You're in the jungle, baby!

Le jus de poisson. Literally, the juice of fish. Here's the deal. I learned just over a week ago that my new home for the next two years will be Ngalane, in the southern region of Cameroon. I will live just outside of Ebolowa (google map it!), the regional capital, and just where the road turns into two dirt roads. I will be 1 of 2 agroforesty volunteers in the South, and there will only be 5 of us posted there for the entire region; 2 health, 1 education. We received news of our posts on Thursday of last week, just before Halloween. I almost cried as the South was completely NOT what I expected. However, upon the realization that there are actually natural forests left in the South and that I will have more freedom/independence with my projects/life, I got excited. We all had a 2 day conference in Bangante, my training city, where we met our counterpart and talked about stuff and things. But the good stuff starts here... We left Bangante for a week long visit of our soon-to-be sites on Sunday. After a 3.5 hr trip from the West, a region saturated with agriculture and PC volunteers, we arrived in Yaounde. It took another 30 minutes of travel in Yaounde to reach the most awful place on earth, Mvon, where I take buses to Ebolowa (not related to the Ebola virus). Mvon, the bus station south of Yaounde, is horrible because it is where people do awful things to other people and NO ONE DOES ANYTHING. Barely having survived a few fights I almost started in Mvon, I took a 2-2.5 hr bus ride to Ebolowa, deep into Cameroon's southern rainforest, where I watched the regular western agricultural plots turn into forestry trucks carrying massive logs. This is the real forest where slash and burn agriculture prevails because it can (ie. there is space!). So it is really beautiful out here. And there's lots of interesting social issues, like sorcery, and people working individually (which is contrary to most of Cameroon which tends towards group projects). During my site visit, me and Andrea, my nearest Agro volunteer, saw some African Grays (cool!) while walking down the road that leads from her future post to Gabon. Also, my neighbor has a monkey in a cage. So, stuff is interesting and I'm sure I'll have more good stuff to share really soon. But the real story is on transport from my post to her post. Mvangan, Andrea's post, is just over 100 km east of my post. The roads are not good, and even worse when wet. Unfortunately, the two of us and the volunteer, Sarah, who she'll be replacing, chose to go after a freak late-wet season hail (I KNOW, cause it's hot in the South!) storm. We were going to TPO, her neighbor, TPO meaning Terrible Pouvoir de l'Ouest. So, thinking we were going to have a schwank deal, we loaded our bags, and waited. When it came time to sit in the taxi, it turned out we were going to pack just like every other taxi to Mvangan: double decker. This means 4 up front, 8 in the back. Yikes. Fortunately whities get the front, and the worst seat turns out to be "petite chauffer"-for women with little fannies who literally share the seat with the driver, manual transmission and all. We were not doing so bad until the car broke down less than an hour later. We waited for a while, and as it started to get dark we jumped into the back (ie., the very back/trunk) of another station wagon heading our way. We made 18 people in this car! There were the 3 of us, plus a momma and her 3 year old in the very back. But at least I didn't have to double decker it in the actual seats. This is also the time that the frozen fish, shipped from China and/or Morocco, strapped snug on the top of the car in transport from the big city of Ebolowa to the en bruce city- without electricity/running water- started to melt on top of me. My neck craned to one side or the other because apparently I'm just a little too tall to sit back there comfortably, praying that my bag would actually make it to Mvangan in 1 piece, I needed everything I had to not cry. The worst part was that the mayor of Mvangan was on his way down the same road and, seeing his PC volunteer and 2 other PCVs smuchsed in the trunk, tried all he could to flag down our car. But our driver, thinking we would not pay him for the ride, ignored our cries to stop, and even refused to let us out to stretch. So a potentially 2 hr ride, after fixing a flat, turned into a 5 hr grueling journey. Our bags arrived with TPO 2 days later, untouched. A minor victory. We spent several days in Mvangan, enjoying the (generally, except for cold beer) lack of electricity, the quiet nights, the small town feel where even the local deaf man proposes marriage through the help of a man who speaks villagoise francaise, and etc. It was wonderful and relaxing and I convinced myself that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to visit my friend here at post, until I took the ride back to my city. Thinking that it could only get better than the ride into town, I quickly realized that the driver, who shoved my bag into the trunk carelessly, accepted us to drive into town, only to stop 2 miles into the ride from Mvangan to "fix" a flat with a bike tire pump. This happened a few times throughout the trip, along with a snack break, and a break to break up a fight because of "double decker" conflict. The ride home was not in a station wagon, but in a regular car. I counted 12 inside the car, plus a baby, and 4 on top of the car. I think I will bike there from here on out and at least get some enjoyment out of it. Moral of the story is 100 or so km does not equal 1 or 2 hours of journey, but 5 to 12 hours, jus de poisson smells like urine, it's better to ride where you wont be on someone's lap or someone wont be on yours, always look for a trusty car/driver but expect it wont be, GO WITH THE FLOW-you'll get there, hopefully in one piece and hopefully with your stuff. And laugh. Because it's better than crying when your left butt check is numb and you have been sitting on it for 2 hours on end. PS. I have a new address: Lauren Redmore B.P. 477 Ebolowa, Cameroon

This bleach tastes like water! And other musings from just 1.5 weeks

Ok, so it is times like these that I really miss the beanery where I can sit, drink good coffee, and type on my own comfy computer. But cybercafes, as dirty and slow as they are, are not the worst in the world. I've been in Bangante for just about a week and a half. If there are some things I can say about the Peace Corps, it's that they actually really take good care of us now that we've begun. I've gotten some pretty good stipends so far, and they generally did a good job with the whole host family situation. So, my family: Mama, the grandmother to my siblings, owns a bar that is right in the middle of this compound near our house, but directly across from "la chefferie." Being the chief of the village. I can't say he runs this place, but he certainly has a large family with many wives, one of whom I have already managed to insult. I also have a little brother, a little sister, and 3 older brothers. Everyone is great, especially the little ones.

But boiling water to drink really makes me feel like I am asking too much. So I've resigned to just filtering and then bleaching. There is nothing like finding out the bad proportion of bleach to water but still knowing that it won't even really make me sick. So I've started emergen-C ing my water to make it more palatable. Although I'm not even sure that it really makes a difference, as I'm fairly certain I eat off of wet plates/snort water up my nose during bucket baths/and etc.

The issue of cleanliness is interesting. While many Cameroonians bathe multiple times a day, it isn't as common to find people washing their hands before eating. I am dirty according to Cameroonian standards, but I can't bring myself to augment my dry skin. Also, I got my hair did already. I now have a hairstyle that I liken to something out of Rugrats. But it'll be nice to not have visibly dirty hair, though I'm certain my family will notice. Another interesting thing is that we are in guava season!!! They are so good, and the best part is that Cameroonians LOVE green, unripe mangoes. This means that I only have to fight with the goats to eat the sweet, yellow ones.

Also, we were issued motobike helmets. Hoorah. This means I can ride a mototaxi if I need to. Only the day after we got our helmets, I realized, upon seeing a goat charging down the road after being scared shitless by a dog run into a mototaxi, that it is probably best if I stay off of those things for as long as I can. Besides, I'm really in no hurry as all I have to do is make it to class before 7:30 and be home generally around dark, I can take my time. Class is mind-numbingly long and if anyone thinks I want to go home to hang out in another french-only zone, you are seriously mistaken. I'd rather be drinking beer and eating popcorn/playing football.

Going out to Cameroon.

I think I'm going to change the lyrics to Josh Ritter's song "California" to make them appropriate to my new song "Cameroon." It doesn't have as many syllables, but I think it can work. Here goes it:

Goin' out to Cameroon
Gonna let the water warm my clothes
I’m alone but I’m not lonely
gonna trade the weather for the Western African coast
no don’t cry
I’ll be back and I’ll
bring the sun to shine
in your eyes
on your shoulders
Yaounde will be my new capital
Douala is a long drag for the lonely hearts
down along the east or west rainforests
runs a river of ancient history and beauty
don’t say
the trip’s been done
a hundred thousand times
cause this one
is mine
so I will work at what work finds me (agroforestry)
and I will take what comfort I can get
I’ll be back when I’m good and ready
Cameroon doesn’t seem to think I’m ready yet
no don’t cry
I’ll be back and I’ll
bring the sun to shine
in your eyes
on your shoulders

Okay, so it's not exactly poetry, but I think it will do for now. Maybe I'll be able to reinvent this song more creatively once I've had some long, lonely nights in my hut in a village somewhere in Cameroon.

I've had many goodbyes this past week. After a long weekend of prolonging my goodbyes, I had a dinner at Squirrels (aka my favorite establishment ever) with friends and got to say goodbye once more. I'm not so good at them, and I almost lost it several times. When I was saying goodbye to Chris, my housemate, I totally lost it. And then I lost it maybe 5 more times after that. And now that I am finally in Philly, awaiting my pre-departure staging, I am going to lose it several more times since I get to see my mom, my aunt, and my grandma this morning and then 3 close friends later tonight. It is so strange how moving usually isn't this big of a deal. I've gone several years without seeing some friends, but it feels harder because now I can't see them for several years. I'm not really sure why it feels like a bigger deal now. Maybe it's because I know I'm going to change. It's inevitable. When I think about how changed I was from my other major international travel (India, Kenya), I realize it's inevitable that my life will be different when I return to the states. Oregon is my heart; it's centering, it's majestic and wonderous and human (and to the other East coasters cosidering moving out there, I was told to tell you it's a terrible, awful place). But Oregon will be there when I get back. This trip has been a long time in the making and I know it's something I must do for myself. I just hope I don't get too weird or feel too out of sorts when I do return.

So that's my justification for leaving Oregon right now. That and there's no jobs for me. And I need more experience to better understand how my degree fits into the world. Anyway, I'm in Philly right now in a hotel waiting for my family to visit before we start the pre-departure staging (aka paperwork fillout time). I'm pretty sure I overpacked, as I can hardly lift my duffel bag. May need to reconsider what I'm bringing so I can send some stuff back with Mom before they leave. At least I decided to leave my laptop with her, as I strained my neck walking around Corvallis with it the other day.

And for those of you who were concerned about my swollen lymph nodes in my neck (sickness?)- they seem to be better today. It may have been stress-related or hay fever from the valley. But it appears as if I have poison oak on my legs. Ah, good times.

Next blog will be in Cameroon!!!

Pre-departure life in Corvallisl

So, here I am. Sitting, once again, at a fancy, overpriced coffee shop where if I don't know my fellow interwebers personally, at least I know their face. Corvallis, oh Corvallis. People keep asking how I'm feeling. Am I excited? Yes. But I am also every other emotion. The literal, physical being of emotion. I never know when my need to cry will hit me. This is why I've been avoiding drinking more than one or two beers at a time (beer tears are genetic, you know). Sometimes it hits when I'm sitting at home, alone, trying to deal with the fact that I am voluntarily leaving the first place that I've felt more than nostalgic love for. I can't believe I'm leaving Corvallis. (!#@%&$$#&^%$^@!!!!) It is such a wonderful life here. Granted, sometimes I get so sick of seeing the same faces on the same 40 streets over and over again. But, this is home, and home has lots of good, fancy, overpriced coffee.

I've lately been going on long runs at night. I like to leave my house right at dusk so that I get a little bit of the waning light coming over the coast range. Whenever I head west, I get lost in a trance from the purple illumination behind Mary's Peak. I think, also, that subconsciously I recognize that my ability to a) go on long runs while remaining culturally/socially sensitive, and b) to go out (safetly) at night, will pretty much not exist once I am in Cameroon. I'm just getting my fill of warm summer nights and intentional exercise.

I am also trying to get lots of "firsts" and "lasts" in. For example, I went with Carl and his workmates to the oh-so-classy Peacock breakfast. For those of you not from Corvallis, the Peacock is a shady, dive bar where I will only go when there is karaoke and/or I've had enough to drink. And it is open at 7 am for a 2 dollar breakfast. I found out that I actually love this breakfast and I wish I had gone before. Also, I rode the bus for my very first time with Brianna. I ride my bike everywhere, so I had it with me when we took the bus. I got to hook it up on the front rack and pull the stop chord when it was my stop. The bus took longer than if I had ridden my bike, but it was my first/last. Most of my first/last list consists of eating food. Because I love food.

Aside from my (exhausting) mental prep work (which mostly consists of me sitting in the living room with the dogs, alone, listening to NPR until I've heard Terri Gross's interview with Jean Simmons at least twice in one day), I'm doing some actual prep work. This consists of a little bit of everything. Selling two out of three of my most valuable possessions (subaru, canoe) and figuring out what to do with my third (my bat-mitzvah bike). I'm also trying to accept the fact that I'm going to have to store more stuff at my mom's house. This is, in all other accounts, the very wrong direction I should be moving my stuff, especially since my goal is to be entirely out of her house by the time I'm 30. So, to try to deal with this, I'm attempting to minimize my "stuff." This mostly consists of me bringing stuff to the Goodwill and throwing stuff (old cards/letters) away. I just need to remind myself of the Buddha's teachings on earthly possessions, and I'm a-ok. Thank goodness for being comfortably middle class. I also like to set aside a few things each day that I can absolutely not forget. After an hour or two of these prep exercises, I like to try to remember all of the items that might come in handy. However, these things usually pop into my head when I'm on the toilet, or riding my bike, or on a run, so my fleeting thoughts keep my purchases down.

I am getting so close that I am also not able to sleep very well. I have not-too-far removed memories of pre-defense sleepless nights. I guess the two day staging in Philly will sort of be like my defense. Can I get my act in order in time? Gosh, I hope so! In between enjoying Oregon recreation, I need to remember to set aside time to get my act together! If not, Corvallis will get to have my goodbye/welcome back party all in the same week!

An invitation to serve

I have finally received my invitation to serve (which is what has motivated me to start blogging)! And surprisingly, I did some amazing detective work because I was spot-on with my guess. I will be leaving to go to Cameroon in mid-September to work on forestry/agroforestry type projects. As I've been getting closer to the date, and since I'm done with school and in a brief stage of limbo/vacation/unemployment, I've been doing a bunch of research to figure out what, generally, the Peace Corps experience will be like. Some reading materials shift my outlook towards excitement about the adventures that lay ahead, while others make me annoyed about some of the experiences that are probably in my future.

A few guesses: I'm going to have a slight advantage over other volunteers because a) I'm not fresh outta college (re: not as green), b) I've had some work experience in my field (as in generally the field of forestry in the US), c) I've been to Africa before, d) As a social scientist, I love new cultures and I love figuring out language and place and people, and e) I've done a LOT of reading on Africa, forestry, women, and etc. for my MS. I may even find that I'm slightly older than most volunteers, which will be a different experience than when working on my masters when I was the youngest person.

I've been reading through my packet of information that is supposed to be mandatory reading, but it's more like reading all of the "terms and conditions" that come with signing up for a new credit card... I'm guessing that the "dealing with culture shock" booklet will be more appropriate reading material for the bathroom than fo-scheezy reading. I guess they have to cover their bases.

So I still need to accept my invitation, but I really don't think I could have been placed in a better country. Aside from that, I will have some great connections, as my college roommate studied abroad there and my undergrad has a study abroad program there. So, I'm going to have to do a little more reading, but I'm probably going to accept the invitation.