After the previous night’s transgressions, I was intrigued by what lied ahead during my stay in Edea. I showered, sans bucket bath and the cold water never felt so good. I had gone through the entire wardrobe I brought to Edea so I went with the freshest smelling clothes I had. Those from the first day, which I practically sweat through. Smell a Cameroonian and you’ll tell me how I could pass for a new Bath and Bodyworks fragerance.
I went outside and the youngest boy, Henery (sp?), wandered over. He had already informed that Greg, the PCV before me, and he were friends and that he used to play Greg’s Playstation 2. I assured him that when I purchased a TV he would be able to come over and play games whenever I wasn’t busy. He looked around and saw my iPod plugged into an iPod speaker I had found. He promptly asked if he could borrow it and give it back to me that night. Since music is one of the few things that keep me sane in this crazy country I had to tell him I couldn’t let him since I would be leaving, but that if I was at home he was always welcome to come listen to music with me. He didn’t seem to discouraged and quickly asked if he could borrow the playing cards I found in the house. This was a request I was much more happy to oblige. I never got them back during site visit and it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I’m sure he will get more fun out of them than I ever could. I’ve got some OSU cards still, which are way sweeter anyways.
During this whole conversation I was still waiting on Mr. D to call and tell us what we would be doing that morning. Have you noticed a pattern?
I also made a note that people kept laughing when I said enchante to them. I thought it meant pleased to meet you, and I used it quite frequently since I had been meeting so many people around Edea. I’m not sure if it just means enchanted in English or what, but I feel like I was saying the wrong thing because a lot of people just laughed and said D’accord, which means OK, when I said it. Save that question for a later day I guess.
I finally got ahold of Mr. D and he said to meet him at ENIEG. I was comfortable enough by this point to hail a moto and get myself to my new place of employment. When I got there Mr. D said that we had an important schedule that day. This was soon followed by a cap full of Bourbon or Rum, Tres Cepas to be exact, for Mr. D. He told me that he didn’t drink from it very often but the liquor level was under the label on the bottle so you be the judge. He offered it to me. When in Rome… or Africa…
Feeling a little less froggy for Mr. D’s lateness after my cap of Rum, we were off to meet some finance guy Mr. D thought I should meet. I should mention now that Mr. D is the boss of finances at ENIEG. Anyways, we get to his office and what do ya know he also offers to get me a Cameroonian wife. Maybe I should just get Je suis celibataire (I am single) tattooed on my forehead. Scratch that, surefire way to get AIDS in this country via tattoo cleanliness.
We went to meet the prefet after, but he wasn’t in again for the second day in a row. We headed to the gendarmerie, basically where the military men of Cameroon stay/live/work/not really sure. We waited on a bench outside an office for awhile waiting to meet with some high ranking officer, but Mr. D decided we should take off to maximize the use of our time in Edea. I thought we were leaving. Pretty soon I find myself on the outskirts of a 20 minute conversation between Mr. D and one of the gendarme generals, could be the wrong title I just went with the alliteration. Kind of like The Rock Knockers Fantasy Football Team. If you haven’t noticed, I reference a lot of weird stuff in my blog. Not apologizing, just saying that little X in the upper right hand corner is for anyone that gets tired of my rants, raves, and rabies. My bad, ran out of R-words.
Right after our “make use of time” spiel Mr. D decided that we should go get a beer with our new gendarme friend. In hindsight, it probably was a good idea for us to make good friends with this guy, but at the time I’m thinking this is what you mean by being efficient with time?! We spent like an hour and a half at the bar chatting this guy up and by we, I mean solely Mr. D. He took down my name and number so he could “ensure my safety.” Everyone keeps telling me that this is part of the process of keeping me safe, but I don’t like that everyone needs to know where I am at all times. I turned 23 three months ago, but I’m going on 13 in Africa. I also made a note at this point in the juncture that most Cameroonians look stoned. Just an observation.
After the bar we went into some finance institute that Mr. D thought that I should introduce myself to. I felt like his new little white pet after awhile, despite his enormous generosity. I shouldn’t complain because soon after Mr. D took me to a store to buy the stove I would need to cook food and haggled 1000 CEFA off of it. It’s only like $2 in the US, but I probably would have been paying an extra 4000 CEFA had I been by myself. After we left the store, Mr. D informed me that while we were walking a moto driver said, “Hello Jesus” to me. I’m guessing it was the beard, but maybe he creeped on my Facebook pics from Halloween 09’.
I made a note on the ride home, in which we went down the wrong side of the road again at one point, that they filled the potholes in Edea with large chunks of broken rock. Yeah, it sounds dumb to me too. The motos just swerve around them and as far as I can tell they contribute to the problem as much as help it. Maybe after the limited amount of cars in Edea drive over it enough, it will flatten it out enough to make a difference. I remain skeptical until that level has been reached.
I met Mr. D back at the school and we chilled in his office. Did I mention he has A/C in there? Yeah, could hang out there all day. And that’s pretty much what we did while “waiting” for someone that never showed up. Mr. D kept falling asleep and I decided to pull the two chairs together and make my own little nap surface. Mr. D woke up at one point and smoke gibberish at me. I just rapped, that’s what Cameroonians call it when we speak fast/American English at them, back at him. Wasn’t practicing my Slim Shady, trust me. I don’t know what prompted this thought, but I also made a note that Mr. D had been making a habit of ordering warm water AND beer. I guess if you never get it cold, you just kind of get used to it. Not something I am looking forward to acquiring the taste for, but hey what can ya do.
Mr. D took me to his village, Nkankanzock (pronounced Kahn-Kahn-Zock), that night. We grabbed some motos for a 6-8 minute ride outside of Edea, during which I saw a lady squatting on the side of the road to relive herself. Didn’t have time to stop and ask her what number. Up to this point, Peace Corps cross cultural lessons had been telling us that you don’t shake the village leader’s hands, but bow and clap three times. This guy extended his hand towards me when I greeted him like he was straight out of the states. Maybe it’s only in remote villages or he was just accommodating his white guest I’m not sure. Mr. D showed me around, introduced me to some more of his kids and a baby mama or two. Everyone was extremely friendly and welcoming. I wish I spoke better French because they were speaking to me in English, but I know we could have talked more if my French was better.
After the village excursion we went to a bar where they normally have traditional African dances on the weekends. I thought he meant there would be a dance that night on the stage, but I must have misunderstood. I was allowed to pee in the house of the bar owner. The son let me in, and led me to the toilet in the pitch dark. Luckily, I had my handy dandy cell phone light. Before I could turn it on, however, I thought I found the light in the bathroom and pulled over the toilet and above my head. Of course, it ripped off in my hand and I quickly draped it back over a surface and pretended like it never happened. I also noticed that the toothbrushes in this bathroom were WAY too close to the splash zone of the toilet. It’s like they’re asking for dysentery.
I also saw a huge freaking African rat at said bar. This thing put Master Splinter to shame, minus the kimono and karate. Mr. D and I had some very interesting conversations. He wanted to know if we had sumo wrestlers in the states and we also had a talk about boxing. Both topics pretty much came out of left field, which also might be where Cameroon is located in a baseball stadium.
I am tired and need to go to bed so I can get up and wash my clothes and the plates from dinner since my host brother Landry is sick and I know the host dad isn’t gonna lift a finger. I might make a good wife someday.
EDITOR'S NOTE: It was wayyyy too hot to sleep last night, so I didn't get much and therefore the laundry and plates did not get washed. Oh well, it's currently raining so the clothes wouldn't have gotten dry regardless. I also managed to break the handle on my water bucket and also drop my neighbor's water bucket into the well. Didn't crash during mountain bike training so at least I'm not still batting .000
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