Vive le Dash

This is not for the squeamish or faint of heart for this is a tale of war. In Bogo, I inherited a home passed down through three generations of Peace Corps Volunteers.   One thing this meant it was kept relatively clean and with relatively good upkeep.   Obviously any slob of an American could make that generalization null and void, but we do tend to come from higher standards of cleanliness.   This cleanliness extended to my latrine, which was always clean, used regularly by only one person, and well constructed.   It was disconnected from the main home and, categorized as an improved latrine, had a nifty exhaust allowing airflow above anyone's head.   Thus it never smelled.   My latrine inside my lovely new home did.   It reeked.   First task: remedy. I'd been told of a few easy fixes.   Apparently you can put a decent amount of sawdust down the hole to help cover up the odor.   I also heard a liter of kerosene could do the job and had the benefit of killing off cockr

Well, I've a new post.   A place to go.   It's called Mbakaou and, no, I can't pronounce it myself.   It's near a place called Tibati which is slightly easier to find on a map and also pronounce, but I've a tendency to mess that one up too.   I've spent a grand total of thirty minutes in a fly-by with the Peace Corps so I really don't have much to give you.   Course when has lack of knowledge ever shut me up? The first noticeable feature is that is right beside a giant lake.   They built a hydroelectric damn and thus provide electricity to my tiny town.   Thus there is also a river nearby.   Moving from the desert to a forested, water wonderland is going to be an obvious change of pace.   I probably don't need to reiterate how much I like the water.   I am looking very much forward to living by it. Now all this water apparently brings money to the village in the form of fish.   Oh joy.   Regular readers are also well aware of how much I enjoy eat

Presented with some free time, I'm hiding out in the city of Ngaoundere.  Ngaoundere is the regional capital of the Adamawa region.  Quick geography lesson (pull out your handy Cameroonian map you likely keep beside your desk):  Cameroon is composed of ten regions.  The two western most regions Southwest and Northwest are "anglophone" which I put in quotes because I've never understood a word any anglophone has ever said to me.  Then you have the West, Littoral, and Centre all sort of in the middle with money and govenerment and such.  Next up we have the South, conveniently located in the south, and the East which is a huge rainforest complete with pigmies.  Finally, there is the Grand North, my home, consisting of the Adamawa, North, and Extreme North. The Adamawa may be in the Grand North, but it doesn't resemble the Extreme in the least.  It is lush and green and cool and hilly and it rains a lot.  The North is at least arid and hot, if not as deserty

Foiled again.   Quite possibly I'm just bad luck.   I have been less than forthcoming with information regarding the security situation in the Extreme North of Cameroon.   We are supposed to keep tight lipped about what we are doing and with good reason.   There are terrorists afoot. Back in February a perfectly nice French family was kidnapped in the Extreme North of Cameroon by a terrorist organization called Boko Haram.   C'est l'Afrique.  The Peace Corps responded immediately and everyone consolidated into what were not bunkers but that sounds cool so let's just say that's what happened.  Complete with armed guards to wait out the storm (that part is true).   I was down south for training so I had it easy compared to the close quarters of those left behind.   You'll remember when I went to the beach and played in waterfalls.   Like ya do.   They did a security evaluation of the situation--the terrorists are based in Nigeria and the kidnapping took plac