Today Francis sat with me as I watched the movie “Bridesmaids” on my computer.  I say it in that context because I am not quite sure if he was actually watching it with me or just laughing at parts when I was laughing. His English is not that good and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t following what the crazy white girls were talking about. I really enjoy spending time with him, I learn the most from him as he learns from me. There is no sense of privacy in Cameroonian culture; it is weird to be in your room by yourself because they are so big on community, so at any moment I expect Francis or Vladimir to barge in. At least Francis knocks, occasionally. We listen to music together a lot and help each other with our language. It is hilarious to hear him say “laundry.” He really drags out the laaauuuuuundry part of it in a country-sounding manner. I crack up every time and now he says it on purpose to make me laugh.

He showed me how to wash my clothes by hand for the first time on Sunday.  We first got on the moto and went to the local corner store, (a 3x3ft. tin roof shack), that sells cell phone credit, bread, candy, detergent (what we were in search of), and minor necessities. We came back and set up the two wash buckets, one soapy bucket and one rinse bucket.  The whole family and extended family was out on the porch to watch whitey wash his clothes by hand for the first time. I am still not quite sure who actually is blood related in this house. It doesn’t matter who stops by, they are getting fed and have a place to sleep if they need. Papa Felippe saw how dirty my jeans were and said we would need a brush to get the red clay stains out. Back on the moto we go.

The first two places didn’t have any brushes left, but we ran into one of Francis’ friends, Dani, who I see about three times a day walking around town. He rather usually sees me first and I hear a, “JJEAAAAAACCCOOOOOOOOOO” off in the distance somewhere and spin around until I see Dani throwing up a peace sign. I like to call him the pimp of the town, always dressed in some bright awesome get up, hissing, hollering and smooching at every girl that passes. Today he was dressed in a brown suede sport coat, designer jeans, flips flops, and a flower printed bright red baseball cap.

Francis asked him if he knew where we could get a brush. Dani laughs and tells him to scoot back on the moto, throws his leg over, Francis switches to the back and so me sandwiched between Dani and Francis on a 150cc moto go roaring off in search of a brush. Francis yelling from the back, “EASY DANI! EASY DANI!” Francis drives really slow and cautious sometimes grinding through the gears while Dani flies through the gears and works the clutch seamlessly screaming up hills and leaning through roundabouts like he doesn’t have an extra two people on the back of the bike. We head straight for the super marche which is closed even though its Sunday and Centre Ville is bustling with people and street vendors. Dani reroutes and zigs zags the moto across traffic and cuts down an alley way crowded with street vendors, with maybe a foot to spare on either side, all while smooching and hollering at every fine girl he sees. We finally come to a little stand that Dani stops at and tells me to go inside. They will have a brush, he reassures me. Sure enough 300 CFA later ($0.70) and I’m back on the moto. Francis slides on behind me and Dani whips the moto around on a dime in an area less than the size of an American parking space, never putting his foot down for balance and not ever wobbling a bit. All while dodging foot deep potholes that litter the clay street. We head back home but not before Dani hollers at twenty or so more women and yells at every moto taxi we pass on the road as we roar by them laughing the whole way and slapping my leg in content. We drop Dani off at the stand where we got the detergent because he had a flip-flop blow out and there’s a local man crouched on the ground with 50+ random shoes and sandles to be fixed in front of him. 

An hour and 300 CFA later we make it back home and can start my laundry.  The actual task of doing the laundry was rather enjoyable with Francis by my side doing half of it while jamming to some Bob Marley. One thing I have noticed in my travels is that no matter where I go, everyone knows Bob Marley. I’m finishing this entry by kerosene lantern, which I find quite enjoyable. The power has been out for a day and a half due to the severe downpour that just so happened to start as soon as I had my clean clothes situated just right on the broken down car in the front yard and clothes line. Oh well, this is Africa…

Cameroonians sense of time is almost non-existent and I am envious of this culture difference in some ways. Our culture just doesn’t allow for us to be in such a slow pace. One of our directors explained it like this; a Cameroonian’s mindset is that they always have time for everything; there is always plenty of time. Francis clarified this for me one day when I asked him what he was going to do tomorrow. He replied, “Ahhh nuting really, I sleep, I play futbol, I go back to sleep, I have nuting but time, time is on my side.” I was cracking up as he told me this because we just had the diversity class in training that day where our director told us about their attitudes toward time. He is Cameroonian himself and it was interesting to hear his perception of us. He exclaimed, “Where are you all rushing too all the time? You are always in a hurry.”  It is something that I have started to pay attention to because I noticed when I walk along the cornfield trails or roads I am always catching up with people and passing them. As I come up behind them I feel I may make them uncomfortable by coming up so fast on them, so now I keep telling myself to slowwwwwwww down, time is on my side.

The down side of this perception of time is that it isn’t very cohesive in an American business sense. If you are told to be somewhere at seven in America, you are there at seven or you could lose the account, get fired from your job, or at best to be reprimanded with out termination. We have been assigned to a local company here in Bafia, which we will work with while here in training over the next few months. This has been one of the more stressful situations I have been thrown into thus far. I’ve been assigned to a local hotel, Rim Touristique, who I am supposed to meet with once a week, observe, and give recommendations on business improvements. I am supposed to do this when I can barely communicate in French and the people at the hotel know zero English. The first time I met with the owner it was one of the most painful situations I have ever dealt with on my own.  A lot of awkward silence, me scrambling through my French dictionary and French notes I jotted down before the meeting, stumbling through a mixture of French, English, and Spanish, just trying to get anything to come out in a way that he understands. It was absolutely brutal, but one thing I got out of it was that he did want another meeting, so I took that as the one positive accomplishment, and that it in no way shape or form could it go any worse than it did that day. I was to meet him on Saturday at 1:00 pm, but ahhhh its Cameroon time, so of course he didn’t show up until 2:00 pm. After an hour of waiting for him, then I got to sweat through more awkward silence and him mumbling under his breath about how I don’t comprehend anything he is saying. I may not comprehend too much of his French, but I did get that part. 

Round three was today for meeting with him and I accomplished nothing the first two times except for learning to deal with awkward silence. While at school I sweated the approaching meeting but tried to prepare some questions I wanted to ask about his business and got one of the language trainers to help translate them into French for me. What a relief today, I finally bridged the gap with him, joked around a bit and came up with the idea of creating a brochure for the hotel. He showed me all the amenities of the hotel and what important things he wanted included in the brochure, while not forgetting to remind me every few minutes that this needed to be in French when I gave it to him. I kept replying, “Yes Mr. Rim it will be in French by the time it gets back to you.” I chalked the day up for a win in my column because we actually had some two-way communication in French and it ended with him offering me a beer after I was done taking the tour and scribbling notes down.  Anything I couldn’t understand I got him to write in my notepad and I’ll get assistance on translating later. I am looking forward to creating the brochure for him and I am not hesitant in having my weekly Tuesday meeting any more. We have been told it is going to be hard to gain the trust of the locals and this definitely proved to be true, but once it turned around in my favor it was certainly gratifying.

Sit back, slow down, and roll with the punches.  A win is a win.

I am always open to trying new foods and from what I’ve heard from current volunteers there is a quite a lot of exotic foods to be had here in Cameroon, everything from porcupine, (not like the American type, they don’t have quills and is a delicacy here and usually served for guests), rat, dog, cat, monkey (bush meat), and many others. Today I had Antelope, which was incredible. My piece was covered in a layer of fat, not sure which part it was but it was quite tasty including the fat layer. It had been stewed in a spicy red sauce and was incredibly tender, served over a bed of rice with fried plantains. Another part of the Cameroon culture I have to get used to is that if you ask someone to go to lunch you are obligated to pay. I went home to drop my computer off after school and Francis was coming out the door, asked where I was going, and I nonchalantly told him I was going to meet up with some of my Peace Corps buddies to get some food and he was welcome to come along. Francis told us he would take us to a really good restaurant that was near by. We went off the beaten path down a little dirt road, came to a house and he yelled some French for a while until a lady came to the front door, greeted us with a smile and welcomed us inside. She told us the menu, which was either chicken or antelope, I of course ordered the antelope, and she said it would be a few minutes. I think she was making everything from scratch because we were the only ones in the place and I think the only customers of the day.  After 45 minutes or so she came with the platters of food and we all devoured our dishes, but not until I finished did it cross my mind that I would probably have to pay for Francis and started to get worried about not having enough money due to the exclusivity of the place. There were no checks, she just told us each the price and to my surprise and joy, the antelope was 1,000 CFA = $2.00 and the chicken was $1,500 = 3.00.  Together my bill with Francis was $5.00 and I had one of the greatest meals I have had yet in Cameroon. One thing our trainers have said is that we definitely won’t go hungry while we are in Cameroon, and so far I can attest to that.

OK, so it has been a few days since my last post and I have a lot to say, I'll try not to jump around too much. We have been very busy moving from Yaounde to Bafia, where we will be for the next three months in training, with our new host family. All I knew before pulling up to the training house in Bafia was that my host family name is Alemi. As soon as I got off the bus I locked eyes with a large lady that had an amazing smile, I knew instantly that she was going to be my new mother, Mama Susanne. We got off the bus, they called our name out and the host family name, they came out from the crowd, we hugged/kissed and were off to our new homes.  It has been really surreal in that we really hadn't been in Africa yet, since we spend so much time with all the other trainees at the hotel and had little contact with the locals until now. All of the sudden we were given away to these new families and wouldn't see each other until the next day. A really big awakening thrown into this new environment where there are so many barriers, (obviously the language being huge), but it is the best way to do it.

 I have three sisters, two around 14-16, one named Elise, not sure about the other, (she doesn't speak to me much). The older sister is Nedash, 25 years old, she speaks decent English, we play cards and she helps me with French as I help her with English. She goes to University in Yaounde for French and Banking, and works at a local bank here in Bafia. I have two brothers, one who is 3, Vladimir, who won't leave my side, just keeps screaming French to me and I have no clue what he is saying. We played futbol on the porch all night, (me avoiding the awkward silence inside the house due to the language barrier). The other brother is 24, Francis, who is very glad to have someone close to his age and we hang out a lot. He was admiring my stick of deodorant and smelling it while I unpacked, I threw him an extra and it almost brought tears to his eyes he was so happy and gracious. It is incredible what little things do here, it is just too expensive for them to have the basic necessities we go along with every day not even taking a second glance at. He grabbed my Eng/French dictionary and looked up the word "gentil" in French which means nice in English. He goes, "Jacob you are so very gentil." He took his rasta colored bracelet off his wrist and put it around mine. I still haven't met my host father, he has been out at their old village. One thing people warned me about was get used to the slow time of Africa, and I have seen it to be very true. Anytime I ask Francis when something is going to happen..."Francis when are we going to wash clothes?" Tomorrow, he says. Francis when are we going to go get new well water from the forage? Tomorrow. Francis when is your father coming home? Tomorrow. Everything will happen tomorrow it seems.

The first night of laying down in bed under my mosquito net and Francis telling me to shut my windows at night I knew that I had to shave my head immediately. It is stifling hot in my bedroom. I told Francis I wanted to get my haircut when I woke up the next morning and he said ok I will take you TOMORROW. Of course, that didn't happen until two days after that. After school we had a beer and he took me to a little shack, about the size of an outhouse, enough room for the barber, a chair and him to work around me. We walked through the corn field to get there, holding hands, (Cameroonian culture between men, though homosexuality will land you in jail in Cameroon, they don't have the stereotypes that we do.) We hold pinkies a lot walking to places down the street. As we made it to a little intersection of trails in the corn field I see this little shack with music blaring from it, sounding like it was straight from 93 BLX in Pensacola. Ten or so little girls playing hopscotch out front in the dirt. The inside of the shack is covered in posters of 50 cent, Ja Rule, Rihanna,  Beyonce, Eminem, Ronaldhino,  etc.. and Francis proceeded to read them all off to me telling which ones were his favorites while dancing around the barber with an inch or so to spare on either side. He loves Rihanna, Eminem, G-Unit, and Lil Wayne. I think the whole village came to see whitey get his hair cut. More and more eyes kept stacking on top of each other to get a peek inside through the windows or doorway to watch, giggle, and snicker off to go grab more people to come watch. The barber was just freestyling on my head, no guard, straight clippers and did a terrible job, with bald spots spaced sporadically through out, but oh well, what an experience. It only cost 300 CFA = about $0.60!! Services here are ridiculous cheap. I got it tidied up by a fellow trainee, Patrick, the next day after school. His name is Patrick Dennis and I have him in my Cameroon phone as P.Diddy. Francis was going through my phone and saw P.Diddy in my phone book and thought I knew the real P.Diddy. Pretty comical, I had a good laugh and told him I would introduce him to P.Diddy, TOMORROW, of course.

2nd day in Cameroon

The second day in Cameroon was a blast. We had our language test in the morning, which was brutal to say the least with my lack of French preparation while I was trying to see all my loved ones and friends before I left. Definitely expected that one to happen, but good news is everyone says the Peace Corps language training is wonderful. After that we walked around the capital of Cameroon, Yaounde, which we will be in for five days before moving to PST (pre service training) in Bafia. Then we headed to the futbol match between Cameroon and Congo. Cameroon won by a penalty kick, it was incredible, I have never seen such a wild place before. The shots of whiskey that are sold in little plastic baggies could help! We were then honored to go see a local Cameroonian dance which was performed by the CED's (community economic development) wife and backing band. When she was done she invited all of the trainees on stage to dance with her and get down, it was great. We sat down and she invited the rest of the crowd on stage, and who else to be there but part of the Congo futbol team that had just lost the match earlier. (guess they were drinking the loss off). Back to the hotel for a round of beers and shots for Joey's birthday, a fellow trainee turning 24 at midnight.

HITTING THE HAY, HARD!

So I have made it to Brussels, Belgium. Sitting in the airport, anxiously waiting for what is around the corner in Africa. Should get in to the capitol, Yaounde, tonight around 6pm and we left JFK at 6pm yesterday. Little out of sorts, but everything is going smooth so far. Had to purchase the wifi here at 6 euros for 30 minutes, spent half my time already trying to navigate out of the Dutch Google by randomly guessing words and ended up changing it to Jamaica Google, for some reason USA or English wasn't available. Off to grab a delightful Belgium beer before we have to board in a few minutes. Bon Voyage!