This week was one hell of a week…I took 20 hours of extra French one on one tutoring, (plus the daily 8-4pm school schedule), gave a presentation on Thursday about the conclusion of our company assignment, (in French), took my language requirement test Saturday after completing the tutoring hours, and to top it off my host family moved houses in Bafia during the week. I was making myself so stressed about meeting my language level on Saturday I wasn’t sleeping; yet I was miserably tired.  I finally got some rest Friday night before the test with some help from one of my language trainers, Cedric. He forced me to go running with him Friday morning and do some serious stretching afterwards when he saw how drained I was and pretty much unable to speak/practice any more French Thursday afternoon.  The language trainers here, all Cameroonian nationals, are incredibly helpful and the biggest asset to the Peace Corps training process.

It is my last Sunday that I will be spending in Bafia and it is really hitting home now that I will be leaving my family in a few days. I will truly miss them.  This morning, I chatted with my sister and often sat in silence enjoying each other’s presence as I washed my clothes by hand for the last time in Bafia as she cooked breakfast over the fire. I cannot begin to describe how much help, care, and love they have shown me to help transition me from living in America to living in Cameroon.

Thinking back on the first night I spent here with my family it is priceless to think about how utterly scared out of my mind and stressed I was to be getting dropped off at a random African family’s house in the heart of Cameroon. The only thing I said to them that night in French was that I do not understand French. Even that I botched pretty bad I’m sure as they all had a good laugh when I attempted to say it. I quickly resorted to grabbing any pictures from home to try to keep the awkward silence at bay. The pictures lasted for maybe half an hour, next a surfing magazine was on the table, half an hour of flipping through that…and I’m spent. They knew how stressful it was for me as I am the fifth volunteer to stay in their house, so they were nice enough to leave me be in my room unpacking my bags with Francis helping and just getting comfortable with the silence. Looking back at that night I can honestly say nothing can be as uncomfortable as those moments and I always have that to fall back on as a baseline, it can only go up from there. That’s what I came here for, to get uncomfortable, it is the only way to grow. Now I sit, chat, joke, and really feel at home when I’m with my family.  The new house has one less bedroom so I even share a bed with Francis, the true African way. Normally they have three to a bed easily with maybe Vladimir thrown in between as he hops around beds as to whom he wants to sleep with for the night.

This was absolutely the best way to smoothly transition into such a wildly different culture. I could not have asked for a better training period and a better host family to help facilitate it. I have been gone for 11 weeks and it is the most amount of time I have spent in a foreign place. It is really awe striking to realize how much of the culture you do not pick up and realize from even spending three weeks in a foreign place when you are spending the time with only other people from your same background and staying in hotels or houses together. You truly have to dive into the culture and live it, or so many things will pass you by, unnoticed.  There are so many little things I could go on and on about that my family corrected me on, or laughed at me until I asked what the hell they were laughing about to fix the faux pas. A simple thing like when you are eating a staple meal of the country and which side dish or complement is to be eaten with which main dish, or which is to be eaten first. I would never have picked up on something like this if I was staying in a hotel and eating out at restaurants with others like me. I would still be going around the country looking like a fool to all the locals. It may seem like a small deal in our eyes but it is huge to them and they DO notice. I would sit at the table for nights in a row with my sisters giggling at me as I ate my food until my brother Francis would finally tell me what I was doing wrong. You have to live with the people and live like them to catch the small nuances and to truly integrate as best as possible.  I will have a different perspective and a different eye for what to look at and what to look for from now on when I travel to a foreign place.