Catherine in Cameroon

Home Again

2010-06-02T10:22:00.000-07:00

I'm safe and sound, back in Milwaukee WI.

Apologies for leaving everyone hanging after my last post. After I got sick, I decided to cut the trip a little short and returned to America at the tail end of April. A travel "hiccup" involving the Icelandic Volcano left me stranded in Douala for a week, but of course, the Sisters of St. Francis kept me clean and well-fed. Upon my return, I headed straight to the doctor, who told me I'm going to be just fine. After a month, I feel healthy and energetic again.

I'm so thankful to everyone in Cameroon who welcomed me and made sure my trip was as positive as possible. Sr. Theodosia will be here in July, so the adventures will begin again soon!

New Man's Tax

2010-04-09T10:01:00.000-07:00

So I didn't go to Kumbo. From what I hear, I really missed out, too. Jujus from Kumbo palace were out in full force, terrorizing the population and performing their traditional dance. Food and festivities were plenty. But really, I wouldn't have enjoyed the Cultural Week Celebration anyways. Why?

BECAUSE I HAVE TYPHOID.

I knew before I came to Cameroon that I would face many challenges and possibly illness, but nothing can really prepare you for having a serious illness in a third world country. Fortunately for me and unfortunately for them, Typhoid is a very common illness in Cameroon and doctors generally know how to recognize and treat it. Most people have had it at least once in their life, and so in order to experience every facet of life here in Cameroon, I needed to pay "new man tax" and fall sick, too. I also want to note that I could not have been more careful: before I came, I took the oral Typhoid vaccine. I drink bottled water, I only eat fruits with a thick peel, and I wash everything carefully in bottled water. I'm careful to the point where I get made fun of for being too careful. So basically, as with STI's, abstinence is the only 100% way to prevent Typhoid. And I'm not going to abstain from food. I love food.

Saturday night we had Easter Vigil at the mission, from 9 p.m. to 1 a.m. Apart from being in the church for four hours, I was being tortured by serious muscle and joint aches. When mass was over I popped some ibuprofen and went straight to bed, but I struggled to fall asleep. I had a very strange feeling and was still in pain. Sunday morning I woke up feeling fine. Then, during church, the aches came back and I began feeling week. I told Sr. Theodosia immediately after mass that I was feeling weak and I needed to rest for some time before we got in the car. She told me I could rest in the car or when we got to Ndop, where we'd have lunch, and I practically screamed that I needed to get into bed NOW. The way I felt, I knew that there would be little rest and lots of pain for me as we traveled on Cameroon's "dancing roads", i.e. uneven dirt tracks full of massive potholes, rocks, and other various barriers to smooth rides. So I went to bed, hoping I'd wake up rested and ready.

I never really woke up. At two p.m., worried about me and impatient we hadn't started our long journey, Sr. Theodosia woke me up. I wasn't having it. I felt very hot- the fever was setting in. She sent the driver to fetch a nurse, who dropped his Easter Sunday celebrations to come up to school and check me out. I had a high fever and my throat was even more sore than when I had strep. He told me I had malaria and needed to be on an I.V. So I packed up and moved to the convent next to the Mambu hospital. I'd like to interject a special "Thank you Jesus" here for not having to stay at the hospital, which is a loud, dirty, bad place to be a white lady and have to recover from bacterial infection. Anyways, the nurse drew blood, hooked me up to the I.V., and the drugs began to flow. I saw the doctor (there are two doctors working in the hospital, but one was sick himself), who suspected right away that I didn't just have malaria. He put me on antibiotics for Typhoid, too, but didn't really tell me lest I freak out, rip the I.V. out of my arm, and run to Douala airport.

The lab results came in Monday morning after a fitful night at the convent, where Sr. Theodosia slept next to me on a cot, checking my "drip" every few hours and making sure I was as comfortable as possible. For the next few days, I received injections of powerful antibiotics and began to recover under the Sisters' care. It's safe to say I've never been so sick in my life. I was released Wednesday and now I'm taking gigantic horse pills of Ciprofloxacin, some pain reliever/fever reducers, and something called "Nuravit" which is a vitamin syrup with some weird drug that makes me nice and sleepy. Although the ordeal was pretty traumatizing, I received the Cadilac of Cameroonian medical care. Also, basically everyone I know in Cameroon came to visit me and brought me fruits and stories. I feel very loved here. For now, I've been discharged and I'm recovering nicely at school, eating lots of fruit and sleeping most of the day, slowly regaining strength.

I'm pretty bummed that I've had/will have to waste a ton of time getting better; I only have 6 more weeks in Cameroon. For two of my classes, exams begin the first week of May, and so I pretty much have three weeks to spit out whatever knowledge I can before the end of the term. On the other hand, I want the Typhoid to leave my body FOREVER, so you can count on me taking it very easy.

Differences

2010-03-31T07:31:00.001-07:00

A brief description of some cultural differences I've noticed:

Bathing: Cameroonians use buckets and splash themselves with water rather than standing under the shower. Only after they have soaped up do they stand under running water; then only until the suds are gone. Also, many bathe in the morning and in the evening (2x a day), but many more don't bathe at all most days.

Toilets: Most Cameroonians don't use water toilets (since they can't afford plumbing). Almost anywhere outside of a building is an acceptable place to urinate; exceptional places have a plaque stating "Please don't urinate here" or something to that effect. Even at school, students often prefer to use pit toilets than the nice porcelain in the ultra-modern dormitory complex. Also, often Cameroonians don't use toilet seats or toilet paper. Rather, they squat and drip dry. And hardly anyone washes their hands. Awesome.

Medicine: Under duress, Cameroonians often prefer to use traditional medicine and soothsayers rather than trust medical doctors. HIV/AIDS patients may refuse to go to the hospital and instead hire traditional medicine people to plant different mystical herbs around their house and perform rituals. Cardiac patients travel long distances packed 8 people in a car on bad roads to visit a soothsayer's office so he or she can pray to the gods for health. Even when hospitalized, a patient's family will sneak a traditional medicine man in to work his magic. If the patient recovers, everyone will generally attribute it to traditional medicine rather than M.D.'s. Not to say that traditional medicine always has it wrong; many herbal medications used have the same active ingredients as manufactured drugs, especially those for malaria. However, nonexistent dosing can lead to deadly overdose or worthless under-dose.

Hospitality: Cameroonians are amazing hosts. First of all, there is absolutely no need for an invitation in order to visit someone in their home. If you show up, everyone drops whatever they're doing to welcome you. You are immediately fed and drinks are presented. Neighbors will stop in and greet you, and gifts may even be involved. Similarly, if someone pays you a visit, you must show them such hospitality and make sure they enjoy their stay. To accept food offered is an honor; sometimes refusing offered food can be an insult, if not done tactfully. Because of this spirit of hospitality, it is impossible to feel unwelcome in Cameroon.

Religion: There's no such thing as a Cameroonian "agnostic" or "atheist". Most Cameroonians are Christian or Muslim, and the predominant Christian denominations are Baptist, Presbyterian, and Catholic. The first missionaries arrived in Cameroon in the middle of the 19th century, so Christianity is fairly new to the area. These people take their Christianity seriously. Many people go to mass every day, and no one skips prayer before mealtime or bed. Cameroonians who aren't Christian or Muslim, and even many that are, practice traditional religion. Their gods and ancestors live in rivers, special plants, stones, animals, almost anything you find in nature. They believe in many supernatural powers, and traditional medicine and religion are often intertwined.

Just a few topics to give you an idea of the culture shock I experience!

photos

2010-03-31T05:05:00.000-07:00

if you please, there are many more photos up on my picassa site:
http://picasaweb.google.com/106754477391544221556/Africa1

Other than that, things are still calm in Cameroon. The cat is terrifying all of the mice, so that problem is solved. My health is fine. The students are studying hard for their exams coming May 31st. I went to church for four hours yesterday... just typical stuff.

Easter Sunday Sr. Theodosia and I will travel to Kumbo. They are having their cultural week, and in addition to being chased by Juju (masked dancers who apparently transform into non-human spirits and scare the crap out of everybody), I'll be eating some new dishes, watching some concerts, and enjoying traditional dress. Someone is going to make me an outfit out of the "wrapper" fabric that has been specially produced for the week: it will be some traditional design with the fon's photo on top! I'll try and snap some nice pics for you.

Love,
Catherine

Weird Weather

2010-03-25T04:26:00.000-07:00

This year has been exceptional weather-wise in Northwest Province. First of all, rain started falling at the end of February, a full three weeks before dry season should end. Then, at the typical beginning of rainy season, we went back to dry. It's been more than a week and no rain; people are starting to worry about their crops, and I'm just sick of the dust.

Additionally, for the last week, a strange haze has settled over the area. I haven't seen the sky for 6 days. Tiny white dust is covering everything inside and out- and we're all breathing it in and feeling the affects. I have a nasty post-nasal drip and I tire easily. Many people are experiencing malaria flare-ups and cough and cold. Apparently, this weird white haze is unprecedented; my hypothesis is that it is from the desert but some are saying pollution is the cause. Anyways, the government doesn't seem to be doing much by the way of testing the stuff and letting us know what to do to protect our health. Doctors are telling us to wear masks and rub Vaseline on our nostrils. Naturally, masks aren't available. Another win for preventative care in Cameroon!

the hospital

2010-03-24T05:13:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: I'm fine. Please don't worry about me (too much).

Sr. Theodosia had been on retreat since Tuesday, and the school definitely missed her. The students enjoy having her around- she's their mother when they are here. The staff's spirits are lower. Things become disorganized and since our authority is away, they have to handle all issues alone. And, of course, I missed her too. The void we felt here is great, but in the same breath, I'm glad she gets to spend some time away from school, where she works from 5 am to 11 pm every single day.

The day she left, I noticed a rash appearing on my trunk. Since the cat just arrived, I was immediately worried it was fleas, but didn't see any crawling around anywhere. In the next two days, the rash spread to my back and my hips and legs, and Sr. Martina, the bursar, the school nurse, and I decided we should seek treatment at the hospital.

Sr. Martina has mixed feelings about the doctors at the Mambu-Bafut health center, so she decided it would be better for me to go to the hospital in Ntassen, Bamenda. One of my colleagues, also a nun, accompanied me, and Colins, the school driver, drove us comfortably. After a 45 minute car ride, we arrived at St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Hospital. There weren't many patients around, thankfully, so we didn't have to wait long. A man seated at a small table took my name, blood pressure, weight, and pulse. Then I waited in line on a bench with the other patients consulting in order to meet with the doctor. Every 15 minutes, the door to his office would open, a patient would exit, and the next person on the bench would hurry in. An hour into this, I got to see my doctor, whose name is 5 foreign words and too many syllables long to remember. He was very thorough- asked me about my family health history, examined the rash, and asked me many pointed questions to narrow down the problem. Then he sent me to the lab with a sheet which would tell the tech what tests to do. I literally went into the lab, where I had a blood draw next to the centrifuge and microscope. The tech did not wear gloves, but thankfully he used a little alcohol to clean my arm and a clean needle. Then I took a urine test in an old, used cardboard-based cup. I peed in an empty hospital room toilet, and there was no tp, no soap, and no water. In a hospital room. Thank God I'm not actually sick.

Anyways, results came back, and there was no infection found that could cause this rash. However, I did test positive for malaria. I've been taking it easy since I found out the news but my health is fine and my only symptom thus far is exhaustion, which I've pretty much been battling since I got here. I was prescribed some allergy medications to help the "reaction" and bought them at a pharmacy in town, with the assistance of my doctor, who hitched a ride with us when we left. About a week later, Sr. Theodosia is back and the rash is slowly healing- but not quickly enough for me to sleep comfortably. And the diagnosis is definitely not satisfactory to me- what the hell is this thing? Ahh Africa. Thanks for the rash! Thanks for the malaria! Thanks for all the attention to personal hygiene.....oh wait.

Love,
Catherine

p.s. the hand-washing thing is pretty disgusting. very, very, VERY FEW people wash their hands after the toilet or before meals, and most people don't even have sinks anywhere near their kitchen or toilet. And it's customary to greet everybody by shaking their hands. I shudder. Thank god for hand sanitizer.

...dumdedumdum

2010-03-20T06:22:00.000-07:00

As I've been here for almost two months, I'm pretty used to the place. In fact, I debated whether or not to even write here today, because I really don't have much to tell you. Classes are done for the term (instead of two semesters, there are three terms here in Cameroon- the first one starts in September and ends before Christmas, second begins after New Years and ends before Easter, and the third begins in April and ends at the end of May or beginning of June) and most students are done with their exams- a few of the classes who have to take national standardized exams are writing their "mock", which is a gigantic practice test for the real ones which will come this June. On Tuesday, the students not in examination classes will leave for holidays until April 12th, and those writing mock will stay in school and have holiday classes, with only a short 3-day break in two weeks. I'm still busy lending a hand here and there where needed, which prevents any boredom that may come from not teaching. Yesterday was the feast of St. Joseph and so there was a small party at school- the students did lots of hip-hop dances, we heard some speeches, and then the teachers all went drinking :). After Easter, Sr. Theodosia and I plan on going to Yaounde for a couple of days to see what the capital of Cameroon is like, and I'm looking forward to that. And sadly, Anna and Maud, my dutch friends, are leaving on March 29th. I'll miss having them around. Otherwise, things are "normal" and going well. Family and friends, I miss you a ton and I love you very much, and I'll see you before we know it!

Love,
Catherine

just call me Jim Davis...

2010-03-14T08:37:00.000-07:00

I haven't been sleeping well. Every night at around 1 a.m., I am rattled awaked by the same noise. When it first began happening, about two weeks ago, I was shocked. Later, as the lack of sleep began to wear down my sanity, I grew annoyed, and then hostile. Luckily, the students are taking exams this week and I haven't had to teach any classes, so they haven't felt my exhausted wrath.

What could the problem be? What is making these awful noises? Why, only the most disgusting animal known to man. My bedroom has been infested by mice, commonly known in Cameroon as "rats".

They emerge in the middle of the night to chew the closet doors, the legs of my desk, and the bedposts. As soon as I turn the light on or bang my hand against the headboard, they scatter into the walls and up to the ceiling. As for the ceiling, well, there must be an entire colony living up there. Even in the middle of the day, it can sound like a herd of elephants are stampeding through the attic. As soon as Sr. Theodosia and I noticed the problem, she jumped into action. There are no mouse traps in Cameroon. At the market, you can buy "Rat Poison" and "Rat Gum". I've tried both and both suck. Even after all of the poison has been eaten, I wake up to 3 mice scampering around. As for the gum, the rats must understand the trap, as they never go for the food in the middle and I have yet to wake up to a rat stuck to the sticky cardboard.

On Thursday, the problem got so bad that in the middle of the night, I got up and switched bedrooms. I've been exiled from my room ever since, sleeping in the spare storage room, but SLEEPING, thank God. Every morning, I come back to my room to get dressed and ready and find mouse feces everywhere, including my BATH TOWEL. Friday, as I walked to Fr. Renalto's house to help him with his computer, I noticed a cat and some kittens in his neighbor's yard. I have been begging Sr. to get a cat since the whole fiasco began, but we have had trouble locating any. I memorized their exact location and soldiered on.

Today, on the way home from church, I pointed out the house to Sr. Theodosia. She got exited and pulled me over to meet the "Mami" who owned the cats. $2 later, we walked away with Garfield, my new orange striped kitten. I don't even like cats, and I think he/she has fleas, but now that Garfield is hiding in my closet, I feel like I can return to my normal bed and maybe even wake up rested tomorrow. For now, the little thing is freakin' TERRIFIED and meowing quite loudly, curled up in one of my bras. But meowing is way better than the sound of rats gnawing away at furniture.

To see Garfield, visit my pictures:
http://picasaweb.google.com/106754477391544221556/Africa1

She/He is actually really cute.

Frida

2010-03-11T07:20:00.000-08:00

Profile: Frida

Frida is an aspiring store's accountant in my Lower 6th Commercial Class. Things did not begin well for us. She skipped our first class. The second class, she came 45 minutes late. When I asked her where she was, she replied "surfing the net". She casually brushed off my admonishment. When the homework started coming in, though, I was surprised. Frida is turning out to be one of my brightest students; though you wouldn't know from how much time she spends with her head down on her desk.

As is the case with every other student you've met, Frida's home life is not easy. Her mother had 3 children out of wedlock, Frida being the youngest. Frida's mother died some years ago, and she has no idea who or where her father is. She lives with her Uncle when not at school, and their relationship is rocky. She has a low self-image and dreads holidays, where she must go back to her "family". However, she is an intelligent high-school student and if she can keep her studies up for the next 2 years, I see her excelling at the university level.

Frida and I are slowly smoothing out the bumps and I predict that by the end of my time here, we will have a strong relationship and she may begin to open up to me about the difficult problems she faces. Nevertheless, I am impressed with her perseverance and natural intelligence, and I hope for the best for her- if she falls, she doesn't have anyone to catch her.

Women's Day... AY

2010-03-09T04:30:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, March 8th, was International Women's Day. While not generally celebrated in the United States outside of university women's studies departments and all-girls high schools, in Africa the holiday is big and growing. After all, here women still have a long way to go to gain equal rights and escape oppression. In Cameroon, the markets begin to fill with the official Cameroonian Women's Day fabric in January. Most women buy 3 or more meters and begin to work on custom outfits, so that come March 8th, they will be looking good.

Most women skip work on Women's Day, and employers must grant them that choice. Unfortunately for the economy, this means that nothing really gets done. Cameroonian women are the foundation, walls, and roof of society, and when they have a day off to play, the whole place shuts down. Hardly any female teachers showed up for school yesterday; even the men struggled to get the girls to pay attention and it basically turned into a free day. All the female teachers and even some of the male ones met up last night at a local pub for drinks, food, and dancing. I certainly enjoyed partying with my coworkers; they claim I am a good dancer, unlike "most of the whites"!

Carine, one of the teachers, made me my "Women's Day Uniform" out of the official fabric. When Sr. Theodosia took me to Bamenda to witness the festivities, I fit right in among the thousands of women wearing the same pattern, although each women wore it in a different style. Some wore short skirts and a blouse, some long dresses, some short, some wore shorts and a shirt, some big flowy "cabas" and others form-fitting "mermaid" style skirts. Commercial Avenue, the biggest, busiest street in town, was shut down and people lined the streets. A grandstand was set up and the governor and the Women's Day coordinator gave speeches. Then hundreds of women's groups marched past, carrying a sign identifying themselves and wearing perfectly matching outfits in all the colors of the rainbow. The parade lasted for hours, but the whole time my eyes were hungrily feasting on the variety of dresses before them. The pride of each group was infectious, and everywhere a woman went, men (and women) shouted, "Happy Women's Day!". After the marching, everyone went out to eat and drink, and the whole city celebrated their women.

I got to party with Geraldine Ade's family in the afternoon. Geraldine graduated from St. Joseph's and is now going to Alverno College in Milwaukee. It was a great pleasure meeting her aunts, not to mention drinking and eating with them. We had roasted chicken coated in hot pepper, served out of a big pot. Each eater takes a small plastic baggie and wears it on their hand like a glove to protect the skin from the mess. We sat around on benches in the inside of Geraldine's Aunt and Uncle's store, using empty crates as tables, feasting and visiting until we could eat and drink no more.

As previously mentioned, Women's Day 2010 ended for me at the local bar, hanging out with my female colleagues. One of the male teachers fetched me in the evening from school, and I rode on the back of his motorcycle down the hill clandestinely while Sr. was inside for her evening prayers (although motorcycles are the most popular form of transportation in Cameroon, she thinks I'm going to die the second I hop on one... This fear is probably warranted, but sometimes it's good to just trust). I returned by 8 p.m. to finish cooking a special Women's Day dinner for Mary, our household helper, and the sisters who I live with. We all went to bed full and smiling.

More Photos!

2010-03-05T10:39:00.000-08:00

30 total pictures for your enjoyment. A smattering of my African experience.

http://picasaweb.google.com/106754477391544221556/Africa1?feat=directlink

School Days

2010-03-05T08:39:00.000-08:00

School in Cameroon is kind of like school in 1840's pioneer America. Electricity doesn't run during the day because, hey, we have the sun. Our classrooms are simple, concrete slab buildings, and the walls are bare and gray. Most of the students don't have a calculator, textbooks, or even more than one pen. Everything is dictation or written on a tiny, dirty chalkboard. We don't even have chalkboard erasers- instead we use blocks of foam that are normally used to stuff furniture.

How these students manage to understand the double-helix structure of DNA or chemical bonding without detailed textbooks or classroom aids is beyond me. There's no TV to watch an educational video or even one for fun. I am sitting right now in the internet lab, where 12 seriously antique computers are supposed to provide for 310 teenage girls and 35+teachers. There are no "teacher's editions". There are no workbooks. Hell, I don't even have a copy of a single textbook I'm supposed to teach out of. I have to borrow from my students to plan lessons.

However, we do have dissections here. I watched the senior biology class play with a bunch of guinea pigs before class, and when their teacher arrived, WHAM! They killed the guinea pigs with a small hammer, and for the next 3 hours performed surgical-quality dissections. No formaldehyde here!

Nevertheless, learning is serious here. School runs from 8-2:40, begins again from 4-5:30, and 7:30-10:30 is strictly study time. Most of the students try very hard. Their families struggle to send them to our school, which is growing in notoriety in this country for being a place of academic excellence. In turn, the girls feel proud, honored, and motivated to perform for their parents' sakes. $750 tuition is a fortune in this country.

While I struggle every day to adjust to the culture of Cameroon, the way things are done here, the food, and my homesickness, I will soon leave this place and be free of such "struggles". These people will soldier on, trying to live as decently as they can, working incredibly hard with no assurance that one day, it will all pay off.

The Beach

2010-03-02T07:14:00.001-08:00

This last weekend, I had a nice getaway with my Dutch friends to the beaches of Limbe, in the Southwest Province. As with every experience here in Africa, we had good times and bad times, and I learned a lot.

On Friday morning we headed out. As we don't have a vehicle, we took public transport- a bus. This bus was the size of the large van my family used to own- the one that seats 8. How many people were in it? 31. Also, it was almost falling apart. Needless to say, it was a tight squeeze and very very hot. The whole ride to Limbe was very uncomfortable for us Westerners. The Cameroonians had no trouble.

We traveled for 7 hours before arriving in Douala, where most passengers were destined. The bus driver refused to continue to Limbe, as only 5 travelers were headed there. Instead, he bought us a taxi. The taxi, too, was crowded, falling apart, and hot. Every 1/2 mile we had to let someone in or out, adjust, etc. The Africans were making fun of us for drinking bottled water and being stuck up White People in Pidgin, thinking I didn't understand, since most foreigners are struggling with English. BUT I UNDERSTAND PIDGIN. I let them continue for awhile; after I made a nice cutting remark when they were laughing about us washing our clothes and bathing in bottled water, they began to watch their tongues a little and were significantly nicer to us. It grew dark. An hour and a half passed before the driver announced "we're in Limbe!" and tried to unload us. Instead of dropping us at the depot, where our contact was waiting anxiously to pick us up, he was trying to leave us at a gas station in the center of town, where many bike taxis and taxis gathered to take people places and others gathered before spending the night on the town. He claimed not to know where the bus depot was. We tried to call Yvonne, our contact, but the network wasn't working and we couldn't get ahold of her. So we picked a hotel from the guidebook the dutch had brought along, and got back in the taxi, asking the driver to take us there. I called Sr. Theodosia, and she freaked out. She was screaming about how dangerous taxi drivers were at night, and demanded we go back to the gas station. I put her on the phone with the driver, and he returned us there. Then Sr. said her sister and brother-in-law were driving down from Buea to pick us up.

Buea is 45 minutes away. She wouldn't hear of us getting back in a cab, and claimed they were on their way and would come. In the meantime, we were being attacked by flies, flying ants, mosquitos, and men. The gas station was very busy, and everyone that came by tried to take us somewhere. Three white women standing in the middle of a gas station at night is not so common. It was seriously one of the most awful experiences of my life. I was hot, uncomfortable, and tired from the journey. I had dozens of bugs in my hair and flying around me. Everyone was staring and most were leering.

After an hour, Hilda and Killian arrived. We insisted they take us to the hotel, which was less than 5 minutes drive from the gas station. After many thanks, they dropped us off and we checked in. We ate a nice meal and went straight to bed, exhausted from the experience and happy to be somewhere relatively clean.

We woke up the next day and realized the place was really not that fabulous, although it is considered a top hotel by the Cameroonians. The beach was dirty and rocky, and our room was smelly and the dirty around the edges. The air conditioning didn't work, and it was at least 95 degrees at all times. Nevertheless, we wanted to have a nice vacation. Saturday was spend traveling around the area with Yvonne, our contact, in her boyfriend Ben's Mercedes. It was actually really nice and we got to see a traditional fishing village, the second wettest place on earth, and the lava flow from Mt. Cameroon. We went to the zoo, and then to Buea, where Hilda and Killian served us a grand African feast in their home. After visiting for a few hours, Ben took us back to Limbe. We paid him about $45 for gas for being our personal chauffeur for the whole day, which I'm sure is even way to much for Cameroon, but whatever. It was a really nice day, especially compared to the awfulness of Friday.

Sunday, Maud came down with something bad. We planned on going to the beach, but we needed to stay near the toilet for her sake. I was pretty disappointed, as the beaches of Limbe are famous for their fish and fun- the reason I came in the first place. Instead, we went to the Botanical Gardens and then just relaxed by the pool at the hotel. Then the men began to work. Again, three white women attract attention in this country. All of us had marriage proposals by the end of the afternoon. Mine came from a hotel worker, which was really bad because he knew where we were staying and throughout the rest of the vacation he came by the room 3 times. A man drove all the way from Douala in the evening to try and take Anna to a disco. At first it was funny, but it quickly became annoying. As one of the teachers, Prudentia, declared to me this morning, "Men have no shame".

Unfortunately, Monday meant we had to get back on the bus. It was almost worse than the ride down. We were cooking inside; no one would open the windows because they are used to the climate. The whole time, a man was standing next to our seats, trying to sell traditional medicines, and using the "white man women" as conversation and selling topics. As in "white man women don't like foul odors from man" and "white man women no wan sex when you have venereal disease", gesturing at us and trying to get us to interact, and then claiming his products could cure such ailments. Although many of the Africans found this entertaining, we found the attention unbearable and in no way could we escape it. By this time, both Anna and Maud were both sick with diarrhea. They were extra uncomfortable and I have no idea how they got through the 7 hours of hell.

By some act of God, we got to Bamenda without killing ourselves or others. Collins, the school driver and a friend of mine, was late picking us up so we had to sit around more. Being crabby, tired, sweaty, and dirty, stuck in a strange place, it was again not pleasant. Thankfully, after about an hour, we were in the car on the way home. The windows were wide open and the rain began to fall. When I finally arrived home, I was overjoyed. Sr. Theodosia ran to greet me with a giant smile on her face. I felt so comfortable, safe, and happy, after all that stress. I ate about 3 lbs of fried plantains and went to bed at 9 pm.

Malaicha

2010-03-02T06:14:00.000-08:00

Profile: Malaicha

Malaicha is 15 years old, in Form 5 (Sophomore). She is a new student at St. Joseph's, and right off the bat, she made herself known to me. Quickly, we grew close. Malaicha has had some problems fitting in at her new school; she admits that she's quick to judge and she that she enjoys feeling superior to other students. She is struggling to be more open and friendly with her peers.

I've found that girls at St. Joseph's with noticeable behavioral problems generally have traumatic pasts, and Malaicha is no exception. She hardly knew her late father; she knows he has children all over the country and that he never lived at home. Her mother has 5 children of her own, and to earn a living, she owns a restaurant and a liquor store. When Malaicha is on holiday, she has to help out at these two businesses. The whole family begins cooking at 3 a.m., and after a busy day of work, they return home at 11 p.m. Malaicha's mother is also very ill. She has diabetes and a heart condition that land her in the hospital frequently. Naturally, Malaicha is constantly worried about her mother's health. All of this stress wears heavily on Malaicha's heart. Her appetite is often suppressed. She has shared her suicidal tendencies with myself and Sr. Theodosia.

At age 13, a vulnerable Malaicha was introduced to cultism. In Cameroon, there are many cults which prey on disadvantaged teenagers by promising them success, intelligence, beauty, wealth, social riches- basically anything they want to hear. Children who get involved in cults then become disturbed by the rituals and beliefs of the organization. They believe in out of body experiences and are in a constant state of fear. Some claim to eat flesh and drink blood, have orgies, and to steal others' talents through chants and spells. The brainwashing can also make it difficult for these children to release these unfounded beliefs. Malaicha has expressed her disturbed mental condition to me; additionally, she shares her beliefs with other students, terrifying them. When other students tell their parents about Malaicha, the parents are also afraid, as cultism is commonly practiced and believed. Thus, parents express their dissatisfaction with the school for allowing these "bad" kids to mingle with their "good" ones.

Despite the way the world is working against her, Malaicha continues to study hard, socialize with many of the other girls, and share her humorous side with myself. In the beginning of June, she will write her ordinary level G.C.E. examination to pass into High School; there is no doubt in my mind that she has the intelligence and drive to pass. Hopefully, her troubles won't get in the way.

Wild Weekend

2010-02-23T13:39:00.000-08:00

The electricity has been on and off, mostly off, for the past 6 days. Also, the rainy season has arrived, about one month early! Every afternoon, it storms, and I love it. NO MORE DUST coating every nook and cranny of my body and my life. People are informing me that this rain will not last, but I hope it does. Anyways, I had a very busy weekend and had to spend most of today in bed to recover! Let me tell you about it.

On Friday, Sr. Theodosia took me to the palace. It was the Queen Mother's death celebration. She died in 2003 and the Fon was finally ready to celebrate. The outfits were fabulous. Most were dressed in traditional garb; others wore custom outfits made of fabric especially manufactured for the day. This fabric had Bafut-area designs with the Queen Mother's picture and "RULED: 1968-2003" written underneath. One of the teachers, Caroline, is a princess, so she showed us around. Before the ecumenical service began, we walked around the palace. One of the queens (there are dozens) invited me into her home, and gave me my first Achoo to eat! It was very special for me.

Afterward, Sr. and I went to Bamenda to buy some things in the market. I got to visit a Cameroonian supermarket and found some Diet Coke and Snickers bars. I bought Sr. Theodosia her first Snickers, and she quite enjoyed it.

Saturday I went with the teachers for a social to Santa, a subdivision like Bafut, on the other side of Bamenda. The teachers from Santa Memorial Secondary School met us at the entrance to Lake Awing, a crater lake in the woods. It was cool and beautiful in the mountains, and everyone was very excited to see the lake. Apparently, the locals fear the lake, and once every few months they feed it- i.e. throw cooked cows, fish, goats, vegetable dishes into the lake. I've already heard stories of people drowning- Sister says the lake will take you. I respect this but I've also come to understand that Cameroonians are not strong swimmers either.

I got to party and play with the teachers for the rest of the day. It was a good way to get to know them better. Plus, I had to sit on top of some of them in the bus on the way to Santa, so we got physically close as well.

We got back at about 10:00 p.m. Saturday, and by 11:00 I was asleep. The next morning, I had to get up at 5 to 6- Father Renalto, the parish priest from Brazil, was taking me to some OutStations- Catholic churches scattered throughout the bush. For 2 hours we drove on "roads" to get to the villages. Mostly, they were dirt and rock pathways, impossible to pass by anything but the gigantic 4wd truck we were riding in. For some time, we were driving on a cow path. Anyways, I got to see some very rural parts of this country where I doubt many Americans have traveled before me. The people were quite excited to have visitors, which I can understand. I'm sure they are hardly able to leave their village; no one else has access to cars like Fr. Renalto's! There is no electricity, no water. The children walk for two hours to school. Fr. Renalto is leading the campaign to build a primary school in one of the stations, Ajeep, and I had the opportunity to see how it's done here. The foundation is dug out of the hillside, and besides it lay some mud bricks, drying in the sun. The entire community is building the school together, since contractors don't usually make it out that way. Anyways, we had some more wonderful Achoo and when I got back, I was quite tired.

My dutch friend, Anna, has malaria, which is worrying me. This week, we sent 9 students to the hospital with malaria symptoms. The change of season, from dry to wet, has been hitting our bodies hard.But at least the power is back, and water will fill the pipes soon!

Pictures

2010-02-23T12:48:00.000-08:00

All I was able to load for now:

http://picasaweb.google.com/106754477391544221556/Africa1

eating fufu with Mary and Sr. Irmgard, me looking good, Coach Levi and the soccer team, fufu and njammanjamma, nursery school at youth day

Profile: Mirabelle

2010-02-23T12:43:00.001-08:00

I am going to try and periodically introduce you to some of the students at St. Joseph's Comprehensive High School, Mambu Bafut. It is a great pleasure and an eye opening experience getting to know them.

Mirabelle is 17 years old, and has lived a very hard life. Her father is gone, and she and her 4 siblings were raised by her mother, who is mentally deranged. Mirabelle says her mother's mental illness makes it difficult for them to be close and for her family to function; they are hardly ever together. Additionally, they are extremely poor. For her, school is a sanctuary, a place where she can forget about her family problems. She is in the Lower Sixth Form (junior), and the Industrial Class (she studies Food and Nutrition).

Mirabelle finds studying difficult. She often feels she must try harder than other girls to understand the same information. Nevertheless, she is not discouraged. I always see her either smiling or crouched over her books, and when we chat, she emphasizes her desire to continue schooling as long as it remains feasible. Her dream is to become a dietician, but first she must pass the end of term examinations this year, and then go through one more year of school followed by another difficult exam period. After that, she needs to negotiate a place for herself in the workforce of this impoverished country. All of this should be quite daunting for a teenager who literally describes herself as "disturbed". However, with a big, beautiful grin, Mirabelle asserts that she will work, work, work until she achieves her goals.

What I Injest

2010-02-23T12:40:00.000-08:00

Fufu corn and Njammanjamma: Corn flour dough balls and huckleberry leaves cooked in palm oil. Break off some of the fufu with your right hand, dip it in the huckleberry, and enjoy. Sometimes smells weirdly skunky. Staple food- this week I've eaten it 4 times and its only Thursday.

Bread: Yellow, kinda like wonder-bread except sweeter. Usually toasted for breakfast.

Palm Wine: African Moonshine. Fermented juice coming from some part of the palm tree. Looks like soapy water and tastes like sour coconut milk. Varying alcoholic content, depending on where you get it.

Fish: Whole fish chopped into sections. Eaten with bones-you just spit them out. Fried in palm oil.

Groundnuts: aka Peanuts. Shelled but remain "in the skins"

Chicken: Whole chickens slaughtered in our kitchen by nuns. Raised literally outside of my window. Often fried in palm oil.

Tomato Sauce: Made with palm oil, tomatoes, curry, onions, bouillon, salt. Poured over anything and everything.

Cliff Bars: Brought from America. Eaten in the morning so I don't pass out at church.

Sweet Potatoes or Irish Potatoes: peeled, boiled, and then fried in palm oil or served with some sort of stew on top.

Rice: Not fried in palm oil! Usually includes carrots and green beans.

Carrots, Onions, Green Beans, Cabbage, Tomatoes: Staple vegetables often incorporated into a lunch dish

Achoo and Yellow Soup: Pounded Cocoyams and banana with peppers and spices. Consistency of mashed potatoes. Served to you wrapped in banana leaf. Then you take your hands and "bowl"; i.e. spread it around and make a hole in the middle. Then pour "yellow soup" into your bowl. It's yellow and I have no idea what is in it, other than fish. Then use index finger to scoop up achoo dipped in yellow soup. This dish makes me think of sneezing and the film "Robin Hood, Men in Tights".

Beans: Red, white, black. Soaked, boiled, and cooked with bouillon, onions, and chicken scraps

Fish Pies: Sardines or leftover fish, fried with cabbage and carrots, then sealed in a pastry. Fried in palm oil.

Pineapple, Banana, Oranges, Papaya, Avocado: fresh, peeled, generally delicious

Plantains: Either straight up fried in palm oil, or first dipped in batter and then fried in.....palm oil.

As you can see, I'm not really loosing any weight in Africa. Mom and Dad, please get a YMCA membership for when I come back.

TRADITION! TRADITION!..... TRADITION!

2010-02-16T05:24:00.000-08:00

There's no better way to celebrate Valentine's Day in Africa than to go to a traditional wedding. Let me attempt to explain to you what I witnessed on Sunday, although I'm sure that this is something you just have to see:

Irene was pretty much raised by the St. Francis Sisters here in Bafut after being orphaned early in life. She is finishing school nearby. Her fiance, Eric, is a nurse just finishing his clinicals at Mayo in Minnesota in the Neuroscience Clinic. Eric wants to lock Irene down; and anyone can easily see why- she is smart and beautiful. One might think the fact that he is in another hemisphere a barrier to their wedding happening now, but in Africa, you don't actually have to be at your own wedding. What's more important is that your family, your fiance's family, and everyone who has had any part in raising you at all is present. And that things are done according to tradition.

Eric's family arrived from Kumbo, a village about 100 km away, Saturday afternoon. The negotiations began shortly thereafter. Sister was away burying the Archbishop, so we didn't make any of Saturday's festivities, and I can't tell you what went on. However, I did arrive shortly after 11 a.m. Sunday at a traditional house on the other side of Bafut. Almost as soon as I got out of the car, Sister Judy ran up and spirited me away. She informed me that even though things were scheduled to start at 10 a.m., no one was anywhere near ready and that we were going to take a little side trip. Judy and I drove 20 k.m. through the bush to Bambui, where some of her patients from SAJOCAH, the handicap center, work a farm. The farm is on the land of the Dominican Monastery, and it was really beautiful. Although I didn't get to meet "Judy's boys", I did have a nice time enjoying the peaceful atmosphere and seeing more of the country on the ride. I met a Domincan Sister named CATHERINE, and she was overjoyed to meet me. Everyone here is too friendly!

At about 12:30 p.m. we got back to the house, and things were supposed to be getting started. We gathered inside the dirt-brick house: only important family members of Irene, a few sisters, and I had a seat. Along one wall was a bench for Eric's family. Since Eric is suffering in the snow with you people, his brother represented him in the negotiations. Eric's family lined up and entered the house, took their seats, and then.... nothing. We kinda just sat there for 20 minutes, staring at each other, sweating, breathing. After awhile, two or three more people trickled in and we were finally able to start. After a Christian prayer that the talks go smoothly, things got pretty secular.

Eric's family had to present specific gifts in order for the wedding to be official. Something like 60 Liters of Palm Wine (African moonshine), 60 Liters of Palm Oil, hens, beer, soda, and who knows what else. First a bunch of crap was bought in for the men of Irene's family. It took about an hour. Then another bunch was brought in for the women, which also took a long time. Thankfully, since one of the gifts was beer, we all began the celebration and I was able to stay sane in the heat. Sitting squished together on a wooden bench against a dirt wall is not easy! Yet, I was really honored to be a part of the tradition.

Since they aren't just going to give Irene away for practically nothing, her aunts rejected the chickens, claiming they were too small. Then negotiations had to begin again, and about an hour and a half later, things were settled. Then Eric's family had to pay Irene's closest male relative a "bride price", which is a couple hundred thousand franks, which is a couple hundred dollars. Then we got to eat!

We made our way across the street to a hall where a dj was set up. The women brought in tons of food, including a bunch of the pig that I saw them sawing open earlier in the day. Everything tasted different than anything I'd had before, but it was good! About an hour and a half later, it was time for the final stage.

We all treked back to the house and assumed our positions. It was time to present Irene. A woman guided another woman with a veil covering her face in. Eric's father had to inspect the bride. Then he removed the veil. Alas, it was a trick bride! The family brought in a different woman. Everyone laughed and fake Irene was guided out. This was repeated with some other girl, but then finally Irene turned out to be under there on the third try. She was in traditional garb, and she had to sit in the middle of the house. Her relatives rubbed her in palm oil and different people blessed her. Apparently she's going to have twins AND triplets in the future! After the rubbing, everyone began to yip and celebrate. Then it was time for Eric's family to take their bride away.

Even that wasn't smooth! When we all reached the road, Irene's family claimed the embankment was too steep for her to walk down. They demanded that Eric's family carry her! Some strong young man stepped up to the plate, grabbed Irene, and carried her running to the car! They quickly shut the door. Finally, she was theirs. Everyone danced in the road, singing, laughing, and rejoicing. The wedding is complete, and Eric and Irene are now officially married.

The couple will have a Catholic ceremony this summer, when Eric returns to Cameroon. Let's all congratulate them and wish them best of luck with all those multiples Irene will have to give birth to!

Catherine

All the Single Ladies

2010-02-09T08:55:00.000-08:00

The girls and I are getting very comfortable with each other; I think our week in the dark brought us together. They are extremely interested in American culture and I'm happy to indulge them. The most popular topics are boys and music.

Since Valentine's day is coming up, everyone wants to know about my dating history, what dating is like in America, how we celebrate the holiday, and of course, whether or not I have a fiance. 22 year old girls often have families here, with a husband and not one, but SEVERAL children to worry about. When I tell people that my oldest brother is 28 and unmarried, they try to hide their shock. Today, a teacher asked me if the reason he isn't married is because he wants to be a priest. Jesse, I'm glad you've delayed jumping into family life to pursue your Ph.D. and if you don't find the right woman soon, I know some really nice priests here who can guide you in your journey with Jesus.

In Cameroon, it's not easy to be a teenage girl. Not only are you barely taken seriously by adults, but parents, teachers, and society in general like to keep a tight grip on your innocence and virginity. The girls tell me that even at 18 or 19, they often have to sneak away to go on a date. when I talked to Sr. Theodosia about this, she told me that parents are very protective of their daughters and often feel they cannot trust them. Even at school, they stay in all weekend studying, are barely ever able to go out to town or the village, and if they stray, they face strict discipline. With teen pregnancy and HIV/AIDS ravaging the country, one can hardly blame their parents and those responsible for them for worrying. Of course, I feel like I couldn't have survived such a strict upbringing, but different cultures, different styles. Thanks Mom and Dad, for trusting me too much and letting me enjoy myself during my teenage years.

I really like talking about music with the girls. I tell them proudly about my love for Beyonce, proclaiming that this "Independent Woman" is someone they can all look up too. The girls also share my love for Rhianna, Shakira, and R Kelly, so we sometimes sing pop songs together. I've also heard a lot of love from the Michael Jackson camp. Kelly (16) told me today how she and her mother held each other and cried when they heard he died. Other celebrities the girls enjoy discussing include the Kardashians, Chris Brown and the controversy surrounding him, and of course, Miley Cyrus. Additionally, one of the puppies the school is raising to be a guard dog is named Jay Z. I thouroughly enjoy hanging out with Jay-Z and his sister Bluebell; they keep me from missing my pups at home.

Hope you are all digging yourselves out of your respective snowstorms and making it wherever you need to go. Although the weather is warm here, it's the peak of the dry season and I'm generally covered in dust. This climate can be almost as oppressive as Wisconsin, but in quite different ways.

Love and peace,

Catherine

LIGHTS!

2010-02-09T08:09:00.000-08:00

THE POWER IS BACK.

The Dark Continent

2010-02-07T09:42:00.000-08:00

When I say Dark, I mean we have no lights. No Power. For six days now it's been totally dark. At night, we've been using solar lanterns to cook and for the students, to study. At first it was fun but now things are miserable. I can't teach my night classes. The water pump doesn't work without electricity so the girls trek down the hill for a mile to the stream, then up the hill a mile with a bucket on their heads. We have some special water reserve so I've been able to avoid that issue for the time being. Right now I'm working off the generator. I'm sure it will turn off any second so I'll keep this one short.

I love you and I hope you're all safe and warm with the lights on and the water running whenever you need it.

Old Time Religion

2010-01-31T23:54:00.000-08:00

1/31

I'd like to take this opportunity to inform my readers in the Western world who are not yet aware that polygamy is still common and accepted practice in Cameroon. It's kinda like living in rural Utah, only I've never been to rural Utah and have no idea what it's really like there besides what I saw on Dateline when they broke up the families on that creepy ranch. One of my nuns, Sr. Martina, brought me up to speed a couple days ago during a conversation about our families.

I started out by telling her about my family: my brothers and sisters, what they do, how there are five of us, etc. She told me that five kids is a tiny family in Cameroon, so I endeavored to ask her how big her family was. Martina has 7 brothers and sisters from her mother, but over 40 siblings and half-siblings. Martina's father has 5 wives. All living in the same compound. A compound is a group of homes of relatives. It's like if all of Grandma Orella's descendants lived together on a couple of acres. Most everyone lives at their families compound, and together the entire family raises the children. Anyways, apparently in Cameroon you can be very Catholic and very polygamous. Martina also told me that many men here have wives in different towns all over the region, and most of the time they don't know about each other. Theodosia added that by her own estimation, maybe 20% of the Cameroonian men find it possible to remain faithful to their first wife. Most cheat, and many marry again, but hardly anybody divorces.

A student later confirmed this notion of different wives in different towns. She has 5 siblings and over 15 half-siblings; her dad has 3 wives. I think that when I grow up, I'll keep a husband in Milwaukee, one in Madison, a couple in Chicago, and maybe one in Eagle River (it would be nice to have someone to go to when I need a vacation). I probably won't tell them about each other, as people in the Midwest generally don't like to share their spouses.

This week marks the first full week of classes. I've met nearly all of my students and I am excited to now get to know them. Profiles in Cameroonian womanhood to come.

Love you all, and please stay warm and safe.

Catherine

firsts

2010-01-30T11:00:00.001-08:00

First classes, first papayas, first meetings, and first puke. The past two days have been chock full of firsts. On Tuesday, I had the opportunity to shadow the head of the Maths department as he made his rounds. Like Lindsay Lohan's Caty Herron says in the critically acclaimed Mean Girls, "Math is the same in every country". Which makes my job pretty easy, whereas an English teacher from America would probably be packing for home about now. It is really difficult for the Cameroonians and I to understand each other, and it's almost like we're speaking two different languages. The sisters and I are getting used to each other, but with the students and the teachers, most conversation is still a struggle.

In order to ease the difficulty with communication during class, I've brought along playing cards. For about 15 minutes, I've let each class play cards, and I've learned a few games and taught them some too. Cards are also a perfect teaching tool for probability. My primary job here is to teach statistics to the students who are on the business track, and so I've got a lot of probability to teach. It's fun though, I swear! Today I taught a few 5th years how to play black jack. I'm going to bring them to Vegas next year to help in my card counting enterprise.

According to Sr. Theodosia, my Cameroonian Mama and roommate, I've been going to fast and I need to give my body more time to adjust. I am not interested in sitting around all day, so yesterday I was pretty active. Ingmar, another rommie, and I went on a long walk through the village yesterday. It was hot and dusty but I really enjoyed getting away from the school and getting a bit of exercise. Afterwards, I was tired but comfortable, and I was confident that I was adjusting extremely well.

Today was another story. I woke up fine, but started feeling sick in the middle of breakfast. Then up it came. Apparently I've not yet adjusted, and I am begining to feel impatient. I don't like to do things gradually, and I'd rather just jump into this experience. Fortunately, my housemates are vigilant and make sure I don't go to hard. For example, they refuse to cook traditional foods for a few weeks so that my digestive system has time to adjust, and they make sure I get three square meals with lots of water. I'm grateful for their caring.

I wish the internet was fast enough for me to post pictures of this dust. It's the dry season, so all of the soil has loosened and whips around campus. After walking, we have to jump in the shower or we'd turn the house red. The dust gets everywhere- your hair, in your ears, between your toes- and you have to be very diligent when washing to make sure you get every nook and cranny. Sr. Theodosia helped me wash my feet the first time because I didn't know how hard one has to scrub to get the dirt out. She seems to really enjoy babying me, and I love having a Mama around.

I am missing everyone in America but I'm having a really wonderful time getting to know people here. I am settling in well, and pretty soon it will feel like home. My phone number is a 414, so if any of you see a strange number call you around 3 pm, it's probably me! Last night I left about 6 voicemails. Apparently all of you have "jobs" and "school" during the day. I'll try again another day.

I love you all so much and I hope the harsh winter is not destroying your spirits. Whenever you get too cold, just remember that it's 85 and sunny here....hahaaa

Catherine

No Overdos Fruit

2010-01-27T01:52:00.000-08:00

1/25/10

Sister Theodosia picked me up at the airport and we went to stay at the hospital convent in Duoala. My first African hospital!!! Mom and Dad, I know you're worried about the medical care here but trust me, the sisters have it under control. These women go to bed at midnight and wake up at 5. They live and breathe caring for their people. The city is so alive and I am struggling to take everything in.
After a quick stop at the bakery, we are on the road. Our driver, Collins, narrowly but artfully dodges potholes and motorbikes. For 7 hours, we travel through Cameroon. In the late morning, we stop at a pineapple plantation and the merchant cuts us fresh portions. Sr. Theodosia keeps shoving the pineapple in my face, even after I insist I've had enough. The merchant, Douglass, explains "No overdos fruit!", and although I think there IS a limit to how much pineapple I can eat, the fresh fruit is so delicious that I enjoy overindulging. We make a few more stops for food on the road, most notably for pears (avocados). The avocados here are amazing. I know a lot of you are pear fans, but trust me, you haven't had a real avocado unless you've eaten it underneath the tree it fell from in the middle of Africa. YUM at that good fat!

When we got to the school, around 3:30, the girls pour out of their dormitory. They line up to greet me. When they have arranged themselves, they begin to sing a welcome song and one little one presents a bouquet of plastic flowers. The dean, Philip, makes a welcome speech and then I'm expected to speak. SHIT! I am so overwhelmed that I hardly know what to say! I stumble over my words and let the students know how beautiful they look and how much I appreciate their greeting. I doubt they understood most of what I said, judging by their expressions. We disperse, and Sr. and I attempt to call my family with the Magic Jack. The internet connection is weak, and although I can hear them clearly, they can't hear anything I'm saying. We talked to Mama Rose on Sr.'s cell phone and she assured me she would call my family and let them know I was alive. Thank you Mary!

After a long nap, Sr. and I settled down in front of the TV in our apartment to eat dinner. Sr. didn't want to eat in the dining room because the football match is on! In Cameroon, like in pretty much every country except the USA, football takes precedent over everything. We're talking about funerals being postponed when a big match is on. And this match....was really big. Cameroon battled Egypt for a spot in the semifinals of the Africa Cup, and although we were tied 1-1 most of the game, our men got tired at Egypt scored 2 goals in five minutes in the beginning of overtime. Sr. Theodosia said a prayer for the players, who she said would be weeping for weeks. To distract ourselves from the disappointment, we visited the girls while they studied, caught up on the news from Al-Jazeera, watched a Nigerian soap opera and then, off to bed at 11:15. Tomorrow, I'll get to see how school works, and I'm nervous!

Peace,

Catherine

p.s. internet too slow for pictures, be up soon!

In Transit

2010-01-27T01:51:00.000-08:00

place: Chicago O'Hare International Terminal
time: 17:45 Central

I just said goodbye to my parents and my little sister, Clare. HI CLARE! After a quick milkshake in the airport cafeteria, I decided it was time to go through the dreaded security checkpoint, which actually was very fast and painless. So now I sit here, lonely but not alone, watching the grunts load the luggage and the "gourmet" cuisine on THE HUGEST PLANE EVER. To keep myself busy, I am updating my ipod and eating this braunschweiger sandwich I made earlier. Probably don't have braunschweiger in Cameroon!... but probably do have it in Zurich, my next stop.

UPDATE: 6:26
SwissAir just paged SPIKE JONEZ!!!

UPDATE: 7:00
On the plane. Did not see Spike Jonez on my way in. But I have an aisle seat, which totally makes up for it. The complementary magazines are all in German. Thankfully, I know German. We're off to a good start.

UPDATE: 1/24 11:28 A.M. Duoala time
place: Zurich Airport
mood: really tired
I had 3 seats to myself on that flight. Now I'm hanging out in front of the Cameroon gate... with about 30000000 American exchange students are on their way to Yaunde and are buzzing about what kind of mosquito net they bought and how much deet is in their bug spray. I should probably go make friends, but they all seem to be going to the other end of the country and are going to have a completely different experience then I am. Still, it might be nice to have some friends to stay with for SPRING BREAK '10: CAMEROON. If I sit near one, I swear I'll strike up a conversation.

UPDATE: 8:20 p.m. Duoala time

LANDED. Another empty flight where I got to sit alone and stretch out. We were late since there was some chemical in the checked baggage that was discovered as we were preparing to take off, so we had to go back and unload everything then reload it blahblahblah. Also, everyone is speaking French. I probably should have studied the language a little before leaving the USA but OH WELL.

Love,
Catherine

Read all about it!

2010-01-18T12:42:00.000-08:00

http://www.successstorymagazine.info/

Check it out! Read all about St. Joseph's, Mary Rose, and Sr. Theodosia. Lots of interesting pictures of the school and the students.

TWO WEEKS OMGZ.

2010-01-10T16:02:00.000-08:00

Just realized I have two weeks left before the trip....

AHHHHHHH! I have way too much stuff to buy with way too little money before then! Anybody know where I can get a LED Lantern on the cheap? Or a gigantic bottle of non-aerosol bug spray?

I am extremely excited to get over to Cameroon and meet everyone. Sr. Theodosia, the principle, sent me an email detailing my vocational duties- I have 7 classes, 13 total periods per week. Things are different there from secondary math here; math only twice a week, but the 16-year-olds are learning logic I didn't get to until last semester. I'm excited to see all the statistics on the course plan, as I loved studying it and I think it's some of the most useful math for almost any profession. My tutoring boss is a part-time teacher at Edgewood High School in Madison and she's hooking me up with a lot of materials I can haul out there, which will be a great help since I don't know squat about teaching yet. Thank you so much Cherie!

I will have pretty consistent internet access and also access to a phone with a 262 area code (thnx MagicJack!), the number of which I will post ASAP. So basically, I'm soliciting your emails and phone calls- I know I will love hearing from home.

Peace,

Catherine

Wrapping it Up in Madison

2009-12-21T17:00:00.001-08:00

So tomorrow I take my last final of college... Naturally I'll be pulling an all-nighter tonight. What better way to say farewell to academia than to spend another night watching the vacuum rodeo in College Library? In case you weren't aware, at about 2:30 a.m. every morning, a few custodians break out RIDING VACUUMS in a futile attempt to scrape the study sludge off Helen C. White's industrial carpet flooring.