Just relax
So, this first day of the millennium has been marked as one of rest. Anita and Anicet have decided to leave, so we bid them adieu. Akilah and Becky decide to walk to a store in the area and pick up a few items for breakfast. They’re intending on making french toast and eggs. Me? I just chill.
They returned rather quickly, though they had to go further into town than planned. As I was catching up on my journal, they prepared french toast. I kind of messed up, as I was to go past one of the area stores to get sugar, I never made it out.
While fixing breakfast, I heard voices in the front room, and as I walked out of the kitchen door, I almost walked into Patty, a PCV who was formerly the manager of the Yaoundé case. Talk about startled. She’d just arrived with her mother and sister Olga. They’d just returned from a trip to Europe.
We all got acquainted. After eating breakfast, we sat in the living room area with them and kind of talked for a while. I was truly amazed by Patty’s mom. Turns out she has slowly been losing her hearing since age eight. Somewhere around thirty-eight she began learning English and American Sign Language (ASL); she’s a native Spanish speaker. And here I’m worried about learning French at age thirty-four. Now that’s inspiration.
Dinner was tortillas. Yep. Homemade (so to speak). Becky and Akilah made the tortilla shells, black beans, tomato and onion salsa, and guacamole. Of course I ate all but the guacamole. I’m kind of timid about trying it. I’ve never tasted anything from an avocado before (at least not that I know of). Everything was actually pretty good. If at all possible, you should cook in; eating out can be overly expensive.
Entertainment for the evening was Trivial Pursuit. Akilah, Becky and I played until like one in the morning or something like that. Sean and Sandra stayed up and kind of listened to us as we played. Oh, who are they? Well, they’re the married PCV couple working in Edea (somewhere in the section of Cameroon that’s hot and humid). They’d come in shortly after we’d eaten dinner.
The two of them had just come in to town after finishing a three day trek up Mt. Cameroon; one of the highest mountains in the world. They looked so tired. Bad part was that all of the beds were gone, so they had to opt for placing a mattress on the floor of the library here at the house.
There’s an interesting mix of PCVs here. Where else would you be able to find so many people, with such a diverse background, and have them in one area working for one cause? You have to admire someone who’s willing to take two years of his or her life and travel who knows where on this earth and help someone else. Not that I’m knocking anyone that doesn’t (because of course I didn’t), but consider the following.
You’re life is on hold for two years. You may or may not know the native language of the land you go to. You find out where you’re going maybe three to six months in advance, and therefore don’t have a lot of time to find out about the culture – not if you want to have time to close out your personal business in the states. When you arrive at the designated departure site, you finally meet those who will be sharing this experience with you.
Next, you’re shuttled around the world to your destination. You know no one, there’s no chaperone (of any sorts), and you are instantly thrown into the culture of a foreign land. There’s not anything a guidebook or movie is gonna do to prepare you for that. So you’re here in this foreign land, going through months of culture shock. You’re talking about folks who don’t practice the same habits you do – hygiene or otherwise; so you’re freaking out.
Another person I know recently took off for a PC post in Madagascar. I hope all is well with her; it will definitely be an adjustment period.
Where was I? Oh, not only do you have a few months to learn the language, if you don’t already know it, but you also have to learn the customs and adjust to not having the luxuries of life you’ve been used to in the states. I’ve only gone through a week and a half or so, and I’m already in shock. Kind of like, “what in the world is going on?”
After a while you kind of get tired of everyone staring at you as if you’re a total stranger. I mean, even those days in Limbé were nerve wrecking, although restful, if you consider there were quite a few times the children referred to me as “white man.” Have you seen my photo? Of course I know it means foreigner, but come on now do I really look like a white man? And you can’t get mad at them, they’re so sincere and innocent about it, they don’t know any better. But imagine being an African-American woman given that title.
How does one adjust to such a lifestyle. I know some will say faith, and a plethora of other affirmations, but speaking realistically, as a person going through a crash course of adjustment, it’s not the same when you live it. Most of all it’s definitely not the same if you’ve got two years of it as opposed to six weeks. These folks better be compensated very well in their lifetime.