France again, France again, jiggity jig!

Maggi, you're everywhere!

Ever since I left Paris, I've been cold. Coupled with my newfound lactose intolerance (and swift reacquaintance with reliable modern plumbing), I was almost convinced that I had malaria. Luckily, I'm pretty sure that was just my hypochondria acting up.

In Paris, I spent most of my time walking around on my way to check out Sciences Po, where I'm thinking of going for grad school. I stayed up by the Gare du Nord and walked all the way down to St. Germain-des-Pres. On my way, I found the world's smallest bakery, had a delicious tiny cupcake and managed to confuse the employee into doing Cameroonian greetings (The 'soir' starts at 12 noon in Cameroon and 6pm in France.). I finally found Sciences Po and in true French fashion, it was a jour ferie, meaning it was closed. Sciences Po is in a really posh area of Paris, located not far from the Deux Magots (favorite cafe of Ernest Hemingway), Swarovski Crystal and Armani. I was getting a little worried that my Anglo-Cameroonian French accent and copious amounts of pagne wouldn't exactly fit in, but my accent is already changing again and everyone I talked to was so friendly.

Metz is clearly very ugly.

After I found Sciences Po, I treated myself to a movie, The Grand Budapest Hotel, and some Smurf gummies. I got to talking with the epicerie owner and I got my first ever "petit cadeau" in France and a standing invitation to go to Morocco. Ready for an it's-a-small-world-moment? His two sisters are both married to Marines stationed in Jacksonville.

Ready for an even more impressive it's-a-small-world-moment? The next morning in my covoiturage (ride-share) to Metz, there was a fellow Jacksonvillian. Not that impressed? He and I went to the same tiny elementary school in a city of 1,000,000 people. My first car ride in Europe was a bit of a change from the petites voitures of Cameroon... Instead of seven or eight people in a 90s Toyota, we were five people in a humongous Audi with leather interior and the new car smell.

Metz was incredible! It was wonderful to see the old crew again and though a lot of the colocs have moved on, we had a good reunion. I went to Bouche a l'Oreille (their slogan is "cuisine du fromage") and almost died from a cheese overload; I thought I was being so good! I ordered a salad on their menu, instead of oeuf cocotte or quiche Lorraine! For dessert, I had the coupe Lorraine - mirabelle sorbet with mirabelle eau de vie. So good!

I got to hang out with Morgane at la Migane and stayed at 32 RdPdM again. My last night a few of the Georgia Tech guys put on a great concert in the basement of the bar and I couldn't stop thinking things like "I knew them before they were famous!" They were wonderful! Afterwards, there was a going away party for Aaron, who's moving back to the States.

And now for the list all of you have been waiting for....

What I've Eaten So Far
-orange juice
-quiche lorraine (team effort from Elaine and me)
-pears
-strawberries
-blueberries
-blackberries
-raspberries
-fromage blanc
-goat cheese with raspberry-apricot jam

-baguette
-blueberry bagel with cream cheese TWICE
-tartiflette (potatoes and lardons smothered in cream and reblochon cheese)
-hot chevre on toast
-pancakes
-omelette sans spaghetti
-rosette
-orange oranges
-tuna (I like it now. Go figure)
-Indian buffet (curry veggies, jasmine rice, samossas, fried eggplant, naan, etc)
-coconut ice cream
-macarons (lime/basil, raspberry/rose)
-merveilleux (meringue, cream, shaved chocolate and wafer dessert)
-doner kebab
-Peeps and Reese's Pieces (Thanks, Glenna!)
-chocolate cake (Gracias, Heather)

Centre Pompidou-Metz

Somewhere during all that eating, I found some time for a little culture. I took an afternoon to go to Metz's Pompidou Center. Like Paris, it's a modern art museum. Unlike Paris, it's a good-looking art museum. They had a special exhibit on paparazzi and the relationship between them and their subjects. At the entrance, there was an installation of cameras, microphones and a red carpet to kind of give you the celebrity treatment. (I think I'll take my anonymity any day.)

Now I'm in Strasbourg staying with Heather and Ludo. This afternoon I'm going to brave the cold and walk to centreville and if everything goes according to plan, sit in a cafe and people watch.

Home Improvement and Witchcraft

I FINALLY MOVED!!!

After three months of waiting and quilting and bothering my postmate, I finally moved into my very own home. I put down my plastic rugs and slapped down my mattress and swept and mopped and mopped and swept!

Then, my friend, Solange, came over with her children and extended family to see if I needed any help. That's when the trouble really began. She told me the power was on, so I got really excited, because guess who has a fridge?! Posh Corps! ....but....the lights were on, but no current was passing (as we volunteers say in our weird translated from French English). None of the outlets worked. NONE OF THEM!!! I did the grown-up thing and laid on my floor and pouted and then did some more mopping and sweeping.

Jon came over later that day to help me connect my stove to my gas bottle via the too-small tube. We royally failed after more than an hour of clamping and wiggling and rolling of eyes and gnashing of teeth. My friend, Pamela,  tried to comfort me by telling me that I had the worst luck of anyone she knew, but that it would get better.

I put my sorrow and despair into a constructive project - I regrouted my whole house, because while I was cleaning paint off my floor (and getting high off the fumes), I managed to get eaten alive by microscopic tiny ants called Canadians.

I later found out the reason that I have an ant problem is because of a woman, who used to live in the neighborhood. She went into the underworld and brought back a bag of ants. Yep, the reason that I have a pest problem is sorcelry. There are a few ways to combat sorcelery in the East - be really religious, keep one particular breed of chicken or eat a cat or a dog. Apparently, you eat cat or dog as a remedy; if you are having nightmares, it's possible that someone is trying to make you their zombie, but if you had dog or cat for dinner, they can only call the cat's or dog's soul and you'll be fine.

After a night spent wishing I had the neck-feather-less chickens, I spent a day unpacking and attempting to get a hold of Major, the guy who doesn't direct the construction of my house. Then, Solange came through again and after her neighbors put my guest bed together, they came to look at my electricity. After 4 days in my house, many trips to Jon's  house to charge things and much weeping and wailing, my electricity works!

And a few days later, the only thing left to finish my bed room is to make curtains and I am a boss at making curtains. I sleep in a bed. When I remember that a fridge is for keeping food good for longer, I have food in my fridge, which is cold. I can change locks, I can put in screens (kinda), I can put together beds and screw in light bulbs. I can attach gas bottles to stoves, I can make the best banana bread ever and really delicious black-eyed peas and I can even sometimes flush my toilet.

Side note: Guess who has amoebas? One more thing to cross off my Cameroon bucket list!

April is World Malaria Month

Malaria has an almost mystical status here in Cameroon. Not many people are aware of what causes malaria or "le palu" as it's normally called. I've heard people complain about bus windows being open, because it lets in malaria more than once. My neighbor has malaria and she told me that it's because her well water isn't good or because she drank bad palm wine. Every cold or head ache can be explained away as a "petit palu."

Recently Malaria No More produced a bilingual song that played all over the radio here in Cameroon. It helps educate people on how to avoid contracting malaria, mostly by the proper use of bed nets. Because there is no vaccine for malaria, so avoiding infection is the only real option. Bed nets are the most effective tool in reducing infection rates, because mosquitoes are most active between dusk and dawn.

The first time that I saw malaria in action, my host brother in Bafia was sick. Darrel is 8 years old and insanely energetic. I woke up one night, because he was crying for his mother. She was out of town proctoring national exams, so her nephew, John, was there to take care of the house, the fields, Darrel and me. Because John had to take care of Darrel, he wasn't able to go to the fields for several days, which can lead to decreased production. (Darrel took the proper medication and was back to normal after a week or so.)

For subsistence farmers or other people who depend on working every day, the money for medication is hard to come by. They often turn to "pharmacy" stalls in the market for a less expensive and often expired solutions. The cost of lost work productivity and hospital tests and medications can mean the difference between money saved for school fees or to buy more nutritious food at the market. The cost of a malaria blood test is 2000 CFA and the cost of Coartem (the most effective malaria treatment for the strain, P. falciparum, which is most prevalent here in Cameroon) is around 4000CFA.

Jupiter sleeps under a mosquito net every night.

While $12 might not seem like a lot to Americans, 6000CFA is 360 limes, 480 bananas, 60 cups of beans, 10 kilos of sugar, 20 blocks of soap, 6 large bottles of bleach, half a water filter, one-fifth of a year's school fees, 60 moto rides, 12 trips to Bertoua, 30 market bags, 12 meters of fabric, 5 large bottles of oil, 90 eggs, 3 cats, 2 handmade dresses, electricity for 6 months, one month's rent for a room or 240 beignets.




We're all trying to do our part here to help bring the infection rate lower. I'm currently working on developing a year's worth of English lesson plans with a health focus, including malaria infection and prevention.

How will you Stomp Out Malaria in 2014?

Kongossa Korner - Dimako Edition

So during stage, most of us thought our amicale was boring and very, very long. I think that our opinions may have been heavily influenced by the fact that amicale was during what little free time we had (3 hours a day) outside of training sessions, model school and spending time with our host families. I was lucky enough to already have French, so my host family time was more hangout and less French immersion.

Anyway, amicale….

I arrived to my first amicale here in Dimako in December prepared to be bored and not follow what was going on for several hours and then to eat food and drink a drink that I’d paid too much for. This was luckily not the case! (Ok, so maybe the meeting part was a little over my head with all the new names and new rules and I will admit that it’s significantly easier for me to zone out of French than English. My eyes may have been vacant and I may have even drooled unintentially. Who knows?)

In September, I learned the first rule of amicale: NEVER SHOW UP ON TIME!!! (Unless you’re an officer) I also learned that one of the teachers had a problem with another teacher. It was never really clear to me. I kinda just assumed that the pissy teacher was just an ass. He was transferred to East Jesus Nowhere halfway through the year and that was that.

So I learned the ropes of amicale. You talk to whoever you sit next to and hope the questions and conversation don’t go anywhere strange (So what do you think about incest? Is it legal where you’re from?). You drink your palm wine and smile at people. You get help on people’s names from the few people whose names you do know. Thank you, Nathalie! (It doesn’t help that some people live in Yaounde and still belong to this amicale. At least they’re still teachers at LT Dimako, unlike that one dude from Lomie…but I digress.) You eat your food and try everything, except taro (bleagh), because it all tastes good.

I’ve recently gotten so good at being late to amicale that I’ve missed the last two. Once because I was out of town, being proactive about my future (GRE) and once because it looked like it might rain and I didn’t want to get dressed. I am an adult.

To continue on my adult responsibility streak I’ve been on lately, I finally picked up my amicale pagne (we all wear outfits made of the same fabric or you pay a fine) and tried it on. There was definitely some gymnastics involved, but I managed to both take it on and put it off  (I had some terrible visions of having to wait till Sunday to ask my post mate to help me change my clothes…). I left really late and missed the whole meeting part (go me!) and arrived just in time for the food.

This group* went all out. There was enough seating for everyone and even though I forgot to order a drink, there was one for me. We didn’t just have the ever-important chicken,** we also had goat! It was soooooooo good. It reminded me a bit of brisket. Yum. And we of course had fried plantains and batons.

Back to the real reason for me to write this entry…I finally found out what happened between those teachers eons ago!

Tomorrow we give the students their 2^nd trimester report cards, so every teacher has been signing their names on report cards next to official comments (Perfect, Feeble, Null, Mediocre, Good Enough, etc.), until their right arms fell off. Because of some computer problems, we’ve been unable to update who teaches which class on the report cards, so Mr. Pissy Teacher is still on there and one of my colleagues was still on there as my students’ French teacher despite numerous changes in that position. Several teachers have been taking advantage of the glitch to say that because their names aren't on their report cards, they don’t have to sign. A few administrators were asking (commanding) that people come in early to sign the report cards, so we’ll give them out completed tomorrow. A few teachers were saying (shouting from the rooftops) that if they were doing all the work, they wanted their names on the report card.

Everyone was pissed and was taking it out on the principal’s secretary, because she’s the person who inputs all the information, despite the fact that it’s not her job. A lot of people took exception to that (and then I got wrapped up in the incest conversation…) and something happened and suddenly the yelling people were different yelling people  and the teacher from the beginning (the not pissy one) was shouting and slamming his fist on the tables.

I thought that he and another ‘nother teacher were going to come to blows. I admit that I was mesmerized and may have tried to eat my cell phone thinking it was pineapple. As soon as the two angry dudes got away from the door, I scooted.

After another 15 minutes of shouting that culminated with the now very pissed teacher shouting, I SHIT ON IT!!! (not sure what), while swinging around a beer bottle, he was finally coaxed onto a moto by his friend (with whom he almost came to blows).

…only to return 5 minutes later, just as pissed. At which point, I thanked the hosts and took my leave.

But anyway, real kongossa (gossip) time! The first pissed-off teacher had very good reason to be pissed with tonight’s contestant for Miss Congeniality. They had actually had a fist fight during an amicale last year! Whoa! And now they're talking about banning Miss Congeniality from all future amicales, which would be really awkward, because he’s in a leadership position at school.

Lessons Learned Tonight:
1. Try to get a seat by the door. You’ll get a breeze along with your mosquito bites and if a fight breaks out, you can make a fast exit.

2. Know intricate details of the American legal system, especially concerning incest.

3. Know how to better describe distant cousins.

4. Always carry a plastique for your doggy bag for cat.

*group - Depending on the amicale, you have at least two people who host together. They generally pay for the food, while the guests might pay for a drink
**If you have a party and you don't serve chicken, you have done a very bad thing manners-wise. Everyone will be talking, until the next millenium about how cheap you were.