Dazed and Confused...

Thursday, January 28: 2:00 pm

I'm in the SIT Office, using the incredibly slow Internet on my tiny computer! In the last few days, I've had a few more adventures, some more terrifying than others. The big event yesterday was the "drop-off" - essentially a scavenger hunt around Yaounde. We were put in pairs and dropped off in a random location in the (surprisingly large) city. My partner, Ben, and I were lucky to be dropped off in the Centre Ville (downtown) area, a suffocatingly busy but exciting place full of shouting vendors and honking cars. We walked around the area, attempting to achieve various tasks like finding the French cultural center, three banks, and a textile store. Our next task was to head to the University of Yaounde, which we realized was not in easy walking distance. Hence, our first cab ride! We had been instructed to tell the driver where we wanted to go and agree upon a price of 200 francs CFA (the exchange rate is about 440 to a dollar). If 6 cabs passed us by, refusing the 200 francs, then we should up the price to 250, and so on. This task was easier said than done. On a busy street full of cabs and shouting people, we competed for a spot just to flag a taxi down. Eventually, we found a cab that agreed to take us there for 300 francs each. Ben and I hopped in the back and we soon picked up a third passenger who sat in the front. The cab driver continued to pull over for people hailing taxis every few blocks, and eventually let two women in - I was a little confused about how the women would fit. One woman squeezed in the back with us, which was a hot and sweaty experience to be sure, but nothing compared to the woman in the front seat, who sat down on the lap of the man (whom she did not know). After the woman got out, a schoolgirl of about 12 or 13 got in and also sat on the man's lap. I've since learned that this is common practice, called "doubling in the front seat." In the mean time, the woman sitting next to me was singing all the words to a song on the radio.

9:15 pm

Had to interrupt that last post because we started our next session (about 20 minutes late - we learned during orientation that the Cameroonian concept of time is different than that of Americans. Apparently, it is not unusual for a friend, or even a professor, to arrive 2 hours late for a meeting. Of course, we aren't allowed to abide by this rule...). During the session, a doctor from a local hospital told us about the main health risks facing us: malaria, typhoid fever, and various infections causing severe diarrhea. For 2 hours, she discussed in great detail the mechanisms of each infection, the symptoms it causes, the exams used to detect it, and the preventative and curative treatments used. It was an enlightening if somewhat disturbing (and drawn out) lecture; we were expected to take notes, but I had forgotten my notebook. I think I'll have trouble forgetting the details regarding malaria symptoms, though...

To finish up my earlier thoughts on the “drop-off,” I'll mention one tidbit: after going to the University and taking a cab back to the Centre Ville (where apparently we had missed the textile store, a huge shop full of many different kinds of fabric; I plan to have a dress made there soon!), we tried to take another cab to the neighborhood where the SIT office (and most of our homestays) are situated, called “Bastos.” Unfortunately, we didn't know where exactly to go, so we just told the cab drivers who pulled over “Bastos.” They would invariably ask, “Where in Bastos?” and Ben and I would look at each other like lost puppies, attempting to explain that anywhere in the neighborhood would do. I tried to say “I don't know where in Bastos!” and a man in the backseat shouted, “ Tu est fou?!” (“Are you crazy?”). Ben responded, “Je ne sais pas...” (“I don't know”). Perhaps we are crazy.

Eventually, a cab driver agreed to take us to the main roundabout in Bastos for 200 francs CFA each (success!). We arrived and walked around some more, then finally hiked back up the huge mountain to the monastery. I now have two painful blisters on my heels!

Moving to the present, I have arrived at my homestay! A few hours ago, at the SIT office, all of the families arrived and we played a game: Nathalie, the homestay coordinator, called up each family and told them to find their guest among the 19 Americans seated in the room (based on the photos that we sent with our applications). Nathalie had told me earlier that she didn't think my family would recognize me, since I had long hair in the photo and a shaved head now. Fortunately, my person spotted me almost immediately (maybe it was the glasses?). Other people had more trouble, particularly the dads! It reminded me of that 30 Rock episode when Tracy Jordan says that all white people look the same to him.

During our brief reception at the SIT office with our families, I had a bit of trouble figuring out who exactly had come to get me. They seem to be brother and sister, though I can't be sure of that. We had an extended (and quite awkward) conversation where I mostly blabbered on in broken French about the US, my family, and what foods I like to eat. I had to ask my host siblings to repeat everything a few times before I understood what they were saying. It's going to take some time! I was a little disappointed to learn that there are no little kids in the house, but having siblings my age is pretty good too.

Arriving home, I met my host mother, a jovial woman who also has a shaved head. She asked, “Ca va?” (“How goes it?”) and I responded “Ca va!” (“It goes!”) She laughed and said that here, no matter how bad things are, you always respond, “Ca va!” or, more often, “Ca va aller!” (“It will go”).

My siblings gave me a tour of the house, at which time I realized that this family must be pretty wealthy. Most of the house is what I've seen in other buildings – cracked white paint on blank walls, old doors and shabby curtains – but the living room and dining room are the fanciest rooms I've seen in Cameroon. Antique European furniture sits on sparkling white tile floors, facing a small flat-screen television. (One thing about people in Yaounde: they watch TV all the time! It stayed on before, after, and during dinner.) Before dinner, one of Maman's older sons came to visit – he lives nearby and goes to what he says is “the most expensive school in all of Central Africa.” Decked out in a nice blue button-down shirt with a black tie, he's the most Western dresser I've seen so far. We talked about school and how much it costs in the US – I explained what student loans were and he said it was a good idea. We discussed what jobs I'd like to have in the future...being that I have little to no idea, I tried to think of some things I might like to do. He told me he wants to get a job where he can make a lot of money. I agreed this would be a good idea.

I also learned that Maman has traveled to many places, including France, Spain, and the US. She thinks Spain is most similar to Yaounde. Also, one of her sons went to Boston University (I told them that my brother went there too!).

After a short (Western-style) shower, I helped prepare dinner by peeling a pot of boiled sweet potatoes. Maman didn't eat with us (I think she said because she does not eat a lot?), so it was just my two siblings and me. They both tried to convince me to eat the fish, but I stuck with the “sauce” - sauteed vegetables drenched in peanut (called “groundnuts” here) oil. I ate more than enough to fill me up.

My host sister, Adda, was feeling sick, so she went to bed and my brother (Simon) and I did the dishes. After a moment, he left and I was doing the dishes alone. Obviously I know how to do dishes, but I was still nervous that I would do something wrong. Fortunately, I've gotten used to acting like a complete idiot and asking basic questions, like what the dishwashing method is; my family, who hosted an SIT student last semester, seems to understand this completely – they assume that I'm a dumb American who can't do anything for herself (which is mostly true). Slowly but surely, I'm learning!

Now I'm in my room, sitting next to my fancy mosquito tent (set up awkwardly on top of my bed). A few minutes ago I went outside because I felt bad reading in my room, not interacting with the family...but no one seemed to be around. I'm not sure if they went out or are just in their rooms. I suppose I'll just get ready for bed, since I need to wake up at 6 am tomorrow. After a long day, I could use some sleep.

Friday, January 29: 11:40 am

I'm back in the SIT office. We just had a session about sexual harassment (it's not a big deal here...I should expect men to shout at me, attempt to touch me, and call me every day if I give them my number). Also, we learned that non-traditional sexual orientation is totally unacceptable (and illegal) here. I'm about to eat lunch, so I'll sign off for now!