I am settling in nicely to life in Meiganga. The house is pretty settled, although I constantly have house repairs to complete. But I feel like I have nicely fused my old ways of life with new tips I have picked up from the Cameroonians. I am making some friends and the children in my neighborhood are sort of starting to learn my name. The part that still makes me smile is the look I get from the 2-3 year old children. As I walk by, they freeze in their tracks, their eyes widen to a moon shape and in bobble-head fashion their heads follow my movement. It always makes me laugh and well generally feel like an alien. Such interactions incite a “ketchup on your face” sensation. The children constantly amaze me here. They could not be more adorable especially when they repeatedly yell out “white lady” after you have passed them half a mile down the road. I think I have seen maybe two stuffed animals here, but besides that toys are not a commonplace. Instead, in the most environmentally sustainable manner, they craft toys out of leftover parts and trash. The old tire and a stick bit still reigns. They make wooden cars and push them all around the quartier. Sometimes they put other little bits of trash in them, to carry around, give some purpose to their play. A few days ago I noticed a group of boys huddled around outside my house. I thought maybe they are plotting the overthrow of terrorism, or maybe just looking at porn. But no, in the ground they dug out holes in the ground to create an all-natural Mancala game. It was genius and although have yet to play, I am confident I will kick some butt.
So babies and children here at SO completely different than those found in the US. I know some people have “great babies” but not like here. The best example can be found in the terrible bus rides through the Adamoua region. The types of bus called “prison cars” have no windows, basically metal benches and always squeeze in one more extra person into each row. The roads are unpaved and quite bumpy and dusty. Already an unpleasant experience, but during the latest ride of seven hours, a maybe one and half year old was placed in the lap of another stranger as his mother already had three others to deal with. So the women’s lap he is placed in was well not “thin”, the man in front had no backrest and he kept falling asleep and therefore into our laps. So basically this baby is being smooshed into a tiny little crevice from all sides and angelically sat in silence or sleep for the entire ride. At various times during the trip his mother would pass back some water or food and strangers would help feed him. If I weren’t sitting next to him, I wouldn’t have known he was there. This is common with all the other bus rides I have taken. You barely hear babies cry and these are long, dusty and bumpy trips.
When I moved into the house, the side door that connects to the garden and water pump was broken. So before I went out to buy a new lock I tried to unscrew the old to make sure I got the right type. Well after a good two minutes of trying, genius realized it was welded to the door. Which is a common place in Cameroon, so the next realistic solution is to have them take the door away. So this morning a man came, took the entire door, put it on a motorcycle and returned five minutes later with a new lock on it. I took advantage of this open hole in my house to do some dishes outside. A single part of the lock was broken and so the entire door is taken away. It couldn’t have taken more than 8 minutes and cost maybe 4 dollars. If that is not efficiency, I don’t know what is.
I was hanging out in the yard of some friends yesterday and all of a sudden a young boy appeared from nowhere yelling something carrying a sack over his shoulder. Like sharks to blood, young children from every nook and cranny of the neighborhood emerged to gather around the boy. The family erupted in laugher and encouraged the young man of family to join in. Turns out that these kids can bring their broken shoes to this boy and he will give them small candies in exchange. It is sort of like the Cameroonian version of the Goodwill, but instead of tax write-offs you get a bon bon. I can be halfway around the world, but life here can be so familiar.
I started what I consider my first week of work here. I spent each morning at the private hospital basically shadowing the staff. It is a small facility, with maybe six staff members. Monday and Tuesday I observed pre-natal consultations, Wednesday was infant vaccinations, Thursday I worked in the pharmacy. I just wanted to get an idea of what goes on there. All in all, an eye opening experience. I got to feel where a baby was positioned in a pregnant woman, hear a baby’s heartbeat through the belly and weigh dozens of skinny, fat and generally adorable babies. It is popular here to decorate your baby in knitted cotton sets. As if your grandmother made an outfit for every single Cameroonian child. At one point during infant vaccinations I was helping a nurse weigh and register babies, she plopped a baby on the scale and just disappeared. After ten minutes, the mother was understandably starting to get irritated and I looked out at a sea of mothers and babies waiting. I searched the entire hospital (which isn’t very much, there are only about four rooms) only to find her in the last room, well, delivering a baby. No one said anything. I didn’t hear any screams-being four feet away. It was the strangest thing.
I have a feeling I will settle in nicely here. I just have to figure out exercise and some sort of routine. If anyone was worried, I had my dose of grilled fish again. Really you all should visit just for the fish. I miss everyone dearly and erupt in joy with every letter, email, package. The only thing missing from this place is lox and you.
