Vive le Dash

Made a decent joke at my clinic today.  I make a lot of jokes naturally, but it is harder to do in French and in Cameroon.  As best I can reckon, their humor is about something bad happening to someone because they made a mistake.  Or possibly witchcraft.  They don't do sarcasm, which is unfortunate because I still use it endlessly.  They just believe me, poor souls, unless I state something so completely and obviously false they know I must be lying. So the Chief of the Health Center walks into the clinic and, stating the obvious per Cameroon, says, "It's just us today; no sick people."  That's been incredibly common of late on account of a variety of reasons: Ramadan fasting means no meds allowed, fishing is out of season means no money, and rainy season means you might get wet (seriously, no movement allowed when it rains, but to be fair they are walking or riding on a motorcycle to go anywhere).  We've discussed these reasons ad nausium, ...

The mortality rate in Africa is much higher than in America.  While I've reduced some of my recklessness with age and no longer regularly chase and jump onto moving vehicles (something of a high school hobby), it was less than a year ago when I permanently scarred my hand by setting it on fire.  Over a matter of twenty dollars.  Still, I assumed that I was more likely to kick to bucket in Africa to some strange disease or a run in with gorillas (militant or otherwise).  But no, I've come to the third world to electrocute the shit out of myself. I believe that I've been shocked at least nine times since I've gotten here.  That's a lot and just thinking about it makes my arm tingle.  I can blame a few on faulty wiring, but… well, most other volunteers don't seem to shock themselves at all.  Correlation is not causation, but this common denominator (me) is worth investigating. The majority have been due to computers.  There was a ...

Ah, I can finally rest easy.  It was nice while it lasted, strange African family, but I'm glad it is at an end.  We played together.  You managed to destroy every toy I let you lay your hands on (soccer ball, jump rope, cards, UNO, flashlights, death trap of a water heater, et cetera).  I translated all eight of the Harry Potter movies from English to French and learned that while baguettes might normally be loafs of bread, in Franceland they also refer to magical wands (don't even begin to talk to me about horcruxes).  A number of fantastical words were exchanged.  I'm sure they will prove useful later in my life. Thank you Mama Alice, Amelie, Pitou, and Naomi for visiting.  It may go down as one of the weirdest and most unexpected parts of my African vacation. Hey, Amelie, you remember that time we unexpectedly ran into that bush on a moto?  Man, drivers in this country.  Am I right?  I told you wearing a helmet was wort...

You've been a good bunch so today you are rewarded with a picture post!  Seriously though, I forgot to mention it, but we broke 10,000 page views a little while ago.  I me an half are m e trying to see if it uploaded correctly and the other half I would assume are my lovely mother reloading constantly to see if I've updated .  (Mom, I'll teach you some tricks so that it will tell YOU when I've updated.) I took a little tour of Lake Mbakaou .  I take walks there pretty regu larly where I run into surprised Africans who ask me if I'm lo st and then wonder at ho w I, the white man, walked there .  " But you aren't accustomed to walk ing!"   It's awesome.  Right now t he whole thing is practically full since rainy season i s in full swing ( every. damn. day.).  Lots of my paths are flooded , but from atop the da m it's like looking at the ocean. That's the view from the road.  You can see the path in the gr...

Sometimes I find my work incredibly frustrating.   There are a lot of things that I could blame like poor/often non-existent educational system or the fact that most NGOs seem to just distribute free shit making that the assumed stereotype for foreigners in Africa.   However, like with most things, a bad day at work might just be the combination of a shitty night of sleep, French-fatigue, and REALLY loud children constantly underfoot (there is a reason Peace Corps Volunteers have a reputation for uncommonly locked doors… and excessive drinking whenever they make it to a big city).   And so, on this particular day these poor villagers were undeserving of my wrath. I was tired and the whole presentation on HIV and AIDS just didn't go like I wanted.   I always give them in French and my counterpart translates them into Fulfulde or Biya or just possibly just random noises so that I'll think he's doing work.   As I've mentioned, I can usually at least follow the ...

C/O: God Dear Teej, Fuck.   Fucking… fuck.   I cannot even enunciate the growls and guttural sounds that are my best attempts at expressing myself.   Are you familiar with the stages of grief?   I seem trapped in a loop: Anger mixed with moments of extreme, honestly terrifying, sadness peppered with occasional bouts of denial.   I'm trying desperately to not direct all this at you, but you really haven't left too many other culpable parties.   Damnit, I just want to break things, burn things, and blow shit up.   And then run away (course when you've already made it to Bumfuck, Africa there isn't anywhere to go). Then there are other moments.   Like earlier today when it was just me in the bush.   The wind, the endless trees and shrubs, and the sky big as it only seems to be when you there isn't a human soul in sight.   Beautiful and all mine.   It was a place you would have liked. A brief glimpse of something infinite. ...