Machetes, Hoes, and Gardening Woes [Part 1]

Mommy dearest informed me the other day that many of you folks back home are a wee bit confused and concerned that I am not quite qualified for a job in agroforestry.

        

    “Does she even know how to garden?”

        

    “What is she going to do with that machete?”

    

        “Isn’t she afraid of all things creepy-crawly?”

If you are among those who are asking these questions, well, I’m right there beside you!

Peace Corps Cameroon has five sectors:  Education, Community Economic Development, Health, Youth Development, and Agroforestry/Environment. 

When I applied, I knew that I wanted to do some environmental work.  It was definitely my preferred choice, though I didn’t actually think I’d be accepted into this sector because they say you need at least 3+ years of working on a farm or something like that.  What experience do I have?  My major in college focused on agriculture and environment and I minored in environment, but in a practical sense?  Hmm… Well, there was that one time that I helped my mom pick some raspberries that one summer… Does that count for anything?

So yes, when the Peace Corps handed me a machete, a hoe, five pounds of chicken poop, and said “go and till the land,” I was a wee bit overwhelmed.  Nevertheless, I happily accepted this job and gosh darn it, I’m going to be the best darn farmer that Cameroon has ever seen!  (Eventually!)  What qualified me for this job?  I’m a quick learner, a hard worker, and I love to smile.  That’s all I need!

All that being said, I’d like to tell you the tale of beginning my home garden, in which I am supposed to plant green beans, moringa, nightshade, and something else that I should probably know the name of but can’t remember.

I was debating whether or not I should post this story, because at first it is not a happy story.  It’s a story of struggle – the first true struggle that I experienced during my Peace Corps career.  However, my tale wouldn’t be true if I only included the ups.  What’s important is to remember that everything will work out one way or another.  If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.  

And thus it begins.

Day 1.

As I am still having difficulties with the language barrier, I was somehow under the impression that my host-dad had taken two days off from work this week to clear some giant field for me miles away.  Okay…probably not miles, but everyone kept gesturing “over there, over there,” so I just assumed it was FAR.

I would have felt pretty bad if he actually did take the time to clear a field for me, but fortunately (or unfortunately, as I would soon realize), this was not the case.

When I asked where I could put my garden, Epiphany pointed to this tiny little plot of dirt by the laundry line – an area that was totally littered with trash.  No good.  Mama pointed to a plot where a beautiful blossoming garden already existed and said they would clear it for me.  No good.  Papa showed me a hugely overgrown plot by the side of the road.  It’s like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, but I keep burning my mouth on the darn porridge!  (or soup?  Maybe it’s soup.)

I chose option C.  Papa and I put on our work clothes and got to work with our matching machetes.  It didn’t take long before I realized I am not cut out for this gardening stuff!  Papa managed to clear most of the area in the time that I uprooted one single weed.   After 15 whacks with the machete, my arms were sore and my hands were blistered.  Everyone that passed gave me words of wisdom (“Du courage, ma fille! Du courage!”), but there was also a lot of laughing at the weak little American girl (rightfully so).  We agreed that I should just watch and learn for a while.  Stand back and look pretty – that I can do.

While standing around keeping Papa company, I had the opportunity to observe all the creepy crawlies.  I saw a grasshopper get eaten by a baby chick, and felt sad for the grasshopper.  Then I saw the baby chick nearly get hacked up by papa (accidentally), and felt sad for the baby chick.  

Eventually we called it a night.  I drowned my sorrows in a Luna bar before bed, and the only thought in my head was “je déteste le jardin!”

I felt a bit defeated but I won’t give up just yet.  

[Continue to Part 2]

A day in the life of a Peace Corps Trainee

This post has been taken directly from my journal. It's quite lengthy. Sorry bout that... Happy reading!

Homestay day 9. [27/9/2013]

I have so much to say but I'm so exhausted and all I want to do is lose myself in a good book and just escape for a moment. Not that I'm looking to escape...it's just that I'm so tired all the time. French is exhausting.

Each morning I get out of bed at 6:30AM (6:00AM if I am ambitious enough to go for a jog). I begin my day with a few little morning exercises and stretches (trying to create good habits for myself), then I hop into the shower (cold showers only; occasionally bucket baths). I sneak back to my room to prepare for school. (I guess I should call it "training", but it really feels like school.)

I meet my neigbors, Clare and Lianna, to walk to school at 7:20AM. We like to be early to talk to other volunteers and to use the internet, but sometimes I am late for meeting them because I am a wee bit confused by the breakfast situation. I'm supposed to eat breakfast here at home everyday, but sometimes mon pere tells me to go buy bread. For everyone? For myself? Am I supposed to bring it back here or have a sandwich made on the way to school? (A chocolate sandwich, of course!) Sometimes I have an omelet sandwich. Same problems... Am I making the omelet or is Mama? Am I bringing it and putting it inside bread on the way to school, or buying bread to bring back here? Do I really even need bread with it?

It really is a non-issue, but it clearly demonstrates the confusion that is my life... confusion created by a language barrier.

I feel like I'm improving at least a little bit though. Or at least I am understanding more and have a lot more confidence when speaking. My language trainer, Michelle, has been a HUGE help. She laughs at everything, which makes it a really fun/light atmosphere for learning. There are only two of us in the class. We always start class with grammar, but end up going off on huge tangents, such as describing our ideal man, discussing our favorite foods, or playing with the adorable little kittens that hang out by our outdoor classroom (one of which I might purchase to bring to my post in a couple months!). I will definitely be sad when we switch language trainers in a couple weeks.

Rarely do we not have language class. Some days we have it for three of the four sessions, totalling six hours. Those are the worst days. Like I said, I love my language class...but dang! Six hours is a darn looong time! By the end of these days, my brain is so fried that I literally begin saying "blah blah blah" instead of the words I don't know. It's after these days that we usually need to go to the bar before returning to our homestays.

Non-language classes include technical training (during which I am quickly learning that I know absolutely nothing about farming), cross-cultural training, medical stuff (when are these shots ever going to stop?! At least I don't cry anymore...and these Dora the Explorer band-aids are pretty sweet), safety and security, and some other nice / helpful / sometimes intimidating / sometimes scary things.

Most days after school (4:30PM-5:00PM), I return to my homestay immediately. Usually Mama has already begun preparing dinner, so I join her in the kitchen house. If she allows me, which is totally dependant on my ability or lack-there-of, she'll let me chop up or peel some veggies. If not, I just sit by her side and keep her company, asking as many questions as I can to learn more about her life or Cameroon in general. Mama is unbelievably patient with me. She will sit and listen as I struggle to spit out a comprehensive sentence, and then she will ever-so-politely correct my mistakes in grammar or pronounciation before giving me a very thorough answer.

I don't think I could have asked for a better host family. Mama is helping me so much with my french. Papa is always there to make me laugh or to make sure everything is a-okay (or to blast Beatles music to wake me up in the morning, which is AWESOME!). Fifteen year-old Epiphany is quiet but willing to teach me how to do simple things, and she has the most amazing, pure, genuine laugh that always puts a smile on my face. Ten year-old Patricia is always there to remind me that I am never alone (and our jump-rope competitions are a great workout!) Patricia is great company. Our first bonding moment was over goats. It was special.

We usually eat dinner pretty late -- between 7:00PM and 8:00PM. I've heard that this is the time that some other trainees go to bed, or at least retreat to their bedrooms for a break from francais et famille. Dinner is always amazing, and so far it hasn't ever been the same thing twice. Mama is still insisting that all vegetarians eat fish, and thus so must I, but that's alright...I'll deal! She even got me to try shrimp last night. The taste was pretty good, but I'll admit that I couldn't help but think that they looked like itty-bitty magots (or I guess big maggots...either way, ew.) There is always fresh-squeezed juice after dinner -- orange juice, grapefruit juice, or my favorite: wild mango juice. A great dessert and a great way to wash down all that fishy goodness!

After dinner, I help Epiphany wash the dishes. We do have a kitchen sink, but I guess it is more efficient (time-wise, space-wise, and water-wise) to wash the dishes in a big basin outside. Epiphany washes and I rince (I am not yet strong enough or skilled enough to do all that scrubbing myself...but hey! No complaints here!)

We usually finish the dishes around 8:30PM or 9:00PM, at which point I am exhausted. I make the rounds to say "bon nuit", wash up with a quick shower and brush my teeth, and then read until I fall asleep (which usually happens pretty quickly, unless I hear a mouse in my room or on the roof).

In the morning, it all begins again!

Somedays I don't go home right away after school. Instead, a bunch of us will go to a bar for drinks. We have a 7:00PM curfew, but I always try to be home before 6:30PM to beat the sunset. Though we don't have much time at the bar, we sure do get rowdy! It's always such a relief to not have to think in French and to just let loose. It's also an awesome group of people, too. It may be due to our similar interests, or the fact that I just generally love everybody always, but I genuinely enjoy the company of all 54 other trainees in our stage. They truly are amazing. Not only are they a fun-loving bunch, they are all so caring. For example, I left the group at 6:10PM yesterday and arrived home to text messages from four different people checking in to make sure that my ten minute walk was safe.

So I guess to sum it up, I could not possibly be with better people, and I could not possibly be in a better place. Though exhausted at times, I am having an absolutely fabulous time so far in Cameroon. It's only been two weeks, and I know that 27 months is a loooong way to go, and yes, I know that I should expect some lows during my service, but right now I'm riding on a wave of happiness and I'm incredibly excited to see all that is to be discovered here in Cameroon!

Strength

My ten year old sister, Patricia, has bigger muscles than I could ever hope for. 

Before leaving for Bafia, one of our host PVCs in Yaoundé gave us the following words of wisdom:   

“You are stronger than you think you are – physically, mentally, and emotionally.”

At the time, I understood the need for mental and emotional strength over the course of the next 27 months away from home, but I didn’t quite understand the physical aspect.  Welp, by my first weekend in Bafia, I began to recognize just how physically demanding living in rural Cameroon will be. 

Let me just say: African women are STRONG.  Mentally and emotionally, I’m sure, on levels that I’ll probably never fully understand, but right now I’m talkin’ physical.

Let me tell you about my first Sunday here in Bafia.   It was our first day off from training.  (Yep, we have “school” on Saturdays too!).  I woke up at 6:15AM to go to church with Patricia.  That was the easy part:  sit, stand, kneel, stand, sit, etc.  Classic Catholicism.

When I returned home, it was time for laundry.  Although we do have running water in the house, water for laundry must be feched from the well.  Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever fetched water from a well before, but I’ll tell ya – pulling up a bucket-full of water 20 or 30 feet is not an easy task for someone who has floppy spaghetti arms! Mama was kind enough to set up the wash basin and bench right next to the well so that I wouldn’t have to transport any water just yet.  Baby steps, right?

So anyways, I dumped a weeks worth of clothes into the water and ventured into the kitchen to help Epiphany (my other sister) grind peanuts for a delicious peanut sauce to be eaten with leafy green veggies later at dinner.  One arm to turn, one arm to hold the machine steady.

I was thankful to see the last peanut turn to mush, although that meant it was time to return to my laundry. 

Time to hand wash all of my clothes!  It was novel for a while, but once an hour flew by, I was pooped.  Had there not been so many people nearby, I probably would have just dunked my clothes once, performed the “smell test”, hung them up to dry, and called it a day.

After thoroughly wringing out all my clothes to dry (sidenote: in an exhibit at the Smithsonian…something about Pilgrims or something rather… there’s a “game” to test if you have enough strength to properly wring out clothes to dry.  I failed.), it was time to go back to the kitchen to help peel plantains.  Fifty of them.

Once finished, I sneakily retreated to my room to rest for a minute or sixty.  No such luck!  Within seconds, Patricia was knocking at my door.  It was time to go to the pump to get some drinking water. 

She led me between houses to someone’s yard, where half a dozen children were waiting by a pump.  I had brought two big jerry cans with me, but quickly realized that I was a bit over-ambitious when I saw the children with wheelbarrows to help transport their water.

Fortunately, the man who owned the pump was there to do the pumping and all I had to do was hold the jug steady.  Patricia carried the empty jug while I awkwardly carried the full one.  And I truly mean awkwardly.  Everyone we passed chuckled at my struggle (in a nice way, I guess.  Or maybe not so nice, but I totally deserved it).  Heck, people even came outside of their houses to watch my struggle.  I don’t know how these women and children do it everyday!  Wheelbarrows, I guess, but also so much physical strength!

Patricia assures me that after living in Bafia for two weeks, I will be strong enough to carry back both jerry cans full of water.  I can assure you this won’t be the case.

But I am sure of one thing: between fetching water, hand-washing my clothes, and making homemade peanut butter, I’m going to be a regular ol' muscle-man by the time I come home!

Let's talk about food.

*Warning: This post may come as a shock to anyone who has ever known anything about me at all.*

You’ll never guess what I had for dinner the other night: a little bit of snake and a little bit of croc! Yep, that’s right, folks! After six (maybe seven) years of being vegetarian, I decided to break the fast with some good ol’ fashioned reptile!

But let’s back up a few steps.

We arrived in Bafia on Wednesday, and immediately settled into our homestays. They first thing my Mama (sorry real Mommy – this is what I call my new Cameroonian mother) asked me was if I eat fish. Of course she already knew the answer; it was on the bio sheet that she had received a few days prior. My bio sheet contained the following important information:

• Really stinkin’ bad at French
• Wants a bazillion cats, or maybe a llama, but is afraid of dogs
• Willing to share Starbursts but STEP AWAY FROM THE NUTELLA
• Eats no meat, no chicken,no fish. Hates milk and eggs, but will choke them down if absolutely necessary.

So as the night went on, Mama and I sat in the kitchen-house as she cooked, conversing with my broken French to her incredibly patient ears. I discussed my family and, well…errrm… I guess it stopped there. My “day one” vocabulary was très limited.

Soon enough, that infamous question popped up again: “tu manges le poisson?” Errrm, non. Non, merci. Jamais. I explained that my family lives close to the sea and fish is super-duper popular where I come from, but ick. Just ick. I have never and will never like fish.

Mama assured me that I was wrong. The previous volunteer that she hosted (I am number 9) never ate fish before coming to Cameroon. After living with Mama for three months, he LOVED it.

Hrrrrrrm… Okay. Well maybe someday I’ll try, but absolutely positively definitely not today.

Fast forward to dinnertime. I serve myself a hearty serving of vegetables and rice, and Mama plops down a few bites of fish on my plate and asks me to try it. In the meantime there is a plate full of shiny fishies in front of me, eyeballs still intact, staring right back up at me.

I put up a good fight, but in the end, Mama always wins. I tried the fish.

Then I had seconds.

Fast forward a few days. Maria Breaks Vegetarianism: Bush Meat Edition.

Spontaneous wedding invites seem to be common in my travels to Africa! On my first Saturday in Bafia, I was invited by another volunteer, Mayra, to attend her host-sister’s wedding. I received the invite about a half hour prior to the start of the wedding, and quickly changed into my fancy skirt (read: the skirt that I wore the day before but is still mostly clean).

Earlier that day, Mayra had told us about how when she left the house in the morning, she saw snakes being cut up and a monkey being pulled tail first out of a pot. For some reason, I thought nothing of this.

Upon arriving in Cameroon, and even after eating fish the other night, I had my mind fully set on maintaining vegetarianism throughout my entire service. Yet for some reason, when my friend Matt and I started talking about trying snake at this wedding, I became super giddy. It’s now or never.

We passed on the monkey and the chicken feet, but decided to split a hunk of snake and heck, while we’re at it, how about a hunk of crocodile too! (Or at least it was something in the croc family. Species not yet confirmed.)

And guess what?! I’d totally eat it again!

A friend from home (shout out to, Markalark!) gave me the wise advice to try crazy foods in Cameroon... Little did I know it would happen during the first week!


Edit: I would like to say that I do not condone the eating of bush meat (even though it can be yummy!)

Miss me yet?

First off, I want to say that I am alive and well in Yaoundé, and no complaints thus far!  Just got back from an interactive dance performance and dang!  You guys haven't seen "twerking" until you've been to Cameroon.  I mean, holy moly!  If I can leave here with even one ounce of the dance skills of Cameroonians, I will be a happy camper.  We haven't had much time to explore or get to know the place yet, but the other volunteers are absolutely awesome. 
 
But let's back up a minute.  Let me tell you about my extremely long journey over here.

Oy...  Will I ever learn to pack light?  I thought I was doing so well, having everything laid out weeks ago.  The night before leaving, my darling momma helped pack everything into my two bags (a giant rolling duffel and a hiking pack), and we had each one weighing in at 49.5lbs.  Yikes...that's pretty darn close to the limit, but still acceptable.  Then I realized that I hadn't packed any shoes.  Scrap that whole "two bags" idea.  I then loaded up another mini carry-on duffel.  And I really mean LOADED.  How?  With what?  I don't even know!

Then disaster struck.  I woke up at 5:15AM, after not being able to get to sleep until 3:30AM.  Packed my backpack full of my electronics til it was bursting at the seams, and decided to weigh all of my bags one last time just to quadruple check that they were under the weight limit.  MY HIKING PACK GAINED AN ENTIRE POUND OVER NIGHT?!  50.5 pounds?!  What the heck?!  This thing must have been gaining weight from all of the Nutella it consumed.

It wasn't until we were in the airport parking lot that I began to unpack a few things, and it's a darn good thing I did -- the scale rang in at 100 pounds on the nose!  Phew!

I thought I was safe.  However, we arrived at JFK airport on the 12th and learned that our carry-on luggage had to be under 12kg total.  Mine were 20kg, and that's not even counting Stanley the Manly Unicorn.  I then spent the next hour frantically trying to jam my 15 pounds of candy into other people's underweight luggage and rearranging my bags to avoid having to pay the $150 fine.  Yep, I was that girl.  It all worked out in the end, and I celebrated the feat with a scoop of hazelnut biscotti gelato before boarding the plane. 

Seven hours on plane one, ten hours in the airport in Brussels, and eight hours on plane two.  We arrived at the hotel and had dinner at 1:30AM, Yaoundé time.

So here we are!  I've begun my adventure, and I am feeling absolutely amazing.  I have full confidence that it's going to be an incredible 27 months.  I could not be happier!  We have a few more logistical things to figure out here in Yaoundé, and then on Wednesday we will all move to our homestays in Bafia (or Bokito for the Health volunteers), where we'll begin training.

Not entirely sure what my internet access will be like for the next little while, so don't expect much.  Just hang tight and know that your favorite Maria is safe and sound and absolutely loving life!  

Ta ta for now!

Makin' headlines!

In case you didn't know, I'm leaving for the Peace Corps tomorrow!  You can read about it riiiiight HERE.

Quotes and Quotes and Quotes

I don't know what it is, but I seem to be on a rather bizarre sleep schedule recently.  Or rather, I'm not on any sort of sleep schedule at all.  It's 3AM, and I'm lying in bed fully awake and jittery as if I've just consumed three gallons of coffee.  Three gallons of coffee is a lot, right?  I wouldn't know... I don't even drink coffee.  So what can you do when you're wide awake in the wee hours of the morn with no sign of sleep in sight?  Share all your thinkythoughts and feelies with the internet!  Here we go!

Only a measly ten days before I leave for staging in Philadelphia!  I've been scrambling around trying to make sure I have everything that I will need/want for the next two years.  This includes about 15 pounds of candy and three jars of Nutella.  Yesterday I spent the entire afternoon sitting in front of all of my gear, staring at it, organizing and reorganizing, and giggling with excitement.

A few weeks ago, a friend asked me if I was nervous.  "How can I be nervous for something that I've been wanting for my entire life?"  It seemed so plain and simple.  Nervous?  Nope, not me.  I was born for this.  I've wanted this for so long, and now that it's fast approaching, there should be no ounce of emotion other than excitement.

As staging gets closed and closer, this attitude is getting more and more difficult to cling on to.  I find myself filling with little fears.  Nothing too major -- after all, this IS exactly what I want to do.  I'm not really nervous about the new environment or new culture or anything like that; that's the part I find exciting.  I'd say I can attribute all of my anxiety to three main issues:

1. Making new friends.  This is just like going off to college all over again!  Sure, give me all that crap about how everyone is in the same boat, everyone is in a new place and looking to make friends, blahblahblah.  Okay, true... I know that everyone else is in the same boat, but it's still scary as all heck!  I mean, what if no one else shares my love of unicorns or understands my intense love of ice cream, or worse: what if no one else speaks cat?!  Although I must admit, this fear has mostly been squashed thanks to the PC Cameroon Facebook group that has allowed me to shamelessly stalk err... "meet" many of the other volunteers.  They seem like pretty awesome humans.  I think it might work out.
2. Gosh darn it, I'm gonna miss my mommy!  (and other family and friends)!  Need I elaborate on this one? 
3. I keep having visions of me curled up in a ball all alone in the corner of a little mud hut.  Is that normal?  Probably not.

Anyways, I was originally coping by distracting myself with smutty novels and Grey's Anatomy.  However, I've decided that now is a good time to begin re-reading the Unofficial Peace Corps Volunteer Handbook.  This nifty little book gives advice for each step of the Peace Corps journey, from the application process all the way to returning to the good ol' U.S. of A.  As I was reading tonight, I found myself getting distracted by the quotes tucked away at the bottoms of the pages.  I ended up not reading the actual content of the book, but instead flipping through the pages to read all of the quotes.

I know no one wants to see a giant compilation of quotes (or maybe that's your jam...who am I to judge?), but I wanted to jot them all down here anyways.  I think they'll all be incredibly useful to remember while in Cameroon, and I know if I write them on a piece of paper, I'd lose them.  (Can't lose the internet, right?)  Plus, they are much better than quotes from my mom: "You should listen to your butt." -- Advice Unicorn, 2012.  Probably nobody will understand this reference.  Maybe someday you will be so privileged to meet Advice Unicorn.  Today is not that day.

"This is the time to awake, while you are young and strong." -- Buddha

"It's better to travel well than to arrive." -- Buudha
 

"If you judge people, you have no time to love them." -- Mother Teresa

"Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished." -- Lao Tzu

"The best effect of fine persons is felt after we have left their presence." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

"I can learn from every man and in that he is my superior." -- Henry David Thoreau

"If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head.  If you talk to him in his own language, that goes to his heart." -- Nelson Mandela

"Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work.  And the only way to do great work is to love what you do.  If you haven't found it yet, keep looking.  Don't settle." -- Steve Jobs

"To straighten the crooked you must first do a harder thing - straighten yourself." -- Buddha

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy." -- Martin Luther King, Jr.

"The shortest answer is doing the thing." -- Ernest Hemingway

"As he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness." -- Henry David Thoreau

"Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions.  Small people always do that, but the really great ones make you feel that you, too, can become great." -- Mark Twain

"Never confuse movement with action." -- Ernest Hemingway

"Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake." -- Henry David Thoreau

"Enthusiasm is one of the most powerful engines of success.  When you do a thing, do it with all your might.  Put your whole soul into it.  Stamp it with your own personality.  Be active, be energetic, be enthusiastic and faithful, and you will accomplish your object.  Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

"The person who says something is impossible should not interrupt the person who is doing it." -- Chinese Proverb

"What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think.  This rule, equally arduous in actual and in intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Choose a job you love and you'll never have to work a day in your life." -- Confucius 

"You can only become truly accomplished at something you love...Pursue the things you love doing, and then do them so well that people can't take their eyes off you." -- Maya Angelou

"We make ourselves rich by making our wants few... A man is rich in proportion to the things he can afford to let alone." -- Henry David Thoreau

"Better than a thousand hollow words, is one word that brings peace." -- Buddha

"Go to the people, Live with the people.  Learn from them, Love them.  Start with what they know.  Build on what they have.  But with the best leaders, when the work is done the people all say, 'We have done it ourselves.'" -- Lao Tzu

"Never go on trips with anyone you do not love." -- Ernest Hemingway

"The wisdom of this idea is that someday we'll bring it home to America." -- John F. Kennedy