Yesterday I kept to myself, cleaned, took water from the well, boiled some it for drinking, sorted papers and started a newsletter for WWS. But by mid-afternoon I was bored and hungry. Today, my second day in Akonolinga, was a good one. I started work at SAIMED. I read through a project proposal to organize rural women so they can take advantage of credit opportunities and then discussed it with Bienvenu. When we finished I walked into town, explored the market, bought provisions and came home to cook by latern. The electricity is out. Yes this is my new home.

The power was out again. They have a big report due to Yaounde yesterday. When the current returned, they took turns checking figures and entering numbers into excel on the only computer.
How will they send the report to Yaounde? Well since the phones aren't working he can't call to tell them it's coming by van so he has to send it with someone. Wait what phones aren't working? There is no phone in our office. All the phones in town. It's been 3 days.
There are fire flies out here in my bush but no power and no signals.

This town has a vast sky often full of slate blue gray clouds of varying heights. It's so grand that it can hold the sun's rays, the clouds and never-neverland simultaneously. I could simply fall in love with the lighting in this city. Maybe I should chalk it off to my rose color glasses.
I asked today, ça va prendre combien de temps pour être alaise ici a Akonolinga? After 2 beers I wanted to feel more at ease but I felt further from water. In fact the swampy Nyong River ran just around the bend from where I sat.

I just saw my first little baby lizard inside my house. He's welcome. The cockroach in the kitchen isn't. I'm starting to bubble over with my new colleagues, to show my personality, to tell my stories, to joke with them. They are welcoming but I know I need to remain a little restrained. There are many things I have yet to understand. I get the impression that they're waiting for my discomfort to show and can sense their anticipation and expectations. I wonder how long the process will take.

The phones and electricity are working but the water isn't running.

It's been a mixed day of itchy bug bites that now sting raw and equally little social challenges. My neighbors and co-worker thinks there's a possibility that I'll marry her brother, my landlady wanted to observe me drawing water from the well before 7am this morning and has raised the rent. I tried haggling over the price of tangerines but the price wasn't negotiable. I escaped mid-afternoon corn couscous and finally bought a squeegee mop. The boy at the corner store actually greeted me and I've figured out that it takes 4 goblets of water to flush my toilet completely.

The boys at Inter-Voyage in Akonolinga gathered around me. One young man missing half his teeth declared that he’d be my husband. Another was full of questions about my helmet.
I’m in love with you. Do you love me too?
Do you own a motorcycle?
Well love takes time. You need to get to know me.
Do you wear the helmet inside cars?
When can we get started getting to know each other?
If you have protection for your head, why don’t you also have protection for your body? Isn’t your heart also important?
When are you returning from Yaoundé?

My hand feels heavy and I wonder if I’ll be able to put my ideas into words fast enough to still make sense. I’m starting to feel as I was told I’d feel and the constant social chatter of the flow of PCVs through the case does my head in…
Andy and I walked and walked exploring Yaoundé, making connections between several places I’d been before. It was great to spend the day talking in English and philosophizing. He was shaken by an accident he witnessed yesterday and how little can be done for the wounded. Struggling to accept helplessness.

I’m back home in Akonolinga. It’s raining. I’m sweating. I wish I had a cross breeze. I have a headache, need a fan.
Andy spent the day at the train station in Yaoundé trying to get a ticket North. Saying goodbye was hard. That same old question… When will I see you again? He didn’t think Thanksgiving was an acceptable response. It’s not soon enough. Maybe he can find another excuse to come to Yaoundé or we could meet in Douala. It’ll be hard to plan without a phone.
I go into the bush tomorrow. It’s going to be muddy.

On a moto in the mud
We slipped downhill without a thud

An hour and a half en route
I arrived in Kamba kinda mute

I slowly sipped a glass of palm wine
Full of bugs, fresh from the vine

The general meeting started 3 hrs past nine
After 3 more hours we were offered chicken, rice and swine

Beer, red wine, palm wine and whiskey
The people of Kamba warmly welcomed me

Returning home we stopped at 4 bars
Michael Power comes from Mars

I came home and stumbled right to bed
I had no words in my head

The team went off into the bush and I got left behind because there was nobody available to drive me. So I walked into the CECA in town. I found the PCA, a teacher and a man named Janvier. They discussed the poor condition of the school, areas of the east, cutting down the rain forest and religion. Janvier said a man should get to sleep with a woman before marrying her. You don’t serve a meal without tasting it first, do you? Then I ran into sister Marie-Patrice and we went to greet the director of the women’s association.

911, 100words, Peace Corps are all intertwined in my life. Today I sat on the veranda of a protestant preacher’s house in Edam Cameroon waiting for the cashier of the credit union to open. We drank Guinness. Later, the president of the women’s tontine bought me a beer and we talked about how we can work together. She remembers clearly, two years ago October 17 when the CVECA opened. I don’t really understand where I am yet but I know that it’s taken me 2 years to get here and I’m contributing to a better world best I can. 911.

Puffy slate gray cloud in the fisheye sky at dusk creeping over the forest, suspended over the swamp. I doubt Bienvenu made it home, just a bush block firefly alley away, before the cloud over boiled.
It’s been a good day in the neighborhood. It was an hour motorcycle ride on dirt roads through the forest to Nko CVECA general assembly. They have the equivalent of $70 in the safe and $2000 in overdue loans outstanding. They talked about liquidity and set new fee schedules. Then they fed us viper and palm wine before we headed back along logging roads.

Tu es forte. Bienvenu said referring to Tuesday’s tour of small bars returning from the bush.
Tu es forte Malgoire said referring to riding on motorcycles way out into the bush 3 days in a row
Tu sais danser several folks said tonight, including a pack of 8-10 year old boys, a few too full of flirtatious complements.
It was a fun party celebrating Isaiah’s promotion to inspector. It’s 3 am. I’m sober, tired and my hair is completely wet from dancing. It looks like I’ve just come out of the shower. I’ll wash my feet and go to bed.

A Cameroonian party involves food, drink and dancing similar to an American wedding. Except that the food is presented as a buffet and often includes plantains and fish heads. The drinks for the most part consist of large bottles of beer and cups of palm wine. The dancing always starts by calling couples made up of local authorities and guests of honor, to the floor and having them dance for 30 seconds. Last night Aloys declared there was no way I could escape being called. He correctly predicated I’d be coupled with the 2nd Prefect, the highest ranking authority there.

Juliet, my neighbor and co-worker has finally returned from Yaoundé. It’s nice to have someone else around in the evenings. Earnest walked me home. He said he’d teach me how to cook Cameroonian food. We’ll start with fish. Earlier I’d said, “I’m hungry”. He was shocked. Women don’t say they’re hungry, they prepare meals. Men let them know when they’re hungry. Oh yeah? Well he’ll be cooking for me tomorrow.
He was also astounded to hear I’ve eaten viper. Only grown men eat viper. I get a kick out of his surprise while his big brother served it to me.

Earnest and I walked to the market. Bought 3 frozen Mackerel, 300 CFA of peanuts, 100 CFA of tomatoes, onion, 1 pepper, 3 cubes of magi and a heavy steam of plantains. He carried the plantains back. He’s really easy to talk to and corrects my French. He grilled the peanuts and sent them home to be crushed. He pealed and boiled the plantains, gutted and cleaned the fish. I borrowed a stone from the neighbor to crush pepper and garlic. He washed up as he went. Thursday we’ll do the same sauce with beef. I’ll cook, he’ll speak English.

I’m at a very awkward stage of recognizing people. The second or third time I meet people is always out of context with the previous time I talked to them. My landlord’s son returning from school in a uniformed pack. People from the telephone booth/shop pop up at the motorcycle garage. Random people wave from bars. I found Isaiah’s wife’s stall at the market. I’ve bought tomatoes from her before. The president of the bank in Kamba found us in town and bought us a beer. Those are people I’ve started to place, there are dozens of people I haven’t.

It’s an overcast gray morning. I slept the night through. A rooster is crowing with force, possibly attempting to wake the sun behind the clouds. I have boiling hot water in a bucket waiting for me to bathe and more boiled water cooling to filter for drinking. I have a lunchtime rendezvous with Ernest to buy some stools for my kitchen and some fresh beef for my first peanut sauce.

Hopefully everyone has returned safely from delivering the refinance money. Yesterday they set out on motorcycles to distribute the equivalent of $90,000 in cash to 22 rural banks spanning 150kilometers!

Happy Birthday Susan! Having her hear me say that cost 12,750 CFA. Feeling bad that he couldn’t warn me sooner, Pascal bought me a Guinness. I have 2 more years here, already my sister is so very far.
We did a protocol tour of administrators in town today. The Prefect asked what my family thinks of me living in Cameroon. Just before excusing us, he asked what my bracelet meant. I explained that my sister made it. She’s also wearing one until I return. He thought it was an African thing. Sisterhood is recognized everywhere. It really was your day.

I bought an orphan boy half a loaf of bread, then had my half filled with chocolate sauce. The man from the procurer’s office drinking Guinness at 9am insisted that I shake everyone’s hand. Finally bored at home, I walked into town, found Delphine and followed her to choir practice. After we went with Nico to a party at his uncle’s house. The drunkard from the procurer’s office was there with sticky hands. All eyes on my reaction, on my rhythm, I imitated him on the dance floor. Do you recognize me? I sold you meat. What do you drink?

I woke at 3:30 am from a mephoquin dream. The hard night rain was melodic until I remembered the laundry I’d left on the line. I imagined the white man in town comes to say hello but I’ve shaven years off his image. I remember leaving the remains of my fish outside the kitchen door. Someone is offering to order me expensive Indian food. Is that elsewhere in Cameroon? No it’s Electric Lotus, Dru smiles at me from Los Angeles. I get up to find my pants have fallen off the line and the fish bones have been picked clean.

Today was calmer. Everyone was in the office and I did a full day of work on a project proposal. I came home and fried some potatoes. Just after Juliet came home 3 farm boys who I’d briefly greeted on Saturday came looking for me. They sat there not knowing what to say. Juliet got them talking a bit. I chatted about random things, not knowing what coco plants look like, making my first Cameroonian peanut sauce and burning the pan, my blocked drain. They said they’d come again tomorrow. I don’t want to meet anymore new people this week.

I spent the evening next door at Juliet’s and was pleasantly surprised to come home and find bamboo chairs with bright floral cushions and a coffee table in my previously empty living room. I knew they were there but it’s the first time I’ve come home to them. Juliet told our co-workers she had things to take care of in town and then went to Yaoundé to buy them for me. By 4pm there was a pushcart outside my door with 5 chairs, a table and some shelves. She’s too good. I’m full of hope today, dreaming of big ideas.

Bienvenu’s uncle and namesake died last night. Bienvenu sent the guardian to call the staff early this morning. I was left at home watching Juliet’s baby. Bienvenu rented a van and the women went to market to buy frozen fish, rice, beer and boxed wine. Then we pilled into the van and bounced for 2 hours out to his village. The body was laid out in a mud hut with an open door. We sat around shelling peanuts. 4 hours later we ate and pilled back into the van. They’ll dig a hole in the yard and bury him tomorrow.

My frustration is starting to show and I’ve flipped overnight from open chatty, adaptable to feeling imposed upon, washed over and needing explanations. For once yesterday, I was not treated special. I got no translations and it made the day harder. Ernest returned. I’d expected to find him in the village yesterday at his uncle’s wake and was disappointed that he wasn’t there. He’s in town from Yaoundé for the weekend and unfortunately I’m headed to Yaoundé for a meeting tomorrow. I don’t know if spending the weekend with Americans making Akonolinga jokes will be good for me or not.

Love flow overload. Came into to Yaoundé today. Found Felice and Debbie in a taxi. Chris Et’ed last week. We shared stories of post. Got to the PC office to find 3 packages waiting for me. I worked through 50 e-mails. Sarah and Peter have booked flights for x-mas. Dad’s worked out a cruise in Greece for May. People have moved. Jocelyn has married. It’s Amy’s hen night in Brussels. Text messages from London. a new CD, foot cream, hand sanitizer, games, maps, cards, letters. The new agro trainees have arrived. Since Chris is gone I’m the new VAC representative.

“Your sunglasses. Put them on. Yes you look like Hillary Clinton.” I’m no longer squinting, I’m styling. But I’m following 3 Cameroonian boys through central market dropping big bills on a mattress, fan and curtains with men calling out any old western name as we pass trying to get me to turn my head, reaching out their hands to greet me and pull me in to their shops. Prices double, triple at the sight of my skin and my entourage begins the negotiations. I put my designer sunglasses back into my bag, it really isn’t the time to be styling.

We went out dancing in Akonolinga’s only nightclub last night. Around 1am someone comes to tell me that the Sous-prefect would like to see me outside. He climbed out of his land cruiser to talk to me. I kept a distance. How’d he know I was there? Well he’s the chief in town he explained adding that he’d called on me at home and was told that I was at the nightclub. I knew it was an impossible story. I’m slightly freaked out. I’ll probably run into him at the football game this afternoon too. several big fish, 1small town.

My eyes are covered in sleep deposits. There’s still no current, it’s been gone for over a day. I’m left in obscurity without electricity.
I went to the Yaoundé Renaissance football match. No goals but it was fun. Soon after I got home it started to pour. I got out my paints for the first time and sat by lantern and painted. It rained buckets and I collected 3 of them. Two of the girls next door came by to ask if they could throw a birthday party here. They’ve never talked to me before but I said ok anyway.

Rehashing yesterday once again… There was a goat to be eaten that a summer intern had given the office. I agreed we could eat it at my place before I was told that the host is responsible for providing drinks. Malgoire brought over his stereo. Ernest picked up the cases of Guiness & Castel. Everyone ate, drank and danced.
The Juliet’s baby sitter is going to clean my floors and kitchen 2 times a week. Lucky that she starts today. I’ve already swept up the goat bones off the floor. Kadafi, the landlord’s dog, is crunching away on them now.