Saturday night, I was all set to kill my first chicken. I had my phone on me, so when my host mom called me on her way back from the market, I could head home. I also had some liquid courage in the form of one of the huge beers here. I was set, but she never called.
I got home promptly at 7 and saw the chicken in the wash basin in the kitchen, quietly clucking to itself. Apparently, Stephanie didn't want to bother me, so I had the beer for nothing!
The next morning I got up bright and ugly to just get it done. I was mostly mentally prepared, but then my cousin said I had to go get a sharp knife. (I had heard from other chicken killers that you have to saw the neck forever to kill the chicken and that was the worst part ever).
I went into my bags looking for my knives. I was told to look for one that was really sharp (or "tranchant," which literally means slicing), so I got the one that I know is really sharp and will never forget exactly how good it is at cutting things (for further information look at The Most Dangerous Game).
I walked around the house and out the door. The sunlight glinted demonically off the razor sharp edge. My host uncle grabbed the chicken out of the bucket. He started to demonstrate how to hold down the chicken - one foot on its wings, the other on its feet. The chicken was clucking sadly and molting constantly.
I took a deep breath and noticed the lump in my throat, as I bent down to kill the chicken, I couldn't help thinking about how much damage that yellow knife can do and how much pain it can cause.
I couldn't help it. I chickened out. (Pardon the pun)
My host uncle cut the chicken's head off and after it finished bleeding out, we put it in hot water, so I could pluck it and take the skin off the feet. Afterwards, I cut the claws off the feet and helped to butcher it. You have to be careful, when you open it up, because if you puncture the intestines, you literally get poop everywhere and if you puncture the stomach, the meat gets very bitter.
Cultural note: The gizzard must always be prepared and served with the chicken or your husband will reject the meal and demand, "What the poop?!"* Also, ladies are not allowed to eat the gizzard (not sure why).
Then you take the chicken and put it on the flames to burn off the "hairs." We prepared the chicken with tomatoes, peppers, onions and of course, Maggi cubes and palm oil. Then the chicken cooked on the stove for a few hours and became the delicious meal we enjoyed for lunch, dinner and breakfast.
*Cameroonian men would not actually say, "What the poop?!" but they might come up with another colorful oath.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Model School - Saints and Sex Ed
I started teaching at Model School last week. The whole idea behind it is that we get to practice teaching before we get to our post, so that we don't have to flounder in our real jobs. They also don't want people to have their first day be teaching a rowdy class of 100.
I'm teaching 5ieme, so the students are somewhere between 10 and 14. They seem to let some kids progress really rapidly and then others can get held back several times (One of my friends here teaches 1ere, which is about 11th grade. She has a student who is 13 and will be starting university before he turns 15).
My first day of class went pretty well. We went over classroom rules, which include (proposed by the students) no boxing, no smoking and no drinking beer. So far I have not had any problems with those rules, though I have had problems with students spinning their books, grabbing each other's butts, throwing things and hiding under desks.
My second day of class ended with me in the depths of despair. I walked out and thought, "What have I done? Why am I here? How did I commit myself to teaching for two whole years?!" When I went into the teachers' lounge and voiced all my woes, my fellow trainees said, "It can't possibly be as bad as all that! I'll come tomorrow and check things out! Sometimes my kids are bad too, but most of the time they're decently well behaved."
On the third day, the sun rose and burned through all the clouds. It was hot and dusty and still and I was sure that I was going to have an Old West-style showdown with my 46 students. I walked into class prepared with a story about Stevie, the most unhealthy person ever (He only eats beignets and chocolate. He smokes all the time. He has 5 beers at lunch and 5 more after school and is constantly constipated). Surprisingly enough, no one giggled, when constipation came up. I was like an Evangelical preacher - Should you smoke? (NOOOOOO!!!! says the Greek chorus) Should you drink beer? (NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!) They were honestly the best behaved they've ever been for me. I only had to put three students in the corner for talking and throwing things and didn't have to send anyone to the Surveillant General (the discipline master, who sends wayward students to cut down grass and trim banana trees with machetes. Yes, they do give weapons to the bad kids here...).
I walked out of class feeling pretty good about my class....until everyone came up to me saying that there was "a special place in heaven for people with classes like that."
Since then, my TEFL coordinator, the vice principal and the principal have all come to lecture my class on appropriate behavior and today I only had two kids in the corner and am only losing my voice a little bit.
I am really enjoying one part of model school, though. Sarah and I are doing a health and environment club and after getting permission from the school administration, we did some sex ed. It was wonderful! We were lucky enough that the HIV coordinator for Peace Corps was in Bafia, so we got free condoms, a female condom and a wooden "model." We started our class by talking about why you need to protect yourself, when you have sex. We asked questions like
"What happens if you get pregnant, when you're still a student?"
"You have to stop going to school."
"And then what?"
"No university."
"What happens if you can't do math, because you never learned?"
"People will cheat you at the market."
"What happens if you don't understand science, because you never learned?"
"You can't make things grow in your garden."
etc
Then we talked about what to do, if your significant other doesn't want to use a condom.
"But they're not comfortable!"
"They're more comfortable than having a baby!"
"But they're so expensive!"
"They're less expensive than a baby!"
"Don't you trust me?"
"I do, but I want to protect you. What if I'm sick?"
"I'm going to leave you."
(my personal favorite) "Then go away!"
And then we did some empowering talk - "It's my choice! It's my body! It's my health!"
When we finally got down to practicing putting on the condoms, we had everyone repeat how to do every step and when someone did it right, we all said, "No AIDS, no baby!" and then did the education clap (You do that whenever someone does a good job or to get kids attention).
It was honestly the most exciting thing that I have done, since I got to Cameroon. I felt like it's something that will actually make a difference. Even if one girl (or boy) doesn't get pregnant before they want to, then it's a success.
Where I'm going in the East, teen pregnancy is a really big problem and I'm looking forward to helping people learn to protect themselves and helping the girls realize that they have the power to say no or that they want to use a condom. It was just an amazing experience and it makes all the long hours of training totally worth it.
I'm teaching 5ieme, so the students are somewhere between 10 and 14. They seem to let some kids progress really rapidly and then others can get held back several times (One of my friends here teaches 1ere, which is about 11th grade. She has a student who is 13 and will be starting university before he turns 15).
My first day of class went pretty well. We went over classroom rules, which include (proposed by the students) no boxing, no smoking and no drinking beer. So far I have not had any problems with those rules, though I have had problems with students spinning their books, grabbing each other's butts, throwing things and hiding under desks.
My second day of class ended with me in the depths of despair. I walked out and thought, "What have I done? Why am I here? How did I commit myself to teaching for two whole years?!" When I went into the teachers' lounge and voiced all my woes, my fellow trainees said, "It can't possibly be as bad as all that! I'll come tomorrow and check things out! Sometimes my kids are bad too, but most of the time they're decently well behaved."
On the third day, the sun rose and burned through all the clouds. It was hot and dusty and still and I was sure that I was going to have an Old West-style showdown with my 46 students. I walked into class prepared with a story about Stevie, the most unhealthy person ever (He only eats beignets and chocolate. He smokes all the time. He has 5 beers at lunch and 5 more after school and is constantly constipated). Surprisingly enough, no one giggled, when constipation came up. I was like an Evangelical preacher - Should you smoke? (NOOOOOO!!!! says the Greek chorus) Should you drink beer? (NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!) They were honestly the best behaved they've ever been for me. I only had to put three students in the corner for talking and throwing things and didn't have to send anyone to the Surveillant General (the discipline master, who sends wayward students to cut down grass and trim banana trees with machetes. Yes, they do give weapons to the bad kids here...).
I walked out of class feeling pretty good about my class....until everyone came up to me saying that there was "a special place in heaven for people with classes like that."
Since then, my TEFL coordinator, the vice principal and the principal have all come to lecture my class on appropriate behavior and today I only had two kids in the corner and am only losing my voice a little bit.
I am really enjoying one part of model school, though. Sarah and I are doing a health and environment club and after getting permission from the school administration, we did some sex ed. It was wonderful! We were lucky enough that the HIV coordinator for Peace Corps was in Bafia, so we got free condoms, a female condom and a wooden "model." We started our class by talking about why you need to protect yourself, when you have sex. We asked questions like
"What happens if you get pregnant, when you're still a student?"
"You have to stop going to school."
"And then what?"
"No university."
"What happens if you can't do math, because you never learned?"
"People will cheat you at the market."
"What happens if you don't understand science, because you never learned?"
"You can't make things grow in your garden."
etc
Then we talked about what to do, if your significant other doesn't want to use a condom.
"But they're not comfortable!"
"They're more comfortable than having a baby!"
"But they're so expensive!"
"They're less expensive than a baby!"
"Don't you trust me?"
"I do, but I want to protect you. What if I'm sick?"
"I'm going to leave you."
(my personal favorite) "Then go away!"
And then we did some empowering talk - "It's my choice! It's my body! It's my health!"
When we finally got down to practicing putting on the condoms, we had everyone repeat how to do every step and when someone did it right, we all said, "No AIDS, no baby!" and then did the education clap (You do that whenever someone does a good job or to get kids attention).
It was honestly the most exciting thing that I have done, since I got to Cameroon. I felt like it's something that will actually make a difference. Even if one girl (or boy) doesn't get pregnant before they want to, then it's a success.
Where I'm going in the East, teen pregnancy is a really big problem and I'm looking forward to helping people learn to protect themselves and helping the girls realize that they have the power to say no or that they want to use a condom. It was just an amazing experience and it makes all the long hours of training totally worth it.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
And God called down a plague onto Egypt....
I have not been enslaving Israelites nor am I in Egypt, but the ant swarm that happened in my bedroom was Biblical.
Yesterday afternoon it was rainy and gross out, so instead of battling the weather to go to the bar, I stayed in and read my book, the Fall of Giants by Ken Follett. It was really really good! Read it today!
I spent a lovely, lazy afternoon in my bed reading and got up around 8:00 ready for some dinner. My little cousin and I set the table and put the food out and tucked in. About halfway through dinner, I was thirsty, so I went to my bedroom to get a bottle of water.
What I saw when I turned on the light was nightmare material. There were ants all over one of my bedroom walls. They were all over my hanging clothes, both of my hats, all of my books, my desk, my toiletries...and the list goes on. There were so many that I could actually hear them.
Has anyone else seen The Covenant? (It's a terrible supernatural teen movie about man-witches that I thoroughly enjoyed watching in high school, because those man-witches were cutie pies.) Anyway, there's this nightmare scene where the main lady wakes up because she feels something on her legs and when she flips up her covers, SHE IS COVERED IN SPIDERS. They are on the ceiling and the floor and all over her roommate.
It's pretty yucky. And exactly how I felt last night. I just stood there. I stood there so long that my host cousin came to see what was the matter.
We sprayed them with insecticide and I felt better, but like a bad hippie.
Cultural Note: Apparently the ants here are not as evil as fire ants and protect against snakes. Also, all insects were thought to be people's ancestors, so you were not allowed to kill them.
Yesterday afternoon it was rainy and gross out, so instead of battling the weather to go to the bar, I stayed in and read my book, the Fall of Giants by Ken Follett. It was really really good! Read it today!
I spent a lovely, lazy afternoon in my bed reading and got up around 8:00 ready for some dinner. My little cousin and I set the table and put the food out and tucked in. About halfway through dinner, I was thirsty, so I went to my bedroom to get a bottle of water.
What I saw when I turned on the light was nightmare material. There were ants all over one of my bedroom walls. They were all over my hanging clothes, both of my hats, all of my books, my desk, my toiletries...and the list goes on. There were so many that I could actually hear them.
Has anyone else seen The Covenant? (It's a terrible supernatural teen movie about man-witches that I thoroughly enjoyed watching in high school, because those man-witches were cutie pies.) Anyway, there's this nightmare scene where the main lady wakes up because she feels something on her legs and when she flips up her covers, SHE IS COVERED IN SPIDERS. They are on the ceiling and the floor and all over her roommate.
It's pretty yucky. And exactly how I felt last night. I just stood there. I stood there so long that my host cousin came to see what was the matter.
We sprayed them with insecticide and I felt better, but like a bad hippie.
Cultural Note: Apparently the ants here are not as evil as fire ants and protect against snakes. Also, all insects were thought to be people's ancestors, so you were not allowed to kill them.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Changing Standards of Beauty
In the good old US of A, I think we can agree that at the very minimum, people have to be clean and smell ok and have clean clothes on. And then, for those who hold potential paramours to a higher standard, they'd say that their potential partner should be well-groomed, including having shaved recently and wearing matching, pressed clothes with good accessories and shoes.
This doesn't really take into account things that just happen, because "this is Africa," as Shakira once so poignantly sang. Here only the most high maintenance of men shave their faces twice a week and only the most high maintenance of women shave their legs once a week. Here when your hair is washed, people exclaim over it and demand if you got a haircut or if you did something different. You answer with a smirk, "I washed it." And the exclaiming continues....
We call this phenomenon "Peace Corps goggles."
Here in Bafia my daily wardrobe consists of a dress or a skirt/shirt combo paired with the ever fashionable leggings/socks and sandals look beloved of all German tourists the world over. I then wear my classy sports watch, which beeps at every hour to let me know that I still have many hours to go before I can get out of training.
I have also learned a lot about what Cameroonians find attractive. My host mother is constantly deploring the fact that I've lost weight since I've been here. She says that people will think that she's not feeding me or worse - that she's a bad cook. The night before last she told me that she wanted to make me "bien graisse," which means well-fattened; you would use the phrase for an animal that you wanted to eat. I've also heard that Cameroonians like women "who are more substantial" or "qui a des poids" (have some weight).
Also, strangely enough I think Cameroon may be the only country where big feet are preferred. I was talking to my host aunt and she said that she was jealous of my big feet.
It takes all kinds.
This doesn't really take into account things that just happen, because "this is Africa," as Shakira once so poignantly sang. Here only the most high maintenance of men shave their faces twice a week and only the most high maintenance of women shave their legs once a week. Here when your hair is washed, people exclaim over it and demand if you got a haircut or if you did something different. You answer with a smirk, "I washed it." And the exclaiming continues....
We call this phenomenon "Peace Corps goggles."
Here in Bafia my daily wardrobe consists of a dress or a skirt/shirt combo paired with the ever fashionable leggings/socks and sandals look beloved of all German tourists the world over. I then wear my classy sports watch, which beeps at every hour to let me know that I still have many hours to go before I can get out of training.
I have also learned a lot about what Cameroonians find attractive. My host mother is constantly deploring the fact that I've lost weight since I've been here. She says that people will think that she's not feeding me or worse - that she's a bad cook. The night before last she told me that she wanted to make me "bien graisse," which means well-fattened; you would use the phrase for an animal that you wanted to eat. I've also heard that Cameroonians like women "who are more substantial" or "qui a des poids" (have some weight).
Also, strangely enough I think Cameroon may be the only country where big feet are preferred. I was talking to my host aunt and she said that she was jealous of my big feet.
It takes all kinds.
Friday, June 21, 2013
First Impressions
I know I've been saying for a couple posts that I would put up my first impressions of Cameroon, but I keep on forgetting or coming up with more exciting things to say!
En route to Cameroon, I was constantly cold (thin-blooded Floridian) and when I finally stepped off the plane in Cameroon 6 days late, I was finally warm. I took off my 5lb sweater and let my skin soak up the humidity.
I made my way to Passport Control, clutching my diplomatic passport and attempted to make my way to the right booth. The diplomatic line was closed, so I was stuck at the end of the line marked Autres Passeports/Others Passports (not a typo on my part).
I got my bags with the help of my Program Manager and a couple of PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers. By the way, this organization uses entirely too many acronyms). We hopped into the official Range Rover and left the airport, passing people holding things up for sale. Being from Florida, the land of Disney, my natural assumption was that these must be last-minute souvenirs for tourists.
Boy, was I ever wrong. They were holding up boa constrictors, still filled with meat. They were not souvenirs; they were for welcome home dinners.
In Yaounde, I saw people wearing pagne (think traditional African clothes) of all styles and colors, women balancing plates of bananas, avocadoes, mangoes, pineapples and peanuts on their heads, and houseplants from the US that were 2 stories high.
My first meals reminded me of the kebabs from Metz- sauce blanche and everything!
My second day I was driven from Yaounde to Bafia (where I am now) and I would love to tell you a tall tale about a herd of elephants causing a traffic jam, but I'm afraid the most exciting wildlife I saw were some bright yellow birds that are actually the weaver birds from the Disney Channel original movie "The Color of Friendship." I almost peed my pants in excitement, when someone pointed out their nests in the tree that shades our table at the bar.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
General update: You know how in my last post I talked about the moutemoutes and how they love me so much and that the bugspray is only like piment (the local hot sauce) for them? Well, those suckers not only made my legs look like something off National Geographic and my toenail polish look truly absurd, ....
They gave me a staph infection. Now I'm on two different antibiotics and I think that I'm going to have to be on a third for another infection that's brewing. Vie de merde. BUT I do know how to make yogurt and it doesn't need to be refrigerated, so there we go! Evidently, staph infections are pretty common here, but they're checking up on me all the time. My hope is that I am getting through all my medical nonsense here, so I won't have to deal with any of it later.
En route to Cameroon, I was constantly cold (thin-blooded Floridian) and when I finally stepped off the plane in Cameroon 6 days late, I was finally warm. I took off my 5lb sweater and let my skin soak up the humidity.
I made my way to Passport Control, clutching my diplomatic passport and attempted to make my way to the right booth. The diplomatic line was closed, so I was stuck at the end of the line marked Autres Passeports/Others Passports (not a typo on my part).
I got my bags with the help of my Program Manager and a couple of PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers. By the way, this organization uses entirely too many acronyms). We hopped into the official Range Rover and left the airport, passing people holding things up for sale. Being from Florida, the land of Disney, my natural assumption was that these must be last-minute souvenirs for tourists.
Boy, was I ever wrong. They were holding up boa constrictors, still filled with meat. They were not souvenirs; they were for welcome home dinners.
In Yaounde, I saw people wearing pagne (think traditional African clothes) of all styles and colors, women balancing plates of bananas, avocadoes, mangoes, pineapples and peanuts on their heads, and houseplants from the US that were 2 stories high.
My first meals reminded me of the kebabs from Metz- sauce blanche and everything!
My second day I was driven from Yaounde to Bafia (where I am now) and I would love to tell you a tall tale about a herd of elephants causing a traffic jam, but I'm afraid the most exciting wildlife I saw were some bright yellow birds that are actually the weaver birds from the Disney Channel original movie "The Color of Friendship." I almost peed my pants in excitement, when someone pointed out their nests in the tree that shades our table at the bar.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
General update: You know how in my last post I talked about the moutemoutes and how they love me so much and that the bugspray is only like piment (the local hot sauce) for them? Well, those suckers not only made my legs look like something off National Geographic and my toenail polish look truly absurd, ....
They gave me a staph infection. Now I'm on two different antibiotics and I think that I'm going to have to be on a third for another infection that's brewing. Vie de merde. BUT I do know how to make yogurt and it doesn't need to be refrigerated, so there we go! Evidently, staph infections are pretty common here, but they're checking up on me all the time. My hope is that I am getting through all my medical nonsense here, so I won't have to deal with any of it later.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Man's Best Friend
You may think that this is going to be a discussion of the differences in the treatment of animals between the States and Cameroon, but you would be wrong.
This is about critters.
I have recently been going through this "everything deserves to live and has a place in the CIRCLE OF LIFE AND IT MOVES US ALL" phase. I can tell you now that it's over. Maybe it's that it doesn't really work in Africa.
Right now, my skin is a battlefield. Picture WWI. Mustard gas. Barbed wire. Pus. Blood. The dead and dying. (I may be taking this a little far, when I don't have my camera to upload the poorly lit and fuzzily frightening picture I took of my ankle last night)
There are these things called moute-moutes and they might look like slightly-bigger gnats, but they are not. Darwin would love them. They eat everything - bananas, pineapples and especially me. When they bite you, it stings a little and you look down and there's a spot of blood on your ankle, hand, elbow, foot, whatever. Then you know that you have a giant raised red itchy bug bite with a liquid filled raised head that sometimes gets bigger than a pencil eraser.
There are also of course mosquitos and ants.
And then yesterday, I found out about blister beetles. This is not something I pulled from Harry Potter. They are real. They land on you and inject ACID into your skin, which then peels up like you have been BURNED BY ACID, because you have. I think I might have gotten one.
Right now, there's a mark a little smaller than a deck of cards on my leg that is a really angry red color and is fevery and now my ankle is swelling...just after I got over have swollen ankles and feet from the heat.
Also, last night went to the bathroom. Dropped trou and got ready to do my business and a massive roach raced between my legs to hang out on the doorway, so I was effectively trapped.
I can deal with spiders. I can deal with moutemoutes. I can even deal with blister beetles, but there is something about a roach that I just cannot deal with. I attempted to kill it using my heavy-duty hiking boots, but pas de chance (no luck); it disappeared into the night.
(More happy things to follow. I'll try to get a picture of me with a million bananas soon)
This is about critters.
I have recently been going through this "everything deserves to live and has a place in the CIRCLE OF LIFE AND IT MOVES US ALL" phase. I can tell you now that it's over. Maybe it's that it doesn't really work in Africa.
Right now, my skin is a battlefield. Picture WWI. Mustard gas. Barbed wire. Pus. Blood. The dead and dying. (I may be taking this a little far, when I don't have my camera to upload the poorly lit and fuzzily frightening picture I took of my ankle last night)
There are these things called moute-moutes and they might look like slightly-bigger gnats, but they are not. Darwin would love them. They eat everything - bananas, pineapples and especially me. When they bite you, it stings a little and you look down and there's a spot of blood on your ankle, hand, elbow, foot, whatever. Then you know that you have a giant raised red itchy bug bite with a liquid filled raised head that sometimes gets bigger than a pencil eraser.
There are also of course mosquitos and ants.
And then yesterday, I found out about blister beetles. This is not something I pulled from Harry Potter. They are real. They land on you and inject ACID into your skin, which then peels up like you have been BURNED BY ACID, because you have. I think I might have gotten one.
Right now, there's a mark a little smaller than a deck of cards on my leg that is a really angry red color and is fevery and now my ankle is swelling...just after I got over have swollen ankles and feet from the heat.
Also, last night went to the bathroom. Dropped trou and got ready to do my business and a massive roach raced between my legs to hang out on the doorway, so I was effectively trapped.
I can deal with spiders. I can deal with moutemoutes. I can even deal with blister beetles, but there is something about a roach that I just cannot deal with. I attempted to kill it using my heavy-duty hiking boots, but pas de chance (no luck); it disappeared into the night.
(More happy things to follow. I'll try to get a picture of me with a million bananas soon)
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Tu as bien dormi?
So in Cameroon, there is a particular order that you do all your greetings in. It starts out with "Hello. How are you?" ("Bonjour, ca va?" in the morning or "Bonsoir, ca va?") any time after noon. Then they ask you if you slept well.
My answer on Tuesday morning was "Pas trop!" (Not so much!)
So Monday night, I popped a couple of benadryl to try to get my sleep schedule on Cameroon time, because as my host mother said, "my clock is still in the US." It seemed to be effective...until around 3am, when I woke up with a start, because something was rustling on my Poptarts wrapper.
Now, I don't know about you, but I am pretty paranoid, when it comes to potential critters in my sleeping space. I not-so-stealthily got up and turned on the light. I approached the desk wtih caution. I saw something brownish-grey shoot across the room! Cue adrenaline rush. I spent the next half hour tidying my room and hunting the mouse/frog/boogeyman with varying degrees of success (My room got tidy. The Creature remained at large).
After another half hour of counting sheep, I was finally settling down to my midsummer's nap, when something FELL ON ME inside my mosquito net. It may have been the Creature. It may have been a cafar (a cockroach). It may have been a bobby pin...
The world may never know.
(PS First impressions of Cameroon/Bafia/Yaounde/etc coming soon!)
My answer on Tuesday morning was "Pas trop!" (Not so much!)
So Monday night, I popped a couple of benadryl to try to get my sleep schedule on Cameroon time, because as my host mother said, "my clock is still in the US." It seemed to be effective...until around 3am, when I woke up with a start, because something was rustling on my Poptarts wrapper.
Now, I don't know about you, but I am pretty paranoid, when it comes to potential critters in my sleeping space. I not-so-stealthily got up and turned on the light. I approached the desk wtih caution. I saw something brownish-grey shoot across the room! Cue adrenaline rush. I spent the next half hour tidying my room and hunting the mouse/frog/boogeyman with varying degrees of success (My room got tidy. The Creature remained at large).
After another half hour of counting sheep, I was finally settling down to my midsummer's nap, when something FELL ON ME inside my mosquito net. It may have been the Creature. It may have been a cafar (a cockroach). It may have been a bobby pin...
The world may never know.
(PS First impressions of Cameroon/Bafia/Yaounde/etc coming soon!)
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