"Meera. You're crazy."

Well, I made it to Bertoua. I’ll have to get around to writing about the last day of training later, because the last days in Yaoundé were full. I pretty much packed myself up and took off the morning after training... so there was no time for writing, let alone thinking. If you want the basic overview of the third day, however, you can always check out Jade’s blag.

As I write this le soleil se couche, dark is coming and all the noises outside my little room seem to be getting louder. I’m looking forward to two things right now: if gchat ever loads I can talk to Jade and Eva and then eventual call from my parents later tonight. I don’t say this to ask for pity (unless you’re offering), because to today has been awesome, but it’s also my first night alone in Bertoua. I think when you’re in a new place you suddenly become hyper-aware of everything that goes around you. I hear shuffling outside and wonder if someone is coming towards my door. So I’m trying to distract myself, to reflect on the last two days and convince myself that everything really is as fine as I know that it must be.

Right? Right.

This is making me exhausted. I think I could fall asleep right now and it’s 6 pm.

Storytelling time.

Yesterday morning I was this wretched mix of excitement and nervousness. I’d amused the other two ETAs the night before by pacing back and forth and back and forth across the length of my hotel room—needing physical relief for the tension that was building up in my stomach. It felt that my goal of wearing the carpet down was something with which they could both empathize. Eva and I arrived in Yaoundé last Friday, Jade arrived on Sunday evening, and five days later I was the first one to be getting ready to leave a city that didn’t quite feel comfortable yet.

To give you all a little context, I only found out at I would have a place to sleep/live on Tuesday.

As Mignon has said to me multiple times, in a surprisingly affectionate manner, “Meera you’re crazy.” Methinks the woman doth speak sense.

At any rate, I was so excited on the trip to Bertoua that while Mignon and Gerald dozed I was up and looking out the window. (Truth-time: I was also fairly nauseous because of the doxycycline.) I wanted to see the hills change into rainforest. I wanted to see if, as we grew closer to Bertoua, whether I would see the savannah. The road, for the majority of the way, was paved. A smooth ride with what looked like fresh paint on the roads. This lasted up to the last, say, hour when the road changed to gravel and later red dirt. This is also when we started seeing huge trees loaded on trucks. I mean trees so large that there was one that had its own truck. It felt like FernGully had come to life. I’ll be on the lookout for Hexxus. (I’m sure he’s operating under the pseudonym of some company. It’s also probably their fault that the road from Yaoundé is so good.)

When those semis took the gravel and dirt part of the roads they kick up so much dust that they coat the trees with either white (gravel) or red (dirt) film. I took some photos of it that I can’t upload because the internet doesn’t work that way. Yet. I’m getting an internet box (even though it's kind of 'spensive) so I can télécharger.

We got into town, met up with Abbé Daniel Woung (the abbot I’ve been talking to for the past couple of weeks), Abbé Valère, Monseigneur Joseph Atanga, and Monseigneur Andre Krynski (he’s Polish and has been in Cameroon and off for the past thirty years). Abbés Daniel and Valère took us to a restaurant called le Bois D’Ebène (The Wood of Ebony) for lunch. There was python on the menu. I know. I’m going to have to try it, and Gerald told me viper too. The proprietress of the place, Édith, told me that she’d teach me how to cook! I promise not to return home until I can cook snake. (Side note: viper tastes like a delicious piece of fish according to Mgr. Krynski.)

Afterwards they took me to my new home, a one room apart with a bathroom that has hot water (!), a desk and a cabinet that locks, and a queen sized bed with sheets. There are also lots of crosses and pictures of Jesus, so it’s decorated. It is on what will be, starting October 25^th, the campus for the School of Business—which is across town from the rest of the University. It also means that there is construction happening, so Mignon and I walked into the lot and the place was full of men. Père Daniel assured us that my neighbors would all be good, religious women, but at that moment there were no neighbors to introduce me to. I appear, as of today, to be the only person living on the campus (though I do live right behind the Rector, Mgr. Atanga). 

Mignon basically gave me the out to spend the night in her hotel room, which I took instantly. It was just…after a day of traveling to suddenly be dropped at an apartment in a strange place with all these strange men right before it was going to be dark was almost too much. Mignon bought me a big flashlight (‘that you could hit someone with’) as my ‘housewarming present.’ I told her about the man-killer Mary, I think you two would get on.

Today we met Abbé Daniel at the bank SGBC (where I found out that I can withdraw money!) and he took me to the campus. There I met Maman Sophie, who runs the kitchen on campus, and was introduced to some of my students. They seemed very nice. They were also eating bush meat in the form of monkey. Mamam Sophie told me that I should try a little, eventually, and see how it makes me feel. I feel like I can’t not, you know?

I also asked Maman Sophie about artists in the area, and she has a friend who makes jewelry. (There are also Senegalese people who own bijouteries (jewelry stores) that sell reasonably priced gold jewelry--also according to Mgr. Krynski.) Maman told me she’d talk to her friend who is a metal smith in the Artisanal Center, which is on the western part of town. I’m already making connections for you, Sara and Casey, and it’s only the first day! She said they’d be very interested in meeting some American jewelry artists. More data forthcoming.

After that Mgr. Krynski skipped class to take me to meet up with the two Peace Corps Volunteers stationed in Bertoua. Patricia works with M. Emmanuel, le chef of a microfinance corporation (!!!) and Grace teaches English two hours a week at a primary (I think) school. When I finally get around to buying credit (which I blew on an awesome call with Eva and Jade last night) I should ask her if she wants to help me with my tasks.

I am starting, this Monday, by working out how to evaluate the students for two levels of English in two different courses. (Thank all the gods for you Jen.) Every Friday I’ll be working with a professor teaching two classes (one from 8-12 and the other from 2:30-4). Then I’ve also been asked to run or work with (my choice) two clubs one on English and one on the United States. So I’ve got plenty to do if Grace wants to help me out.

I had lunch  at Mgr. Krynski’s house today. It consisted of soup (made out of melon—really good) with fresh parsley, a SALAD with yogurt dressing, fish, vegetables and finishing with wild grapefruit. Heaaavennnnnn. Well I am working at a Catholic university, I shouldn’t expect any less. I also met Raoul, who lives in the same house with Mgr. Krynski, and is the head accountant. Mgr. gave me an herb, grown in German monastery, which had been show that it helped guard against paludisme (malaria), so I took a bit. I made the joke that this herb was sweet, to which Raoul had to ask if it really was sweet. (For the record it wasn't, but still infinitely more pleasant than doxycycline.) 

Mgr. had to go teach a class after lunch, so Raoul took me downtown to get one of the USB drives that let you access the internet, and then dropped me back off at my new house. I wasn’t so nervous coming back to this place, and now I have tasks to do, like preparing for class on Monday. I hope you’ve noticed, because I certainly have, the calming/cathartic effect that this post has had on my general outlook on life. I think I’m ready to post this, start unpacking and find a place where I can hang my mosquito net.

Kisses & Misses, M