Vive le Dash

Turns out I'm not ready for it.   Who knew? Ok, it really isn't that bad.   There are some surprising perks.   I'm getting really good at UNO for example.   I tell myself that it does a good job of teaching kids about numbers and colors and such.   The kids learn things about critical thinking and why it's not a good idea to hold three wilds to hope for a quick out.   150 points easy, little bitches.   And I make them add up my impossible scores to support their learning of arithmetic.   Actually, you know what?   Feel free to nominate me for father of the year. We have exhausted my collection of American films in French.   Forrest Gump and The Pursuit of Happeyness held up well across cultures (though I had to explain all the cultural references in Gump).   Some of the other stuff like Gown Ups or Haunted by my Exes are just kind funny.   There are some random action flicks like Red or 300 that are good on rainy nig...

My French has greatly improved.   I study it like it is my job (which I suppose it sort of is) and every day I get better.   Cameroonians often are amazed at how well I speak when I tell them I learned it in country and arrived only ten months ago.   But the thing is I'm mostly just good at pretending I know what is going on.   There are certain conversations and phrases that I know so well I can fly through them as well as anyone.   Often these are just filler I've learned specifically for this.   Back when I lived in Italy, that was my game.   To get really good at certain bits and see how long I could fool an Italian into thinking I was native.   Problems arise from this game.   A) people assume you are better than you are and thus don't clarify anything and B) you can easily miss key information and to admit such is to lose the game.   For example: you might hear a sentence from your host-mom like "We will come and visit you and I wi...

Malaria pisses me off.  It pisses me off for a number of reasons, but the main one has to be the fact that it is entirely conquerable.  We used to have malaria in America, but we destroyed it.  We did it in a very American fashion by killing every mosquito we could find.  This included the use of everything from now banned chemicals to literally covering ponds or other sources of standing water with oil (I saw a great PSA recommending this; someone should find it and post it).  Given there are still mosquitoes in the States, these last efforts weren't the real source of victory, but massive roll outs of bed nets, screening houses, and actually taking drugs did. Malaria kills untold millions of people across the world and particularly in Africa.  The devil in me says that we have a population problem anyway so who cares ?  B ut wait there is more!  It doesn't kill most people, it just makes them reoccurringly sick.  To ask someone in Camer...

Hotel's beach Lunch downtown Happy as a lamb

Mbakaou is the site of a giant dam.  At first I thought my regular electricity was due to it since it is run by the electric company.  Turns out they use it to control the water flow for one of their dams downstream.  All they same; they have to keep it running and that means they keep me running.  Thanks guys! This is the monster from the lake side.  Picture doesn't really do it credit. That's one of our lovely fishermen out on the river.  It's probably the biggest thing I've seen in country. Here is the river side from the top.  You can see my village off to the right.  Or some of the shiny metal roofs.

She had been watching me through the crack in the courtyard door for some time.  What is this strange, pale creature?  It looks to be a man, but unlike any man before seen.  An older child enters and takes her by the hand to the back of the courtyard where the rest of the family lives.  I stop my reading on the porch and sit inside by the window to work. Eventually she wanders back around front.  Alone and brave.  Curious to see where I had gone, she edges closer to my door.  Poor thing never sees my eyes peering out the window.  I press against the wall by the door and wait.  She cautiously steps over the threshold… I pounce in front of her on all fours letting out a low howl.  Screaming, she falls backwards.  Scrambles on all fours crying. I laugh at our little game.  And so do the other children who now comfort her.  But she's not like to forgive me any time soon.

I've mentioned it before and I'll mention it again: it can be quite hard to figure out what exactly you are supposed to do as a Peace Corps Volunteer.  Our mandate is vague to say the least.  Future volunteers should know that before signing up.  I was excited and enthusiastic about the freedom, but a lot of the time I find myself wishing I had more structure and support.  Having projects is a lot about luck; I fell into most of my projects in Bogo and I've had the good luck of falling into them here too.  (I think agricultural volunteers have the worst of it since they have to contend with planting seasons and weather on top of luck.  People at least have the decency to stay relatively unhealthy year round for us health folk.) First thing a PCV is supposed to do is protocol.  That is to say, you have to introduce yourself to all the important people in the neighborhood.  Cameroonians tend to take protocol pretty seriously in general and...