PICTURES!!!!!

A dimly lit shot of the living room in Pitoa

Familial Pit Latrine

Practicing being a health volunteer with the youth group

Me, Caitlyn, Sonia(taught me french), Cara in our matching Swearing-In pagne

The language and tech trainers at Swearing-In Ceremony

Love it

The famdamily-Edith, Me, Diane, Cedric, Flo, Damari, Hassiya

My beautiful sisters(and baby) Damari, Flo, Cedric and Edith

My quaint room during training in Pitoa

Cedric the best baby

Flo next to our newly built Foyer Ameliore-improved cookstove

Diane and my husband in our courtyard

My homestay sister Damari(i think between Edith's legs)

Theo our tech trainer, Cara and Brianna showing the wonders of latex

Garou Soccer Game-Mike is in the background leading a wave.


Pitoa Health Training Center-End of Rainy Season

Settling into the Nest

So a lot of time of passed since I last wrote, but it has been a bit of a whirlwind since training ended and I got to post. The entire process of moving from one stage to the next was a bit abrupt. Saying goodbye to my family was especially difficult. Right before we left we built a “foyer ameliore” together. It is an improved cookstove which creates more of oven than the fire they typically cook with. It helps reduce smoke intake, uses less wood and looks nice! It was great to get my hands dirty and do something truly productive for the family. I walked to the fields with my mother to collect dry grass and she was so proud of what we were doing together. Neighbors kept stopping by all day and my sister and brother were able to really show off their skills as they go to the masonry high school. It was the most productive day I had in Cameroon.

So I just spent the first week alone at my post. I tell you putting a house together in the states is a challenge, but with language barriers, bargaining and lugging everything around on motorcycles and what are basically wheelbarrows, I am exhausted. I think have created quite a scene this past week lugging giant plastic bowls and wooden beds around town. I spent two days painting the living room and kitchen. Although it was a bit of a herculean feat, it was quite hilarious to have people come by the house and watch with wonder my act of painting inside. Some young guys earnestly asked “do girls/women in America do this often?” But it opened a great door to come by the next day and help some new friends paint their place. It felt good to be of some use, even if it didn’t have anything to do with development or health work! But after eating crackers and peanut butter for a week, I have proper stove, gas tank and table to cook on. My first meal I think I ate in 20 seconds because it was so great to eat food I really wanted to eat.

So typically Cameroonians just burn their trash here. In my neighborhood if you throw something out the neighborhood children sift through it all. It is actually a pretty environmentally sustainable process, well except for the burning of plastic in the same vicinity where small children play. So the day the previous volunteer moved all of her stuff out of the house, I assume some of her Cameroonian family members helped throw things out and left some toilettries in a pile. So a half hour after the house has been purged and I am alone, three small girls return with a display of goods on the porch. There are a few bottles of contact solution, some lotion and well, a bottle of vaginal cream. The oldest girl asks in French that her mother wants to know what all these things are for. So here I am with an audience of neighborhood children staring wide-eyed. I explain the contact solution is medicine for your eyes but you can wash the bottles out and use them for something else, the lotion for your skin and then I am speechless. I can’t find a way to explain the vaginal cream, even if the mother was to use it for something. I also don’t want to ignore it and have the girls spread it on their faces or something. So I quickly take it back and burn it immediately. I like to think they were none the wiser.

I have a great marche in town open everyday. There is also a smaller marche only with food products at the end of my street. But the first time I went there I was the only shopper at the time and truly felt a million eyes on me, so now I go to the big show. Generally veggies and fruit are sold at small fruit stalls, there are always tomatoes, garlic, onions, peppers, bananas, oranges, herbs and dry goods. Lately I have seen green beans and eggplants so I am pretty content with my options. My new obsession is the grilled fish here. They are typically carp or capitaine fish, which are rubbed with a salt spice mixture and grilled. Then they give you some mayonnaise and a chile sauce with these battons of maize, which when I first ate thought they were rubbery sticks of starch, but have come to love. I could eat this fish everyday. I am in love.

For Christmas Cameroonians dress in their new clothes and basically just saunter around town visiting friends and family. So I did the same. I went to a party at the pastor’s house with filled with soda, tons of food and Spaceballs in French. Although it was a bit chillier than normal, but really it didn’t feel a thing like Christmas. I had to keep reminding myself, well that and cheesy Christmas carols being played in between Ne-yo and Usher songs and a few tinsel trees sold in the marche. I guess New Years is a big deal here too, well have to see if it can live up to epic years past.

1st week-traveling on the train to the North from Yaounde



Group Picture in Philly before flight


Ride up north, women selling yogurt and local dishes

I am trying to post more pictures and a blog entry but it is painfully slow, so patience!

Meiganga: say it anyway you like

Before ANYTHING ELSE: Thank all that is holy for our newly elected president. Words cannot express. Lets hope he is all I want him to be and more.

So I am looking down the barrel site visit week and equally exhilirated and terrified. To sum it all up: overwhelming. I had a nice volunteer to show me around and live with. She really was helpful with everything and I can't thank her enough. One night she made the comment "I thought coming from training you would have a lot more energy" and realized that I was just overwhelmed by it all. I mean I was meeting all these people, running around a new town, walking around this house, getting a glimsp of my LIFE for the next two years. I mean my french isn't up to par, there is more work that I know what to do with and I was seperated from these people who have become like a family for me the past 6 wks. With all that said, ultimately I think I am incredibly lucky.

My house: PC luxury, they really don't tell you about some of these houses in the pc interviews: two bedrooms, two bathrooms, electricity, running water, a water HEATER, flowers all around the front of the house. It doesn't really feel like pc in that place. But its a-okay by me, i'll learn to adjust.

My postmate: super mellow, really nice guy from Ohio. He is an english teacher at the local high school, has a good sense of humor and a general go with the flow guy.

One of the bummers of my post is that my province is pretty isolating, due to the terrible conditions of the road. So seeing other volunteers often isn't much of a reality. The closest large town is about 4 hrs on a bumpy dusty road, but it is the train stop to the south so a lot of people will be traveling through. I have got "le couple" in the next major town over, so things are looking up.

So the town of Meiganga is pretty big with a bit of a bordertown feel. We are right on the border with the Central African Republic, so lots of refugees and people moving through. The downtown isn't a sight, but the region surrounding the town is gorgeous right now, green mountains, with waterfalls and lakes. I can't wait to explore the region. The climate is quite cooler than the north, there were even some nights where I needed a BLANKET. There is a larger diversity of food available, so of course I am happy. Plus I have a mango tree outside the house and a avo tree down the street. AYO! things are looking up for miss "I am going to tempt volunteers to my post with culinary wonders barefoot contessa would ponder." I had the most incredible grilled fish the first night. I was sitting in this dingy bar, totally exhausted, but man was I happy. This lady grilled it straight on the street, rubbed a little salt on it, put some mayo on the side(who would have thought so good) and spicy chili sauce, some onions and toms. God, I craved it all week.

But the work, OH the work! I am SO excited and motivated, I can't even express it. So I have these two counterparts I am set up to work with. One works with a local NGO that basically serves as a community connector to the large intl. NGOs here like UNICEF and the cammeroonian gov't. My counterpart is absolutly wonerful, really motivted and smiley. He speaks the local languages(there are two in meiganga!) and couldn't be nicer. The other is this powerful and warm women who is from the west but her husband and her run the small private hospital in town. They need me to help with organizing the pharmacy, pre-natal/nutrition consults, and much more. Then there are three women's centers in town. One I am going ot work with to help get a little more organized and work generating some more money to expand the services of the center. The big work at the center is teaching income generating and language classes to young girls who have dropped out of school. So I am hoping to do some cooking classes with them and maybe some self-confidence/business classes. (Let me just previce this all with this is what I think I will be doing, things could completely change after the first three months)

I also stopped by this other women's center that was built only a few years ago, 14 empty rooms with signs above the doors, signifying what they are meant for "infirmiry, classroom, midwives, sewing room, kitchen, ect" but nothing is going on there. So it is my pet project to try to get some action into that place!

There are small projects with a library run by catholic nuns, computer labs for a church and the ngo, i might get involved with UNHRC in town, but I wasn't able to meet with them that week. Then the last day I stopped by the meetings of these two GICs, which are basically women's groups. It was fascinating. One has been around for a few years and is extremely organized. They managed to get some loans from banks and have a weekly fund to pay it back. They time it so that each woman can take out money right before the school year and therefore send their kids to school. They also rent out a room and teacher for classes in reading and writing, income genreating act. and health. They are trying to get birth certificates for all the orphans in town so they can go to school and what not. The second just started,but are really motivated, they mostly do work in the fields together and then sell the products. I hope I can do a lot of organizational work with them.

HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY! Hopefully my french, fulfulde, baya will be up to par and I can help this community out some more. A major part of my work the first three months will be conducting evaluations of the community and their health issues to see what work is most needed and learn about the community at large.

Quick funny story: so Halloween was a blast. It was exhilarating to stay out past dark and listen to some American music. We had our counterpart workshop all day and didn't get finished til late so I was running around trying to get my costume together and get to the party where everyone already is. So I have a typical colorful pagne outfit already made, but my plan to fufill the chiquita banana role was to tie real bananas to my matching pagne wrap. So it is about five and the marche is basically shut down, two fellow volunteers have mercifully agreed to help me find these bananas. Man I will do anything for a good halloween costume. So only one guy is selling bananas at this point, they are moldy and way overpriced but it felt like salvation. I was only able to keep the entire outfit going for the first 15 mintues of teh party, but it was a mild sucess for me!

So one special thing about Meiganga is this red dust. The cars you take out there are what people call "prison buses" they basically just stuff you in there and everyone has themselves covered with some wrap, because this red dust gets EVERYWHERE, and i mean everywhere! It didn't seem that bad one the ride, but when I took a shower later that night, I found it in places I didn't even know dust could exist. When I took a shower yesterday, after washing my body, I shaved my legs and the water was still running red. So all who plan to visit and I assume that is most of you, keep your whites at home!

Okay, time is running out. I will write more later. I still miss and think about you all on this side of the planet. Write, call, send packages with spices and magazines. I have a new PO box in meiganga

Allison Sander
B.P. 89
Meiganga, Cameroon

still follow all those notes on sending stuff.

Much love

Baby Chickens, Baby Cats, Baby Cameroonians

Not much changes in my life here in Cameroon, so I decided to give a play by play of a "typical day for Ali" in Cameroon.

I wake up at the crack of dawn, wrestle my mosquito net, slap on some sandels, and open my bedroom door to the most refreshing, invigorating air of my life. There is a special way my bedroom traps humidity, stale air and light. Walking outside in the mornings is like being born again, not the Christian type. First thing, help my ten year old sister with the dishes. My family has a well cordinated plan of morning chores, where everyone is doing something, thereby finishing it all by 6:30am. I scrub away, much of the time using the sand underneath my feet as that special bristly part of the sponge to scrub the dishes,which is an entirely sustainable and natural process. A family of newborn chickens usually scavenge the leftover bits of couscous and our new baby kitten hides under my feet. Sometimes it feels like charlottes web or something, life both animal and human in the morning is indescribably delicious. Once all the dishes are done I typically take a bucket bath. They are quite refreshing and I have come to love them, well except for the smells coming from the toilet. I usually return to my room to find my 10 month old brother proped up on a small bowl in the middle of the courtyard. I have yet to, but most definietly will, take a picture of this sight. There are few other things so completely adorable. Much like an Anne Geddes photo, this tiny baby fits perfectly, in this tiny mixing bowl, a majority of the time completely alone while the rest of the family prepares for the day. It is their form of potty training, but most of the time he starts peeing before he gets to the bowl, or in his underwear. Before learning french, before mastering the Cameroonian public health system, it is my goal to get him to take his first steps. We have the most fun together racing around the familial compound. Sometimes when the family is spitting off in Fulfulde or at times french, I like to just watch him and all his facial expressions. He makes each day a little bit better. That and the rest of the family. I am so happy with them and really fallen into a grove with my life at home.

After filling up my water bottle with so clean you could drink it filtered water I stop in for a quick breakfast. My family seems to pick up on the slightest of cues and always have a piping hot cup of tea and these incredible rice beignets for me. I am not a breakfast eater and they comprise a perfect nibble to get me through the morning. Most of the family has left for school by this time, as school tends to be a good thirty minute walk. Sometimes there is an aerobics class on tv, very entertaining, but mostly I like to just sit in the peace and quiet, a real rarity in my house. But I love the energy. There is always neighbors and friends over, watching tv, eating peanuts, discussing some action that happened in the market. Some nights the girls all sit around and just tease and make jokes at one another. It reminds me of home, in the best way possible. It is filled with so much good humor and love, and is equally dispersed throughout the whole family.

On my eight minute walk to school each morning I pass the local elementary school. Five or six women sit out everyday with peanutes, fried potoates and other snacks to be sold. Various circles of girls playing the infamous "anteka" is the way i think it sounds, a beloved game of odds involving hopping and clapping. I am terrible at it, but I am positive it is endlessly entertaining to my family watching. I love watching all the kids reactions as I walk by, so curious, so shy, calling out Nasarra, white person, because well they really don't know what else to call me. I have picked up a few greetings in Fulfulde and they always seem to go over well. I finally reach the training center and give a nod to our training's mascot, a massive cow with horns that span a good six feet, who has found a home all on his own in the field across the street.

Our center is kept behind a large wall, which makes it feel all at once protected and intimidating. But behind those metal doors is a beautiful garden. There are usualy some morning French tutoring sessions going on. I like to get there early and chat in English a little, before the entire center becomes a zone of "immersion" where we can only speak in french. I hate it and love it both. I think it really helps you to learn french, but so frusterating to not be able to say exactly what you want to. Each day we have one or two sessions of french in classes of three or four. It is mostly conversation based, blah, blah, blah. Boring i know. Then we typically have technical sessions that focus on the type of heath work we will be doing at post. Most of the time a volunteer comes and does a few sessions with us. The topics have been interesting, but seem to go a little slow. I feel confident in my skills to convey these public health messages, but want more of the factual, science-based goods. We have had a few field trips, one to the local hospital and the aids testing clinic in the main city. Both have been extremely interesting learning about what works and what doesn't in these centers. It seems to be mostly routed in a lack of funding and organization.

Lunch is an exciting puntuation in our day. Our lunch lady, who honestly doesn't seem to like us very much, although she completely overcharges us for the exact same meal every day. It is a chance to drink cold sodas, the most I have ever had in my life, and talk about our lives back home. It is always so odd to make friends when you are abroad. You have them in this very narrow and isolated enivornment and so a life back home with family, friends, boyfriends is almost non-existant. Walking to the home of our lunch lady can be quite the feat of endurance, under the brillance of the sun and the large trucks that create windstorms of dust. There is this one elderly lady who we always find along the route, sitting in her doorway, shaking her fists at us and saying something in Hindi. At first we thought she wanted money, then we thought she was cheering us on, now it is back to the begging, but we just smile and wave as if it is the more preferable option. On our way back to the center, we typically find our cheery and plump peanut lady, with these little sacks of roasted peanuts, to which I have formed a serious addiction to. She always tries to expand our Fufulde repitoire past hello, which I thank her kindly for. My face hurts from all the smiling I have done here.

One of the highlights of the week for me is our community group meetings. All the trainees have split into four groups, each working with a different community group. Mine is the youth group, a collection of mostly male 18-28 year olds who can't seem to find work from the government and so have begun cultivating land for a small profit. We are supposed to find a few health topics they are interested in and present four animations for them. In french. They are extremely patient with us, always show up on time and in large numbers. It is a great "throw you right in" opportunity of what post work will actually be like. I always get incredibly nervous beforehand and flow on a natural high cloud after it is finished. I love it. The first two meetings we just got to know them and made seasonal calenders which map out what type of work they do certain certain parts of the year and when certain illnesses hit certain seasons, ect. Last week we did our first animation on Malaria. It went great, we went over the lifecycle of maleria in the body, to explain and often difficult to catch symptoms. We showcased different techniques of prevention with two giant drawings of what not to do and what to do. It seemed a bit infantile, but a good hands on exercise. They started asking really complex questions, that took us about twenty minutes to translate in french and then ultimately couldn't answer. That made us feel a little stupid, but we got past it with shrugging shoulders and laughs. There are only three women in the group and although they are quite outspoken, I worry for them sometimes. When we were picking topics to do animations on, the men explained that maternal health wasn't important to them. Our wonderful Bradley jumped in trying to explain the imortance of male particpation, but it seemed like a futile attempt. I think we are doing it anyways, coupled with sexual health to keep the attention of the men.

In the evenings, we have taken it upon ourselves to grab A SINGLE BEER at a local bar in our town and unwind the day. Then as the packs of bats start to fly over us and the sun sets, the call to prayer, really just calls us home. I come home to my family, throw off my chacos, pull out the french grammar books and plop down on the mat with the rest of the family. I eat a dinner of couscous and a spinachy-peanuty sauce or spaghetti and tomatoe sauce with fish. My homestay sister is a wonderful cook in our partially falling down kitchen. She cooks my dinner in complete darkness, over a wood-powered fire, cutting tomatoes in her hands. I don't know how she does it, my very own superwoman. I am schemeing to come up with some type of plan to make her life easier, or at least healthier. Then my favorite Brazilian soap opera(in french) comes on, where somebody who loves somebody else, but can't be with them because of money, the baby or he is a "sheik". I typically crawl into bed several hours before the rest of family. They must wonder what I am doing with all this sleep and close my eyes to the wonder that is my ipod.

Well I am boring myself now. Things here are really just to difficult to explain on the computer. I am still incredibly happy and fitting in nicely here. You will all just have to come visit.

Next week on Thursday we get our POST ASSIGNMENTS. This is a really big deal, as it decides our home for the next two years! Then we meet our counterparts, the Cameroonians who will partner with us for all of our work at post. Then it is a week of site visits, where we go stay with the current volunteer at the post, if there is any, and get a feel for the place. This is all after our very exciting Halloween party we have got planned. I am going as Chiquita Banana, as the local outfit here, pagne, is a perfect picture for ms. chiquita and I plan to wrap banana in my matching head wrap.

So hopefully the next time I write, I will have much more exciting news. I still miss everyone and will love to hear back tidbits from people. I hate to turn into one of those volunteers who always talks about packages. But if you want to send something, I would love crayons or other coloring materials for my future work at post, really thick, deep novels you can only read in the middle of nowhere and of course some candy.

I don't think I can watch the election coverage as I will be at the site visit during that time, but my every thought will be on it. I hope this next post will be in a bright new shiny light!

Getting My Toes Wet

Hello All!



I know it has been a while, but sometimes Cameroon feels like a desert island. I tried to write last weekend, the weekend before that and the one before those both and spent the entire hour watching the computer screen. I was barely able to check my internet and my blog entry was lost two many viruses. But it is a new day and I have so much to tell. The problem is, it is very difficult to describe things here. I will do my best however, this place has its fair share of stories.



I begin, well at the beginning:



So here I am, watching my very new homestay mother drag my 500 pound duffel bag, wheels sinking in the sand, through mass crowds of curious children. The line was littered with neighbors, it seemed as if a small dignitary was visitng town. Previous to this, I had taken a 16 hour overnight train ride from the capitol. Then we drove for five hours, all without washng or eating very much. So basicaly my new homestay family has received a vagabond, who could eat a shirt.



My mother is sweating, panting her way home, all just to lug my bag full of gatorade packets and solar powered contraptions. I am spitting out "Bonjour" as fast as humanly possible to whoever will look at meet, while I myself ooze with sweat since my other two bags proably weigh 80 pounds combined. I am convinced that I would put Man vs. Wild to shame with my abilty to survive with the items founds in these three bags. I am embarrassed, needless to say.



Can I just say how LUCKY i am wth the homestay family I got paired with. My new family are positivly a dream homestay situation. I have lived with my fair share, and so far this is great. A week later it is still great. The head of the family is a widow with eight kids, a very common number in northern Cameroon. I think there are three boys and five girls, but really it changes weekly. Some kids are cousins, or friends taken in temporarily. It is a hodgepodge, but they manage to make it pretty loving and welcoming. They all look like models and are insanely kind, patient, friendly and don't have a problem laughing at each other.



We live down a little alleyway from a main road. The house is composed of a few small rooms, all connected by the central courtyard which is outdoors, but covered by a tin roofing. The kitchen and bathroom have tin walls and the bathroom is a latrine with no roof. Bucket showers under the stars have quite the romantic feel. well maybe except for the smell of the latrine.



First thing i do, rip my pants on their chair, basically exposing my derriere. So as each guest arrives, there was a lot of them, I awkwardly get up and greet them painfully aware of the show i am giving in back. One of the older sons speaks great french and is very friendly. He is a semi-pro soccer payer and we talk soccer. I now know he is only a friend of the family. This is a commn theme. When I tell him I love soccer and can play, he gives me a single raised eyebrow. Then I painfully ask him in french what position he plays on the team. We resort to drawings in the sand. I explain I am a defensemen, he gives another "doubtful" look. He is totally unimpressed. The only girls teams he knows of are in the capitol city. I will have to look into it. Lots of people stop by curious i am sure. One guy has a new flashy camera phone and takes endless pictures of me and then ones of just the two of us. So I am pretty sure I am his new girlfriend in the village.



The entire time I am suprised by my ability to communicate. This pattern really ebbs and flows with time. I did however agree to have my hair braided and attend Catholic church the followng sunday, so I guess I wasn't able to adequately discuss that. In the end, I did have my hair braided for about three days. It was the LONGEST possible time I could stand it. My homestay sisters think I am a doll and love my hair, skin, nose, eyes. Yet they all look like Iman, and I am a pale blob of sweat. So I let them braid my hair, I no doubt looked rediculous and it was actualy quite uncomfortable to sleep in. They could not for the life of themselves understand why I took it out, I just kept explaining over and over that I have to wash my hair every other day. They still weren't convinced.



Chruch was a interesting event. It poured the night before, and so walking to church without becoming a mud doll was a challenge. In Cameroon nice, clean shoes and feet are a really big deal. Everyone commments on your shoes, they think chacos are beautiful, and themselve wear only the finnest heels and sandals. The problem is, it is IMPOSSIBLE to keep these things clean here. So we finally reach the church, but before we can enter there is a massve puddle in front of the church and it is the only way through. So little kids are taking off their shoes and walking through it, the adults are delicatly balancing pumps and leather dress shoes on the tops of rocks above the water. I mysef am sporting a very stylish long jean shirt and manage to frantically hike it up above my knees, very scandalous, and wobble my way over the rocks. Bascially, I was quite relieved to have not fallen in the maleria infested puddle, in front of the crowd that had formed around this circus act. So I am about to walk into the church and my sisters pull me aside, due to the embarassing about of dirt on my shoes and feet. We are late, well by cameroonian standards, everyone is watching and there is no water source in site to clean myself with. So i go for my purified water bottle and my sisters screeched in horror as I dumped it on my feet. It was actually adorable, but I really didn't want to be any more embarassing than I had already been. The service was a blur and pretty boring. But the music was beautiful and this one guy had a pantsuit outfit made with Jesus' face plastered all over it.



One day the US Ambassador came to meet us, she gave us American candy bars. I think I ate my whole.



For the most part in my village, they don't speak french at home, but Fulfulde. So one night, I was working on writing down some simple terms, but really communicating in french is challenge enough. I think the aim of training is to get a handle on french and then fulfulde comes after, while at post. The same night, I had one of the best experiences so far. Awkwardly, I eat my own little foreigner meal, with my right hand, and the family watches me. All of a sudden, the entire family gets up and begins to load wood into the storage place. Everyone, even the eight year old girl helps and I am left sitting there, the fat American eating pasta. So I ask if I can help, they refuse, I insist and they give in. This always happens. So we line up to carry bundles of wood, the boys are loading the wood into smaller piles to carry. First of all, they think it is bizarre that I want/can help. Second, one of the girls grabs my hands and expresses her extreme worry that I will hurt the palms of my hands. So each time I go to grab a pile the brother's asses and purposly give me smaller piles. Each time I insist they load it up more and they basically add twigs. Well in the end, my family loved it and think I am the hulk. This is being said, as my sisters flex their perfectly toned arms, so really they are too kind. I think things changed that night. Before the volunteers seemed to stick to their rooms and the PC training center, so the fact that I hangout and helpout has made things really comfortable between us. Exciting news, my family got a new kitten and four new chicks the other day. However, due to necessary health precautions I can't touch either. But they bring joy to the everyday.



It is the end of the rainy season here, so everything is quite lush. The town I live in is pretty typical. It is considered a bit of cosmopolitan town due to the weekly market that happens here. It is a great market, I am sure you could find everything. People come from miles and miles away to sell shoes, prescription drugs, goats, bon bons, and more. The town is basically half muslim, half christian even though the north is considered a predominantly muslim area. The other day we were walking back from lunch and a large gathering of men had gathered to pray. It was quite a sight, a sea of blue and white pagne and little flat hats blocked the roadway. Some men sitting nearby kindly redirected us. I don't hear the call to prayer that often, but I just love it when I do manage to catch it. The reason I started this paragraph was to talk about the rain here. Now granted I have been living in Portland these past couple years, but I have never seen rain like this before. It doesn't pour here, it POUNDS. You basically can't do very much and really can't hear anyone as it comes down. It really feels like the sky is crying due to the intense yet short nature of the rainfall. An hour after you will go out on the street and barely see puddles.The earth just eats it up. It is one of those rains that you just stop and watch. I love it, it makes the whole landscape come alive in smells and colors. The thunder cracks so loudly your hearts skips a beat. One day we were walking back from lunch, a couple female volunteers, and it started to pour. We had spent the past couple weeks frying and the droplets just felt like heaven so we continued on walking through it. It really starts to pick up and we just start laughing uncontrollably because all the Cameroonians are running for cover and are huddled under tiny trees and overhangings. Those crazy foreigners are walking and laughing in the rain again. It felt like the last scene in Monsoon Wedding. We are supposed to educate them on health pratices and we are taking a joy ride in the rain. But it felt great.



One of the great things are doing during training are these community groups. As volunteers we split into four groups and once a week meet with a community group in our village. The group I am working with is the Youth Group, a organzation of young people, some employed, most are unemployed, majority are men. Technically we are supposed to find out some way we can help them, either by doing some presentations on health or group organization. Basically we get to pratice our French and learn more about Cameroonian youth. They were great and so patient with us. We threw a frisbee around and asked them what their group does. Basically they can't find jobs, so they grow tomatoes and onions to sell at the market. Then that money goes into a pot and whenever someone needs it more an emergency, they decide together what to do about it.

That's all for now folks. I can't possibly write more. I would to hear more news from everyone else, especially election news. The Cameroonian news does a two minute clip every major debate, with one line from each candidate. So I am basically in the dark. I miss everyone dearly and think of you often.

Pop the Champagne!

Let me commence the first of hopefully many posts. I have always been a critic of such blogs, but to correctly convey my experiences the next two years, I thought it necessary. I have included my address for the first three months on the side. I will also be checking my email for a bit more personal connection. Things are awfully crazy right now, so I have no words of reflection or inspiration. Hopefully next time your eyes meet this page, I will have some thrilling story from CAMEROOOOOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!