking naps.

When I finally arrived back at home, one of my best friends, Tabitha (Olivier’s mom), happened to be next door at my neighbors’ house.

“Maria! Bon arrivée!”  She ran over and embraced me in the biggest bear hug, her two youngest children trailing behind to hug me too.  “You said you’d be back on the 15^th, so the children went and swept your house and arranged everything, all the while chanting ‘Maria va venir! Maria va venir!’”  We exchanged stories of all that had happened while I was gone, and then she left me to unpack while she went to collect seeds.

As my mother knows very well, I don’t unpack.  I left my overstuffed suitcases right where they were in the middle of the living room, and since I arrived right smack in the heart of mango season, I decided to walk down to the carrefour to buy some mangoes and to greet some more friends.  As I walked down the path, a group of children approached me.

“Miriam! Miriam!”

“Non, c’est Maria!!  Bon arrivée, Maria!” 

It may have taken a month of absence but the kids finally know my name!  I didn’t recognize any of these kids, but they sure knew me!

I kept walking, only to be stopped by a group of women seated on a mat, preparing to eat lunch.

“Bon arrivée!  You were gone for too long!  Come taste this sauce!”  I didn’t recognize any of these ladies, and I had already eaten lunch, but I joined them anyway.  We chatted and laughed together as we ate, and made plans to cook together soon.

Finally I made it to the carrefour.  I said hello my onion man, and then my favorite boutique owner.  “I didn’t know you were leaving!  I kept asking, ‘where did madame go?’ But you are here now, and I am so happy!” 

Finally, I said hi to my favorite fish mama – the woman who keeps Grumps fat and happy.  When she saw me, she started dancing and ran over to give me a hug.  

I am touched by how excited people are to have me back.  I’ve been in Cameroon for more than six months now, and in Sanguéré-Paul for nearly four months.  In just four months and this village has become my home.  

I remember when I got my post description back in October, I was far less than excited… Terrified would be a more accurate description.  I wanted a post that was lush and beautiful – full of greenery, rich soil, fruits and veggies, and maybe a waterfall here or there.  (Is a waterfall really too much to ask for?)  I feared the 120º weather and the severe lack of water.  I feared malnutrition from lack of fruits and vegetables (but let’s be honest – we all know I would choose nutella-rice over veggies any day.  And yes, ‘nutella-rice’ is an appropriate meal and not weird at all.  It’s delicious).   We joked about how the next volunteer would find me curled up in the corner, covered in cobwebs, clutching a bottle of wine, with tick-marks on the wall marking the days gone by.  Perhaps that’s a bit dark, I know, but that’s how not excited I was to be going to the North.

Well, four months have gone by, and I am certain that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.  The culture in the North is calm and kind, and I could not feel more at ease.  I have a community host and a counterpart who strive to be an active part of my life, and I have lots of projects lined up for the future.  I’m even kind of beginning to like the heat (though right now it’s hot season – 130º in the sun, 105º in the shade).  But most importantly, I have friends who feel like family, and who have made me feel like Sanguéré-Paul is my home.  No waterfall in the world is worth what I have here in Sanguéré-Paul (though if a waterfall were to magically sprout up, I certainly wouldn’t oppose!)

And on top of it all, my neighbors have a brand new baby goat!

Black sand beaches and bioluminescence

Oh hey there, world!  It's been a while.  Sorry, I kept meaning to post something, but you know... I was just way too busy having an awesome time at the beach.

 
A month ago today, I began the journey down south to Bamenda for IST (In-Service Training).  The 53 volunteers from my stage reunited for ten days of training at a luxurious hotel (real mattresses and hot showers!).  We spent the days in sessions, learning information about crucial topics from project planning to finding funding, and spent the nights mingling, watching TV and movies, and happily consuming countless boxes of wine (and bottles when we eventually wiped the supermarkets clean of boxed wine).

Once training was finished, I was beyond ready for a break, so seven of us loaded our bags and boarded a bus for Limbe!  After nine hours of sitting five to a four person row and random men hopping on the bus to deliver live infomercials (ginger pills that remove all bad things from your stomach and nail polish remover that cures your headaches and poor eyesight if you sniff it for just a few minutes), we were ready for swim.  We dumped all of our bags in our hotel bungalow and ran right into the waves! 

Because it was nighttime and I hadn't seen this beach before, I was a wee bit nervous about mysterious creatures that could be lurking in the shallows.  However, the water could not have been more perfect.  It was nearly the same temperature as the air, and so crystal clear so that we could see the our feet reflecting the moonlight -- a nice contrast against the smooth black sand.  The waves were perfect too:  big enough to body-surf or to feel like you were jumping on the moon, but gentle enough for us to feel safe recover quickly after each break.

Then there was the best part of all: bioluminescence.  Magic sparkly thingies that light up like underwater fireflies, but only in response to your body's movement against the waves. 

It could not have been a more perfect introduction to our beach vacation!

After that first night, we spent each morning swimming and lounging on the beach.  Then we'd head into town to see all the neat things that Limbe has to offer, which turns out to be a lot! 

The first day, we went to Down Beach, which is known for it's fish market.  I ate a nice big plate of white rice while my friends each ate fish and baton de manioc.  (I've learned well enough by now that if you travel to a beachy place, people are going to want seafood, and I'm just going to have to suck it up and hope that there is ice cream around the corner.)

An oil rig off the shore of Down Beach.

The second day, we went to the botanical gardens.  Unfortunately, all of the signs were too old and worn out out to read, but we saw some pretty darn impressive trees!  This day also happened to be Women's Day, so we went to a bar to celebrate ourselves (kudos to Matt for celebrating us ladies with us!).  We missed the parade (guess that's what happens when you lounge on the beach all morning), but we were still able to see many women wearing matching Women's Day pagne. 

 

Sarah, Matt, and I, standing in front of a gigantic tree.

Our last day, we went to the wildlife center to hang out with some monkeys!  

 

My mother, looking pensive.

We ended each night with some night-swimming, and woke up at 6AM on our last day just to get one final dip before the bus back to Yaounde.  It was a vacation that I hadn't realized I needed, but boy oh boy, did I need it!

I wrapped up my journey with a few days in Yaounde and a St. Patty's Day party with other PCVs in Ngaoundéré.  Then yesterday, I finally arrived back home in Sanguéré-Paul, greeted by many bear-hugs and "bon arrivée"s!

*Note: Bamenda is in the Northwest region of Cameroon.  Limbe, the Southwest.  Yaounde, the Center.  Ngaoundéré, the Adamawa. Sanguéré-Paul, the North (if you didn't know that one -- get outta here!).  In the past month, I've traveled to five of the ten regions of Cameroon!*