28 Sept 2006
The only way to describe my life, I think, is in particular anecdotes.Take yesterday.
(at this writing, have not slept in about 40 some-odd hours. take note)
Got up around 6:30 with the neighbors chopping wood (ususally it's at 6, so this was a bonus). Had a leisurely breakfast with the cat for company. Got dressed in my 'brousse' clothes (there are a lot of clothes relegated to that status, now) and set off to "work" with my hoe in hand. (Not the machete, this jeudi propre). For the next 2 hours, along with tall the hospital personnel - nurses, lab techs, the doctor, etc - I helped to clear the field we're using as a soy demonstration plot. As the lowest skilled membre of the team (when it comes to farm work), I got to clear brush for most of the time, though I did end up tilling with my trusty hoe. After two hours, thoroughly covered in dirt (which actually shows on me), I went home to shower and really get ready for "work." Work consisted of a few hours of action planning with the doctor, on STIs/AIDS, Malaria, Tuberculosis, Water and Hygiene....etc. As he said to me about a week ago, "Mvangan has been declared a district BAD!" "But what did we DO?"
BAD = Banque Africaine du Developpement, and they're funding us, apparently, specifically to do formations/in-services on topics related to family planning.
So all week we've been working on very detailed action plans on every possible topic in the district. Most with objectives of "by December 2007..." funny, cause, that's when I leave. Sortof like i'm writing out my own legacy, or my plans for one. And if we even do half of what we've set out to do, it will be pretty wonderful.
So, the power's been out in Mvangan for the past month. The action plan needs to be typed for BAD. We wrote everything by hand, with the plan to take our computer to the Catholic Mission hospital, Bimengue, 7 km away - they have a generator and it's on every night.
Sunday. We did this. And forgot to take our power strip which adapts to all plugs. Well apparently (we hadn't realized) we have an American plug monitor. And Bimengue, funded by Italians, has Italian plugs.
So, no dice.
Every subsequent night it was raining too hard to drive over there - and - the road is quite a walk from the hospital, with a computer...
Doc knew I was leaving Friday morning and we had to finish. So he proposed we go over THursday around 4 pm, ask them to turn the generator on early (it's usally at 6 pm), and work until we finished. We did go then, and luckily, because it was the only time all day that it wasn't raining. (In case it's not yet clear, it's rainy season now).
At the hospital, we found Desiree, one of the volunteer nurses at the District Hospital - in labor with her 5th child. She'd been in labor since early that morning, and it wasn't progressing very fast. Her husband is a nurse at Bimengue. As the Doc examined her, I entertained their 3-year-old daughter, Brenda...until he power returned and I tried to distract her with the very Western game of "draw me a picture." No dice.
At any rate, power comes on at 6:30, Doc and I set up the computer and begin to work on our 35 page (now) plan, while he periodically checks on Desi. The action plan, in very complicated tables I've only learned how to format here, details reproductive health, maternal and infant health, maternity at lower risk, vaccination programs, STIs/AIDS, family planning, primary care, malaria, tuberculosis, nutrition, water and hygiene, and pharmacy management. If we actually do half of this, this year....anyway.
We worked until 10, me enertaining Brenda/writing, the Doc checking on Desi/writing and brainstorming with me (we'd already written a draft of the plan, longhand), the other nurses running around...and labor not progressing. The child, by estimates, looked to be over 10 lbs.
Around 10 pm, the head nurse of Bimengue brought dinner for he "night crew" assembled. I didn't know it at the time, but we got special provisions of extra generator time due to the impending delivery (it usually goes off at 9).
So, 11 pm, Doc decides it's time to do an emergency C-section. The nurses are assembled and scrub in. And I...leaving my typing duties to my medical curiosity...follow, put on scrubs, and stand, fascinated, as the procedure is readied. Desi's husband also scrubbed in...able to work? On hand, anyway.
I'd been warned before...real-life, movies...that this was a fast procedure.
And yes, it was fast.
But the baby had already descended pretty far down in the birth canal, so it was work to bring him back up. Fast. Handed over to two other nurses, ready for reanimation.
One minute. Two minutes. Shaking him, suctioning his nostrils, doing mouth-to-mouth, shaking him upside down...
In the third minute, he cried.
And I started breathing again.
As the long, complicated closing procedure began, I followed the nurses with the infant. They weighed him, washed him, clothed him, and then, completely unsterile, I walked the floor with him in my arms. I tried to introduce him to his big sister, but she wasn't impressed.
The operation was finished at 1:15 am, with the action plan duly (almost) finished. Doc and I demounted the compuer, packed it in the car, and drove back to Mvangan. 1:45. We woke up the pharmacist to write a command for HIV tests for me to take to Ebolowa the next day, in preparation of AIDS week (Oct 16-21). 2 am, I'm home, finished packing. 2:30, the car arrives, and I leave for Ebolowa. ...to then go to Yaounde, arrive after running errands all morning in Ebolowa, and get straight to work preparing for the arrival of 30 new trainees.
The next evening, back at the airport. 365 days later, waiting for a new group.
African time.
As this is almost a month old, now, more to come soon.
21 November 2006
21 August 2006
Not going anywhere for awhile?
le 27 juillet
(grab a Snickers). American marketing is truly amazing. As are American pens (just went to my writing utensils bag to discover it...almost empty? Is this a quasi-veiled plug "please send me pens"? Yes).
I cannot count the number ot times that slogan has flashed across my eyes. Waiting for a bus, waiting on the side of the road for a bus to be fixed, waiting for a meeting to start...waiting. My IPOD has enlivened such times, as have the less-modern books and magazines, but I've gotten amazingly good at staring into space, thinking of nothing, and making the hours *fly* by.
And I've gained an appreciation for Snickers, rare as they are. Nothing like a cold Snickers and a cold COca Light from Deli in Ebolowa...oh, this letter will NOT be solely a product placement. But I do miss products.
Today...I grabbed a banana. This was during a water source/soy bean growing (longer story) meeting in Zoebefam. The meeting had erupted into a 30 minute long high-pitched brawl in Bulu, over the creation of subcommittees within the main committee. (which I mostly understood! victory!)
I wrote the silent scream in red pen on my banana peeel. (For those unfamiliar with my away messages of years past, the silent scream is a -silent- expression of utter frustration during which I channel Munch's painting of same title). I wish you could frame banana peels.
This is when I started yelling at the villagers. "The ONLY IMPORTANT THING is getting potable water for the entire village; the rest is just DETAILS!" Everyone agreed with me, but. Cameroon's culture (damn colonizers? maybe) is thoroughly entrenched in bureaucracy. You can't have a club, a meeting without officers and *titles* for everone else. People like titles. They collect them, like....like away messages on banana peels (I wish). And often, the title is just as empty as the banana's torn skin. In Mvangan, one person (I've been particularly angry with him lately) has been president of the local AIDS committee, community relay for malaria, community impregnator of mosquito nets, and now president of the COSA (health committee, made of community members, runs the hospital). What has he done? Absolutely nothing. NO need to rant now on how I *don't* understand the culture/mentality of continually appointing/electing people to positions when they have shown no evidence of work yet lots of stealing money. (Will PC shut me down for this? Hmm. Dev, please post a disclaimer "does not represent the views of the US Peace Corps." thanks ;) Oh, "not" being a government employee.
The meeting ended amicably with me responding to requests I stay for palm wine with "ma wo'en!" (I'm tired). Left the house at 1:30 pm, left Zoe at...6. The letter Paul had sent informing people of the meeting had only reached some, so we spent 2 hours visiting every house in the village, while he also gave me a deeper look at village social politics. (Have I mentioned he's my erstwhile counterpart- for this and other - and is the head of the lab at the District Hospital of Mvangan? Ok). (It's his village).
Still haven't written in the post book- dammit. Maybe I'll print these for the PCV in Mvangan 07-09. Oy.
Today was also jeudi propre (see previous), so by 7:30 I was at the hospital with my (dirty) hoe. An hour and a half. And only 3 of us working.
Today is also July 27, which marks one year since I got my letter of placement from Peace Corps. One year since I started thinking about Cameroon, talking about it, wearing it on T-shirts...and now, and now, it's truly home.
A word on "motivation." In French, it's an exact cognate with the English word. In fact, the word is Franch. In Cameroon...it means money. Apparently staff didn't receive "motivation" the last jeudi propre, from the Doc's own pocket, as he's done other times (we're talking 300 F CFA here - 60 cents - to buy beignets). So, most people were en grève today. ANd I'm currently baking banan bread because there have already been complaints that my formation on nutrition/malnutrition (in-service - tomorrow, was going to be today) included no "motivation" or "pause café" (coffee and pastries...which I'll admit was a highlight of those early days of PC in Yaoundé. STILL).
Apple Foster's Clark is amazing, ps. The more "cosmopolitan" PCVs had tried this long ago, but I just found it in Mvangan. (product placement! I can't hide the country of my rearing)
The formation wasn't today because Laure, one of my favorite district nurses, from Nselang, showed up with a case of PFA - paralysie Flaxe aigue, or, in short, suspected polio. In national (and WHO) policy, one case equals an epidemic, in terms of response. (At the time of this writing...well I thought I'd know but I don't know yet. So). I'm not revealing anything the govts of Cameroon, France, Congo, and WHO don't already know - stool samples were rushed to the Centre Pasteur in Yaounde Friday for confirmation, then to Brazzaville, then Paris. The Doc hurriedly explained all this to me this morning as he waited for the child (23 months) to arrive. Everyone was busy, and my medical curiosity got me - I wanted to see the exam (and I did). Nigeria doesn't vaccinate for polio, at least in some states, and thus endangers all of West and Central Africa. It's *almost* eradicated here. But there have been cases, often of transmission by way of Nigeria. ANd this - well. I've seen a lot of adult/teenage polio victims, but since they started every child campaigns...
Nutrition. Reading through myriad textbooks, I realize I've SEEN pellagra (vit B3/niacin deficiency), rickets (vit D/calcium deficiency), vit A deficiency, kwashiorkor...this in the rainforest where food grows to fulfill every need and children should not be suffering diseases cause by insufficient sunlight (rickets). There is a meeting of all the traditional chiefs of the arrondissementon Saturday. The Chef (mine, of Mvangan village) has asked me to attend, to take pictures (*3 things I'm not - English teacher, computer teacher, photographer, oh wait...) I'm hoping to use the opportunity to talk about health - all the services at the hospital and especially those that are free.
...finally, I'm doing something that feels like *something*...maybe.
The cat is boycotting dinner. There's something to be said for turning into your mother (eep, father, in this instance). Yelling at a feline "I don't CARE if you'd rather have Friskies, tonight is sardines! That's what's for dinner and you're going to eat it!" Well, she can go hunt, unlike myself at a young age.
NO snakes or other reptiles of note, indoors. Though in the last bush taxi I took, there was apparently a live viper among someone's luggage...the chargeurs put a swift, machete end to that, mid-voyage.
...and for this installment, that's all she wrote.
(grab a Snickers). American marketing is truly amazing. As are American pens (just went to my writing utensils bag to discover it...almost empty? Is this a quasi-veiled plug "please send me pens"? Yes).
I cannot count the number ot times that slogan has flashed across my eyes. Waiting for a bus, waiting on the side of the road for a bus to be fixed, waiting for a meeting to start...waiting. My IPOD has enlivened such times, as have the less-modern books and magazines, but I've gotten amazingly good at staring into space, thinking of nothing, and making the hours *fly* by.
And I've gained an appreciation for Snickers, rare as they are. Nothing like a cold Snickers and a cold COca Light from Deli in Ebolowa...oh, this letter will NOT be solely a product placement. But I do miss products.
Today...I grabbed a banana. This was during a water source/soy bean growing (longer story) meeting in Zoebefam. The meeting had erupted into a 30 minute long high-pitched brawl in Bulu, over the creation of subcommittees within the main committee. (which I mostly understood! victory!)
I wrote the silent scream in red pen on my banana peeel. (For those unfamiliar with my away messages of years past, the silent scream is a -silent- expression of utter frustration during which I channel Munch's painting of same title). I wish you could frame banana peels.
This is when I started yelling at the villagers. "The ONLY IMPORTANT THING is getting potable water for the entire village; the rest is just DETAILS!" Everyone agreed with me, but. Cameroon's culture (damn colonizers? maybe) is thoroughly entrenched in bureaucracy. You can't have a club, a meeting without officers and *titles* for everone else. People like titles. They collect them, like....like away messages on banana peels (I wish). And often, the title is just as empty as the banana's torn skin. In Mvangan, one person (I've been particularly angry with him lately) has been president of the local AIDS committee, community relay for malaria, community impregnator of mosquito nets, and now president of the COSA (health committee, made of community members, runs the hospital). What has he done? Absolutely nothing. NO need to rant now on how I *don't* understand the culture/mentality of continually appointing/electing people to positions when they have shown no evidence of work yet lots of stealing money. (Will PC shut me down for this? Hmm. Dev, please post a disclaimer "does not represent the views of the US Peace Corps." thanks ;) Oh, "not" being a government employee.
The meeting ended amicably with me responding to requests I stay for palm wine with "ma wo'en!" (I'm tired). Left the house at 1:30 pm, left Zoe at...6. The letter Paul had sent informing people of the meeting had only reached some, so we spent 2 hours visiting every house in the village, while he also gave me a deeper look at village social politics. (Have I mentioned he's my erstwhile counterpart- for this and other - and is the head of the lab at the District Hospital of Mvangan? Ok). (It's his village).
Still haven't written in the post book- dammit. Maybe I'll print these for the PCV in Mvangan 07-09. Oy.
Today was also jeudi propre (see previous), so by 7:30 I was at the hospital with my (dirty) hoe. An hour and a half. And only 3 of us working.
Today is also July 27, which marks one year since I got my letter of placement from Peace Corps. One year since I started thinking about Cameroon, talking about it, wearing it on T-shirts...and now, and now, it's truly home.
A word on "motivation." In French, it's an exact cognate with the English word. In fact, the word is Franch. In Cameroon...it means money. Apparently staff didn't receive "motivation" the last jeudi propre, from the Doc's own pocket, as he's done other times (we're talking 300 F CFA here - 60 cents - to buy beignets). So, most people were en grève today. ANd I'm currently baking banan bread because there have already been complaints that my formation on nutrition/malnutrition (in-service - tomorrow, was going to be today) included no "motivation" or "pause café" (coffee and pastries...which I'll admit was a highlight of those early days of PC in Yaoundé. STILL).
Apple Foster's Clark is amazing, ps. The more "cosmopolitan" PCVs had tried this long ago, but I just found it in Mvangan. (product placement! I can't hide the country of my rearing)
The formation wasn't today because Laure, one of my favorite district nurses, from Nselang, showed up with a case of PFA - paralysie Flaxe aigue, or, in short, suspected polio. In national (and WHO) policy, one case equals an epidemic, in terms of response. (At the time of this writing...well I thought I'd know but I don't know yet. So). I'm not revealing anything the govts of Cameroon, France, Congo, and WHO don't already know - stool samples were rushed to the Centre Pasteur in Yaounde Friday for confirmation, then to Brazzaville, then Paris. The Doc hurriedly explained all this to me this morning as he waited for the child (23 months) to arrive. Everyone was busy, and my medical curiosity got me - I wanted to see the exam (and I did). Nigeria doesn't vaccinate for polio, at least in some states, and thus endangers all of West and Central Africa. It's *almost* eradicated here. But there have been cases, often of transmission by way of Nigeria. ANd this - well. I've seen a lot of adult/teenage polio victims, but since they started every child campaigns...
Nutrition. Reading through myriad textbooks, I realize I've SEEN pellagra (vit B3/niacin deficiency), rickets (vit D/calcium deficiency), vit A deficiency, kwashiorkor...this in the rainforest where food grows to fulfill every need and children should not be suffering diseases cause by insufficient sunlight (rickets). There is a meeting of all the traditional chiefs of the arrondissementon Saturday. The Chef (mine, of Mvangan village) has asked me to attend, to take pictures (*3 things I'm not - English teacher, computer teacher, photographer, oh wait...) I'm hoping to use the opportunity to talk about health - all the services at the hospital and especially those that are free.
...finally, I'm doing something that feels like *something*...maybe.
The cat is boycotting dinner. There's something to be said for turning into your mother (eep, father, in this instance). Yelling at a feline "I don't CARE if you'd rather have Friskies, tonight is sardines! That's what's for dinner and you're going to eat it!" Well, she can go hunt, unlike myself at a young age.
NO snakes or other reptiles of note, indoors. Though in the last bush taxi I took, there was apparently a live viper among someone's luggage...the chargeurs put a swift, machete end to that, mid-voyage.
...and for this installment, that's all she wrote.
18 July 2006
Compendium
e 1 juillet 2006
And for once I write this real-time. As you're reading, France may
have claimed victory over Brazil...or not...I don't care, I'm still
riding high on Tuesday's beautiful match against Spain. Nationalisic
pride.
(**edit, 16 July 2006 - so France lost to Italy in penalty kicks, and Zizou lost control of his head (literally). I'm still exuberantly proud of the matches vs. Spain, Brazil, and Portugal. Vive la France!)
Months march on without regard to days. Travel could be a part of
that. And...no more snakes.
Last week was a PC collaboration in Makak (yes). The PCV there
held a sports camp for 35 kids, ages 10-18ish, and the South, ever
eager for work, went to help. It's a curriculum, Sports for Life,
that uses soccer (*real* football) o teach about HIV/AIDS -
transmission, prevention, goal-setting, stigmatisation, etc, etc.
Then every afternoon there was a match. ..The week was good, hard, exhausting, frustrating, and rewarding. And I will write more but I've completely lost that train of thought.
Le 14 juillet 2006
Afternoon of indulgence and one froisséd piece of paper. Three errands – strike 2 – and enough deranging to make me want to start elbowing the men who touch me. Basta.
Off to the salon de thé (dit "la France") where I bought Skittles (but there are NO M&Ms in this country), Trix, cat food, and pears. Now for lemonade (1500) and a crèpe (vive la France!) On my own national holiday – in honor of which I decided to go register to vote – I forgot that the Embassy would, of course, be closed.
Middle American family one table over – mom, dad, 3 kids – missionaries?
Yaoundé needs to be more than grocery stores and DVDs. A lot of work accomplished ce matin, though – starting at 7:30 am. Yesterday, 6:30.
The waitresses here are dressed much like they would be at Sonic (took me 15 minutes to remember the name).
Waiters are wearing bow ties and black vests. Amazing fresh lemonade. Everything fresh here – we made hummus, tabouleh, salsa, and tortillas last night.
In the States, will I go back to buying tortillas, pita, salsa, guacamole, hummus…well, it's cheaper. Here I can get a few avocadoes for 100F (20 cents).
There – well. People tell me sodas are better here – real cane sugar, as opposed to high fructose corn syrup – but I don't remember.
Anecdote, appropriate. A PCV friend recently went to Paris (where she incidentally saw my aunt). In a nice restaurant, she ate fish with her hands (it makes so much more sense! Can't go back) and spit the bones on the floor.
PCVs aren't uncouth, we're just…integrated.
This family could be at Denny's. It's weird.
Saw the new PCTs yesterday. So young (ok most older than me, but young in Cameroon terms), fresh, enthusiastic. And
clean. They are also Ed/SED, or PCVs with "jobs."
This might be the best club I've ever joined (PC, then RPCVs).
A list of observations, as I'm not
pose enough to write linear narrative.
-
gas here is the equivalent price in USD. Now compare average Cameroonian salary to average US salary.
Now imagine gas costing $20, $25 /gallon. Taximen turn the engine off when doing downhill.
-
World Cup/Olympics should be in a developing country. This was discussed last night, and I think it's intriguing.
Outside sponsors would be needed. But it would force corrupt governments to improve (create?) infrastructure, roads, electricity, water, etc. It would help the economy and boost tourism.
And make the 3rd world more part of the world. And Cameroon has mountains, rivers, ocean..
South Africa is hosting the 2010 World Cup (to which I was invited by one of my neighbors) but we here in PC Cam mockingly refer to South Africa as "the Western world."
There is Peace – harder – Corps than this. But not by very much.
Need to buy a phone card sometime. It gets tiring to be contactable.
The 15-year-old daughter of a family I know well is pregnant. I found out a month ago from a list of absences/pregnancies posted outside the lycée—I was afraid to go see her to confirm it.
And it's true, it's true. I don't know how she managed to –not- show in her tight jeans and shirts (she's beautiful and she knows it. This is something I've feared happening for awhile.
In the States would I hate myself for assuming that someone's appearance could cast aspersions on their behavior? Maybe. But here, there seems to be more truth to that.
And the consequences are a hell of a lot more dire). She's huge now. Her mom – a colleague of mine at the hospital, said she's taught her to calculate her cycle.
She brings home condoms and has taught her how to use them. And yet.
She – the daughter – is smart, dynamic, and eloquent. She recited a poem about SIDA (AIDS) at the fête de la jeunesse, in February (was she pregnant even then? Maybe).
I just got undercharged by 1500 for the first time in my life here (undercharged). Happy Bastille Day, indeed. The manager/owner – Greek guy – just came over and asked me for suggestions, how I liked the place, what he could change, do better, etc. Did he come talk to me because I'm young, white, and female (and alone)? Yes. Did he reduce the price? Wondering. Ahh…Greeks in Cameroon. There are a lot, for some reason.
And for once I write this real-time. As you're reading, France may
have claimed victory over Brazil...or not...I don't care, I'm still
riding high on Tuesday's beautiful match against Spain. Nationalisic
pride.
(**edit, 16 July 2006 - so France lost to Italy in penalty kicks, and Zizou lost control of his head (literally). I'm still exuberantly proud of the matches vs. Spain, Brazil, and Portugal. Vive la France!)
Months march on without regard to days. Travel could be a part of
that. And...no more snakes.
Last week was a PC collaboration in Makak (yes). The PCV there
held a sports camp for 35 kids, ages 10-18ish, and the South, ever
eager for work, went to help. It's a curriculum, Sports for Life,
that uses soccer (*real* football) o teach about HIV/AIDS -
transmission, prevention, goal-setting, stigmatisation, etc, etc.
Then every afternoon there was a match. ..The week was good, hard, exhausting, frustrating, and rewarding. And I will write more but I've completely lost that train of thought.
Le 14 juillet 2006
Afternoon of indulgence and one froisséd piece of paper. Three errands – strike 2 – and enough deranging to make me want to start elbowing the men who touch me. Basta.
Off to the salon de thé (dit "la France") where I bought Skittles (but there are NO M&Ms in this country), Trix, cat food, and pears. Now for lemonade (1500) and a crèpe (vive la France!) On my own national holiday – in honor of which I decided to go register to vote – I forgot that the Embassy would, of course, be closed.
Middle American family one table over – mom, dad, 3 kids – missionaries?
Yaoundé needs to be more than grocery stores and DVDs. A lot of work accomplished ce matin, though – starting at 7:30 am. Yesterday, 6:30.
The waitresses here are dressed much like they would be at Sonic (took me 15 minutes to remember the name).
Waiters are wearing bow ties and black vests. Amazing fresh lemonade. Everything fresh here – we made hummus, tabouleh, salsa, and tortillas last night.
In the States, will I go back to buying tortillas, pita, salsa, guacamole, hummus…well, it's cheaper. Here I can get a few avocadoes for 100F (20 cents).
There – well. People tell me sodas are better here – real cane sugar, as opposed to high fructose corn syrup – but I don't remember.
Anecdote, appropriate. A PCV friend recently went to Paris (where she incidentally saw my aunt). In a nice restaurant, she ate fish with her hands (it makes so much more sense! Can't go back) and spit the bones on the floor.
PCVs aren't uncouth, we're just…integrated.
This family could be at Denny's. It's weird.
Saw the new PCTs yesterday. So young (ok most older than me, but young in Cameroon terms), fresh, enthusiastic. And
clean. They are also Ed/SED, or PCVs with "jobs."
This might be the best club I've ever joined (PC, then RPCVs).
A list of observations, as I'm not
pose enough to write linear narrative.
-
gas here is the equivalent price in USD. Now compare average Cameroonian salary to average US salary.
Now imagine gas costing $20, $25 /gallon. Taximen turn the engine off when doing downhill.
-
World Cup/Olympics should be in a developing country. This was discussed last night, and I think it's intriguing.
Outside sponsors would be needed. But it would force corrupt governments to improve (create?) infrastructure, roads, electricity, water, etc. It would help the economy and boost tourism.
And make the 3rd world more part of the world. And Cameroon has mountains, rivers, ocean..
South Africa is hosting the 2010 World Cup (to which I was invited by one of my neighbors) but we here in PC Cam mockingly refer to South Africa as "the Western world."
There is Peace – harder – Corps than this. But not by very much.
Need to buy a phone card sometime. It gets tiring to be contactable.
The 15-year-old daughter of a family I know well is pregnant. I found out a month ago from a list of absences/pregnancies posted outside the lycée—I was afraid to go see her to confirm it.
And it's true, it's true. I don't know how she managed to –not- show in her tight jeans and shirts (she's beautiful and she knows it. This is something I've feared happening for awhile.
In the States would I hate myself for assuming that someone's appearance could cast aspersions on their behavior? Maybe. But here, there seems to be more truth to that.
And the consequences are a hell of a lot more dire). She's huge now. Her mom – a colleague of mine at the hospital, said she's taught her to calculate her cycle.
She brings home condoms and has taught her how to use them. And yet.
She – the daughter – is smart, dynamic, and eloquent. She recited a poem about SIDA (AIDS) at the fête de la jeunesse, in February (was she pregnant even then? Maybe).
I just got undercharged by 1500 for the first time in my life here (undercharged). Happy Bastille Day, indeed. The manager/owner – Greek guy – just came over and asked me for suggestions, how I liked the place, what he could change, do better, etc. Did he come talk to me because I'm young, white, and female (and alone)? Yes. Did he reduce the price? Wondering. Ahh…Greeks in Cameroon. There are a lot, for some reason.
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