tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82020681472759361232024-03-12T22:20:12.405-07:00Corps de la Paix- CamerounKaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-75851204115263620462012-07-26T20:41:00.000-07:002012-07-26T20:41:12.415-07:00Goodbye Banyo<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Well yesterday moring was it, I officially left Banyo. Said goodbye to all my friends, my cat, my postmate, my house and Banyo. And of course my last trip out had to be memorable, so it took us a good 12 hours to get to Bafoussam with most of the passengers covered in mud from pushing/pulling. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am really going to miss Banyo. I couldn't have asked to live in a better town and I hope that I will have the chance to come back one day. </span>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-9422555671211161462012-07-15T04:41:00.002-07:002012-07-15T04:41:53.638-07:00The Stages of Readjustment<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">What is the returned Volunteer to do ?
It helps, of course, to know that readjustment is coming ; you may still
be thrown by the experience, but you’ll get up quicker. It can also help to
know how it evolves. For most Volunteers, readjustment unfolds in three distinct
stages.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The first stage is a period of great
excitement and joy, when you’re thrilled to see everyone and they’re thrilled
to see you. Typically, you spend this period traveling around visiting
relatives and friends, being welcomed enthusiastically wherever you go. For the
moment you are a kind of hero, and because you don’t stay too long in any one
place, no one tires of your tales. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This period is followed, a month or
so later, by the second stage. This is when people really do have to get on
with their lives and, no offense, but shouldn’t you be doing the same? This is
the stage the average returned Volunteer isn’t ready for. During this period, you
will run up huge phone bills calling other RPCVs, spend many waking hours
hating and refusing to adjust to America and scheming madly to get back
overseas. You will actively resist adjustment, fearful that it will somehow
cheapen and diminish all that has happened to you. </span><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">An RPCV from Costa Rica observes: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m afraid I
may be becoming readjusted. </span><span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Readjusted
would take me back to what i was before. I think of it as being back in the mainstream
grind. I want life to be slower paced. It helps me remember what I lived like
overseas. </span><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I don’t think I’ll
ever totally readjust. I hope I don’t. <o:p></o:p></span></blockquote>
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<span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In the third stage, you beging to
make your peace with being at home. You find work or go back to school or
continue with your retirement activities. You meet interest, decent people, who
oddly enough, were never in the Peace Corps. You identify as much with the
present and the future as with the past. You’re even starting to become a bit
more objective – about America and about your overseas country. You see that
carving out a new life for yourself back home doesn’t have to mean that the Peace
Corps never happened. <o:p></o:p></span></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-38209145893819868802012-07-13T06:52:00.003-07:002012-07-13T06:52:50.614-07:00A Face in the Crowd<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Another frustrating dimension of adjustment is the sudden
return to anonymity. While Volunteers often complain about living in a fishbowl
overseas, they nevertheless enjoy being the center of attention and interest.
It makes them feel special, even important. Speaking the local language, for
example, makes celebrities – even heroes – out of Volunteers, as does, say,
being the first American to teach at the King Hassan II elementary school or to
ride the local bus from Song Kwah to Phu Banh. Now, suddenly, no one looks up
when you enter a room or squeals with delight when you start speaking in
Kiswahili. No one is impressed that you speak English, and your every move has
more of less the same novelty value as everyone else’s every move. You aren’t
special anymore – and you miss it. “[Overseas I had] a feeling of empowerment,
having a lot of influence,” a Volunteer form Swaziland remembers. “Coming back,
it was weird to fall back into the role of just another Joe.”</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In his book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">An Area of
Darkness</i>, V.S. Naipaul, who was born and raised in Trinidad of Indian
parents, remembers the first time he visit India, after living in countries
where he had always stood out because of his appearance. The feeling he
describes will sound familiar to many returned Volunteers: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">[Now] I was one of the crowd. In Trinidad to be an Indian
was to be distinctive; in Egypt it was more so. Now in Bombay I entered a shop
or a restaurant and awaited a special quality of response. And there was
nothing. It was like being denied a part of my reality. I was faceless. I might
sink without a trace into the Indian crowd…Recognition of my difference was
necessary to me. I felt the need to impose myself, and didn’t know how. </span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It'll go from situations like this where I'm pretty easy to pick out ... </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnzebHOEjfcmnIA0SO_bJvd_lyeS2cTsogRcgpB-yCS1e9MycYmCbuIpfG7m8ZaGyKXRXzdVFrnKEntiUo6SJjtjJcAEhfNnyErsi-y4hoobOr0qbD7vlN_XRcIA3Y1FW35BlWMDRIbZhm/s1600/z1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnzebHOEjfcmnIA0SO_bJvd_lyeS2cTsogRcgpB-yCS1e9MycYmCbuIpfG7m8ZaGyKXRXzdVFrnKEntiUo6SJjtjJcAEhfNnyErsi-y4hoobOr0qbD7vlN_XRcIA3Y1FW35BlWMDRIbZhm/s320/z1.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">To situations like this where it takes some time to even pick one out</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-17216268350691881522012-07-12T11:07:00.001-07:002012-07-12T11:07:19.454-07:00How Nice<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Your self-esteem isn’t helped when no one seems especially
interested in what you’ve been doing for the last two years. You have just gone
through what may be the seminal experience of your life – an experience which
has transformed your view of the world and of your own country – and yet your
family and friends somehow aren’t bowled over. You have so much to explain, but
alas, their capacity to absorb is not nearly matched by your need to
recapitulate; they’re filled up before you’re even half empty. Martha Gellhorn
writes in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Travels With Myself and
Another: <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Upon your return, no one willingly listens to our travelers’
tales. “How was the trip?” they say. “Marvelous,” we say. “In Tbilsi, I saw…”
Eyes glaze. AS soon as politeness permits or before, conversation is switched
back to local news, such as gossip, the current political outrage, who’s read
what, last night’s telly;</span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“When someone asks you about your experience,” a Volunteer
from Cameroon observes, “give them five minutes and then shut up.”"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-28810730534653747872012-07-05T15:12:00.000-07:002012-07-05T15:12:31.933-07:00The Notion of Home<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“The trouble with coming home is that you don’t expect it to
be difficult at least not in the way you expected Mali, or Turkmenistan or
Guatemala to be difficult. These were exotic ‘foreign’ places, after all, and
the whole point about foreign is that it’s bound to take some adjustment. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But home is the antithesis of foreign, it’s the other
extreme. Among other things, it represents the known, the familiar, the place
where you know how to act. Surely no one needs to prepare you for
diarrhea-proof ice cream, air-conditioned theaters, and the luxury of speaking
English wherever you go. In short, whatever applies to foreign by definition
does not apply to home. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is all true except that in most sense of the word –
including all those just mentioned above- the place you call home is now, in
fact, a foreign country. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The problem, then has to do with this word ‘home’ and what
it really means. In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Art of Coming
Home, </i>Craig Storti writes: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In the sense that
home is the place where you were born and raised, where people speak your native
language and behave more or less the way you do – what we might call your home
land<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and your home culture- then
it is indeed home that awaits you as you step off the jumbo jet. If<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>you should happen to think of home only in
this limited sense and expect nothing more of it,then the place you return to will not disappoint you.</span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But
this is not what most people mean by home – which is where all the trouble
starts. Most people use the word in a
more profound sense, referring to a set of feelings and routines as<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>much as to a particular place. In this
formulation, home is the place where you are known and<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>trusted and where you know and trust others; where you are
accepted, understood, indulged,<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and
forgiven; a place of rituals and routine interactions; of entirely predictable
events and<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>people and very few
surprises; the place where you belong and feel safe and secure and where<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>you can accordingly trust your
instincts, relax, and be yourself. It is, in short, the place where<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>you feel ‘at home.’</span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This
is a much broader definition, of course, though much closer to what most people
expect and require of home. Needless to
say it is also a much higher standard by which to measure the place you have returned to – a standard,
in fact, that any such place cannot possibly meet. As we will see, <i>this very
realization, that home is really not home, is at the core of the experience of reentry</i>.</span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">….. Of course, neither the place where you left off nor the
person who went overseas exists anymore. Transitions, even when they’re
expected, can be troublesome. When they’re not expected, they can be genuinely
debilitating.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-72991673826764128462012-07-03T14:41:00.001-07:002012-07-05T15:16:09.569-07:00Chapter Seven: Coming Home<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">During my move to my new house, I discovered all sorts of stuff
I never really realized I had. One such item was a booklet about the
adjustments volunteers may have to make during their service. I vaguely
remember having received the booklet in my invitation packet months before I even
left America. It wasn’t one that really stood out or that I particularly even
read that much. However this time, when I opened it up and began reading (and
began with chapter seven as that’s the stage I’m at in my service) I couldn’t
believe how much the content applied to me. Not to be cheesey, but it was like
finding a friend who completely understood all the thoughts going on in my
head. So in my last month here, rather than splashing personal random thoughts
in an attempt to express everything going on, I am going to just share the
entries of this last chapter (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">with possibly a few comments of my own in between in blue</span>)
as I feel they come about as close as possible to capturing all the thoughts going
on right now. So let’s begin reading…. (this first part is short, just the
intro)*</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“As frustrating and challenging as it is to be a Peace Corps
Volunteer, many Volunteers will tell you it’s even harder to be a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">former</i> Peace Corps Volunteer. It can be
as hard to leave the Peace Corps, it seems, as it is to be in it (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">or harder
I think…</span>). As one returned Volunteer from South America wrote, ‘My problem is I’m
23 years old and I’ve already had the experience of a lifetime’” </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">*<i>A few minor adjustments</i> is the title of the booklet I am pulling passages from for the next month. </span></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-4602164357903526672012-06-04T12:08:00.002-07:002012-06-04T12:08:45.070-07:002 years done, 2 months left<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today officially marks 2 years of being in Cameroon. This time
2010, I was first arriving in Yaounde with my ‘stage’ (group), excited for
everything that was to come, probably much like the newest group of volunteers
or trainees who have just arrived this past Friday. Congrats to everyone else
who has also reached this moment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today also marks my last bit of time left here. In exactly 2
months I’ll be arriving back in America. Friends have already been saying that
the date is so close and ask if I’m excited, if I’ve started packing, if they
can have dibs on things, etc. But when I look at my calendar, I think 2 months
is still a long time and I have only barely begun packing (and really what I sorted
through so far is just as a result of moving houses). I still have many things
to do and look forward to here before I go back and I am planning to enjoy
every moment left. </span></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-70286457401348788702012-06-03T14:42:00.001-07:002012-06-03T14:42:33.525-07:00Perhaps the most important thing for life here: buckets<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well I know I’ve mentioned these things before in other
posts, I believe about water and washing clothes but sometimes when I just look
at life here, I still can’t believe how important these things are. Yep,
buckets that’s what I’m talking about. Buckets. Buckets of all colors, even
tie-dye, all sizes – big and small, pretty much one shape – round, but really
there is an endless variety of buckets here and for a reason. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Buckets are probably the thing I use most and for most of my
household activities. It’s really crazy sometimes how much I rely on buckets
and how much I would probably be in trouble if I didn’t have them. They are
used for so many things: washing clothes and shoes, taking a bath, cleaning
dishes, storing water, collecting water when it rains, storing items or even
food, selling items on the street – buckets are essential to life here. I
myself have about 6 buckets and one giant trashcan (kind of a bucket, right)
that I use every day. Particularly now with a not-so-reliable water system and
it being rainy season, any time it looks cloudy I make sure to put as many
buckets out in a row under the roof to collect water. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It’s funny to think sometimes that we almost never use
buckets in the States – maybe we have some stored in a garage or shed with junk
or who knows what in them but very rarely are there buckets actually in the
house and that we use often. And yet after being here now and using them all
the time, I don’t know what I’ll do when I go back with no buckets. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Almost all my buckets...still a few more around the house</span></td></tr>
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<br /></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-73752208625109051462012-05-28T08:09:00.003-07:002012-05-28T08:09:33.780-07:00Mosques<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Since my particular area of Cameroon is mostly Muslim, there
are mosques almost everywhere. In Banyo there is a mosque almost every hundred
feet. Some mosques look pretty shabby and are practically falling apart, little
square houses that you only know are a mosque because of the small Arabic
writing in front or the minaret. Sometimes it isn’t really even a building, but
just any area blocked off with bricks in the shape of a square building with a
minaret cut out. And then sometimes the mosque looks amazing. it’s beautiful
with lots of detail and just really a great structure within the community. In
fact I would say that some of the msoquees I’ve seen are really the most
beautiful buildings I’ve seen here altogether. I will really miss walking down
the street and seeing such lovely buildings when I go back and of course I’ll
miss hearing the call to prayer everyday multiple times of day. Can’t say
however that I will necessarily miss the constant stops while traveling for
passengers to prayer… </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFtYBw4RTYe5yddkyX6I5fm3Vm6WLLZDsedpWWGja4Luvwy6Y1PJh_YAF3zCJq1-Fp3f0dbjnUwcvmPPS4A9uICXyWM8E8ut1h8Z6R54atoHlaLbfCyonv8kYZAbOz0e-1a41nHukF-Es/s1600/DSCN0119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFtYBw4RTYe5yddkyX6I5fm3Vm6WLLZDsedpWWGja4Luvwy6Y1PJh_YAF3zCJq1-Fp3f0dbjnUwcvmPPS4A9uICXyWM8E8ut1h8Z6R54atoHlaLbfCyonv8kYZAbOz0e-1a41nHukF-Es/s320/DSCN0119.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mayo Djinga Mosque - The newest, probably most expensive and certainly nicest building </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">in this small village</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoaeGaAOIPX92AHQHtIsDEskO877j-FVg_LGioRyY1baZsjhYcOrum13wWmLnOsacrcrG6tHzDGdcWjRZ6ksCp4TByOtEvXTlg0tGFHXVZp7VfLoSu4sEVnROu6lGosM5mLGBLwPK70wHP/s1600/DSC04842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoaeGaAOIPX92AHQHtIsDEskO877j-FVg_LGioRyY1baZsjhYcOrum13wWmLnOsacrcrG6tHzDGdcWjRZ6ksCp4TByOtEvXTlg0tGFHXVZp7VfLoSu4sEVnROu6lGosM5mLGBLwPK70wHP/s320/DSC04842.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">my favorite - the big mosque in Ngaoundere </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVod0q5K0qnmunHbHIRzbZYIE5YyWFM5pvjow1dmF3m4m36okO8yjBHEwI6NA_xtEwVjgsZAxBvEAs1MviujeaFcbg7ewhptUP_nWHDjbjbyUOPhIR5hjaDT-PNxCfV_9t-svr-4G8jgyv/s1600/DSC04844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVod0q5K0qnmunHbHIRzbZYIE5YyWFM5pvjow1dmF3m4m36okO8yjBHEwI6NA_xtEwVjgsZAxBvEAs1MviujeaFcbg7ewhptUP_nWHDjbjbyUOPhIR5hjaDT-PNxCfV_9t-svr-4G8jgyv/s320/DSC04844.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Another nice mosque in Ngaoundere</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW55ID6UKcpQDPmiXdmNCtgOwyyiVdSL6sCwnqEIEt1E75ZoT2iqFOOOEgt3lSC-VawRBIAB9Wr1-hEwKaSKOQL0BeTbaD91mYxAuSdbMWrn_gkP-AMelm4jQIPDugC6S35PlnV8_OUXH9/s1600/b3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW55ID6UKcpQDPmiXdmNCtgOwyyiVdSL6sCwnqEIEt1E75ZoT2iqFOOOEgt3lSC-VawRBIAB9Wr1-hEwKaSKOQL0BeTbaD91mYxAuSdbMWrn_gkP-AMelm4jQIPDugC6S35PlnV8_OUXH9/s320/b3.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Banyo's main mosque </span></div>
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<span id="goog_1651032430"></span><span id="goog_1651032431"></span></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-39874965290442610522012-05-25T00:24:00.001-07:002012-05-25T00:24:32.877-07:00Babies everywhere<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In America, I would have to say that the average high
schooler/college student/younger adult comes across babies maybe once in a
while – perhaps a family member or family friend has a child and one gets to
see and hold the baby. Here, well you practically can’t get away from babies.
They are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everywhere</i>. I can’t even
begin to count the number of babies I’ve held since being here, let alone all the
ones that I just see every day. And sometimes I’m talking day old babies. Not
only does everyone have tons of babies, but maybe since they’re just all over,
people are not as concerned, I’ll say, about possible risky behavior for the
baby. For example, it’s quite normal to allow a 3,4,5 year old to hold the
baby, even walk around with the baby. You often see young children with babies
attached to their back (like the mothers do) but sometimes I swear I don’t know
how the child doesn’t almost fall over from the baby as the child isn’t much
bigger herself. Then it's also normal to put babies on motos - either the woman just keeps the baby on her back while riding or even better, the moto driver rests the baby on the gas tank in front of them while on the moto. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOmiQ_97QbvMp7bS_eqtklkqG3d_6Y7BRwuGMZqdwKN7Ua0yw11wZffXj4hKznXANNctneG1MQc3fSTjuXHhpwnhh3sH5DMbmbh3jLM0WNkpgylSH4XWUmhsmNBFO5HppXKC_PoJGvoHp_/s1600/bb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOmiQ_97QbvMp7bS_eqtklkqG3d_6Y7BRwuGMZqdwKN7Ua0yw11wZffXj4hKznXANNctneG1MQc3fSTjuXHhpwnhh3sH5DMbmbh3jLM0WNkpgylSH4XWUmhsmNBFO5HppXKC_PoJGvoHp_/s320/bb.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I really liked this particular baby and asked to <br />'borrow' him for a day or two but it never<br />happened don't think they took me seriously</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another common practice thats not so much possibly dangerous but just different from what we know is for one to allow someone else
to raise their child. Often people send their young child to an extended family
member for a while. And it’s also acceptable to even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ask </i>for someone’s baby. For example, maybe a woman’s own children
are grown and she wants to have a young child to help with household chores and
have around – so just ask someone you know who has recently had a baby. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here are some photos of just a few babies. Believe me there
are many, many more …</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHQNc4y-LXV9qEUoF-2abnF-7o0p2Qj_Y0jOnkL61zvZXWs7vjKbrjfW9S2N17Ho9KbD_Wk-xs-45KuHcRTYElCKtSPiDA5lWpHpy2KDgGdXAdF6zMipnfzRX0lZ5mvxPTQtr5TWoy0wFo/s1600/bb2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHQNc4y-LXV9qEUoF-2abnF-7o0p2Qj_Y0jOnkL61zvZXWs7vjKbrjfW9S2N17Ho9KbD_Wk-xs-45KuHcRTYElCKtSPiDA5lWpHpy2KDgGdXAdF6zMipnfzRX0lZ5mvxPTQtr5TWoy0wFo/s320/bb2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A few day old twins</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFbQ6IB02dLucXDVOETl85AQiBJ40GnUAbKmF2j9BFr87N2r8afuW_dVoWyIreb624uIhkfLKWOMhNqd9YAECREXauJ6v7ibm-GDEgxcYn9e1O42cIZL1D_CbmLS0CCr1x9NLuUtgX3B0/s1600/bb3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFbQ6IB02dLucXDVOETl85AQiBJ40GnUAbKmF2j9BFr87N2r8afuW_dVoWyIreb624uIhkfLKWOMhNqd9YAECREXauJ6v7ibm-GDEgxcYn9e1O42cIZL1D_CbmLS0CCr1x9NLuUtgX3B0/s320/bb3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How most babies are carried around - just tie them to your back with some fabric</span></div>
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<br /></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-73042083029346433542012-05-04T03:51:00.002-07:002012-05-04T03:51:51.585-07:00Home Sweet Home<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My new house ! </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-RxtT0K-UzjKg7KmodufZppNpSmAfvrbtyS-Wj-bW2F66Fn_9u128xNlUej0CThHIn9P3R_mumxOHwph_ZQHIwdf_BMtbacCpQFnZAO_jZGD84l-YOn6Q6VJVKi1Qi85hmAeRetkRpC0/s1600/nh2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-RxtT0K-UzjKg7KmodufZppNpSmAfvrbtyS-Wj-bW2F66Fn_9u128xNlUej0CThHIn9P3R_mumxOHwph_ZQHIwdf_BMtbacCpQFnZAO_jZGD84l-YOn6Q6VJVKi1Qi85hmAeRetkRpC0/s320/nh2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So almost an entire year and a few close calls later but I
finally have the house that I want. And while it may seem ridiculous to be
moving now when I have only 3 months left, it’s worth it. My first house was
really great itself but there were problems more so with location. I’ll just
say the problems were due to culture differences - some people here don’t have the
same ideas about personal space and what’s appropriate as a neighbor. And for
anyone who’s visited me, I’ll say one word – kudjo. So it’s better now that I have
my own compound.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My new house is literally across the street – maybe 10
steps. It’s owned by the Lamido and was recently finished. It’s pink and green
with a giant living room and high ceiling, two bedrooms and bathroom that even
has a toilet seat and cover, an indoor kitchen and a detached kitchen for wood
fire cooking. And there’s running water and power (most of the time) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’ve only been here a few nights so far and still have a lot of work before it’s all pulled together, but it’s already been amazing being here and not having to worry about the many things I did before. I will most certainly thoroughly enjoy my last few months in my new house. And I hope my replacement will enjoy his or her full 2 years in this great house. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr_Aa_D1V8u4eAXwo0TNfTEUjQpIwChQ7r-EELTbYwl0EeVVzQea39v5IVko-Z2be1eF0SPSzQuQoOQRlJ8kMOe9elOP_C4rAkjjI1RTDH1LZoCSo0vAE-T6MGS12_ghaJGLnD7-Be5Zbt/s1600/nh1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr_Aa_D1V8u4eAXwo0TNfTEUjQpIwChQ7r-EELTbYwl0EeVVzQea39v5IVko-Z2be1eF0SPSzQuQoOQRlJ8kMOe9elOP_C4rAkjjI1RTDH1LZoCSo0vAE-T6MGS12_ghaJGLnD7-Be5Zbt/s320/nh1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My old house is on the left - again literally like 10 steps away</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlvZOt6di6bB_eNl37Mz6BFhGWrJzpmBOcKKznFpV3yXN3xFR-_-lg6XTKO0zOozT_1Uddu2WHUVBHaaY77f1ZhXShZq6jOYTkIEQ56cg5B0iS7NOrQiqXSh0i2-uT-hYUNWxUi4fMdmQ4/s1600/nh5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlvZOt6di6bB_eNl37Mz6BFhGWrJzpmBOcKKznFpV3yXN3xFR-_-lg6XTKO0zOozT_1Uddu2WHUVBHaaY77f1ZhXShZq6jOYTkIEQ56cg5B0iS7NOrQiqXSh0i2-uT-hYUNWxUi4fMdmQ4/s320/nh5.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My new room </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Living room before... </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Indoor kitchen </span></div>
<br /></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-84528341100241436322012-03-09T12:17:00.008-08:002012-03-09T12:48:27.395-08:00So fresh and so clean<div style="text-align: left;">I would have to say that the thing that struck me the most about life here that I hadn’t expected at all is the importance of appearances, specifically clothing. I’m sure anyone back home wouldn’t really expect to see people here in Cameroon so nicely dressed and I know there are plenty of volunteers here that use the excuse – ‘It’s Africa and you just get dirty so why dress nice’. But appearances and attire are actually very important to people.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div> <p class="MsoNormal">When people go out, they try to look their best, whether they are wearing traditional clothing or more modern clothes. And yes things are dirty here particularly now with the height of dry season and red dust absolutely everyone but that doesn’t stop people from putting on their whitest t-shirt and going out. It’s important to have clean clothes and clean shoes – yes shoes. People wash their shoes some almost every day. And for example every morning after students and teachers make the trek out to the school and are covered in dust, the first thing they do after arriving is make sure to dust off and clean their shoes. And even tennis shoes that are used for sport are cleaned. I myself have even begun to clean my tennis shoes even though I wear them every day for sport and they get dirty every day, it’s important here. Ironed, pressed clothes are also important. And when you look extra nice and clean, sometimes people will say you look ‘fresh’ which is a nice compliment.</p><div> <p class="MsoNormal">So cleanliness is across the board an important part of looking nice when going out. But then there are other things that maybe wouldn’t be that popular back home, but people do love here.</p></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div> <p class="MsoNormal">- Tight t-shirts with decals or glitter/sparkles. ‘Africa’ and ‘Cameroon’ t-shirts are super popular right now. And Ed Hardy knock off t-shirts also.</p><div style="text-align: center; "><div style="text-align: center; "><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2rwp2u8WPPgNfySJEkcbWXC8PiwcHVK5zVTasHbtZON1dCCqWrP4kd0W7rJNBcY8PgStk3BUdVn0_errmhdkid7DMtpxfrdWU6MhlX6PzCbFvi46XjGOc_vHzZIr3IXzcaZUSy-92TFH2/s320/aa1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717997060828111106" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></div></div>This was given to me for my birthday</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;">- Small ties. Every big man, important person at some point rocks out a super small tie. The smaller the tie, the more important you are. Also super pointy men's dress shoes. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div> <p class="MsoNormal">- Man purses worn around the neck. You know something nice like Gucci or Louis Vutton.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">- In the realm of traditional clothing, right now a popular outfit is pants and a long tunic for girls with of course a scarf to cover the head and hair</p></div><div> <p class="MsoNormal">So while I don’t necessarily follow all the particular fashion trends here, I do always try to look presentable with ironed clothes and cleaned shoes. And I would say for any volunteers coming, don’t underestimate your appearance here. If I could do it over, I would definitely bring some nicer clothing and dressier shoes. Things do get dirty, but it’s nice to look clean and professional every now and then.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jDDTxNbdD35hMQCCqEJexhYOB1E-YdePX_8h-EjVKVfWhvdG9O_6LRj5fOUnemLy2XKg6w3iOoAYPDktDTgT0S_YeufqrLTSkkyb5ms0NXXObeRDLuO6_5zY2wpxI3L13NdJc2uPpy6g/s320/aa2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717999974171979378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></div><div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't they look so nice and clean </div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5gxyC_a44GKssvQeNNwfeQr-Ctub1kBy2JIHWGxwONrw6R054_7wFi9CSw9oVNo50d_bK5_TcUXjO2Vu8e168VER3MM6WkqRrMaznBWih9szVnMEf9ksI5ZGrblJoDbNhU8fHSwMDrD4/s320/aa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717997065044232050" style="text-align: right;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 320px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div><div><br /></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-58141161958724457712012-03-07T11:00:00.001-08:002012-03-07T11:19:47.914-08:00How integrated do you feel in your community?Every 4 months, one of the responsibilities as a volunteer is to complete a report about my activities. As you would imagine, I list all the work that I have done over those months. but in addition, I report about basically all the aspects of my life in my village – how my language skills are, if I’ve had any security or safety issues, culture exchanged, etc. Well one of the questions we are asked is ‘How integrated do you feel in your community?’ I find this to be one of the most difficult questions to answer. What does it even mean?<br /><br />I feel like so often when we talk about life in another country as a volunteer, we talk about how we have ups and downs, how it can be so challenging with a different culture and how we try to integrate into our community. But really what does any of that mean? I think we often too easily say that our life is so different just because we are in a different country, but is it really? Why do we put such an emphasis on the highs and lows and that we are working and living in another country? I mean do you not have good days and bad days when you are back home in America? Do you not have moments when it feels like nothing is working how you want when you are in America? Maybe other people don’t but I definitely do. When I look at my life here and compare it with my life from before, I realize that really there are so many similarities. Yes, of course some of my daily activities are different, but in essence, isn’t most of it the same? I have my friends here who I care about and spend my time with. I have my work and responsibilities. I have days that I wish would never end and some that don’t end soon enough. But isn’t that all part of life no matter where you are or what you're doing?<br /><br />So back to the first question – How integrated do you feel in your community? – Well for everyone back home, I mean do you ever ask yourself this question? No who does. And well if you did, what would you even say? It’s not something you think about and even when you do, how do you determine an accurate response. But here it’s something we discuss at times a lot with one another and I would just like to say that sometimes I find it to be an absurd question that we would otherwise not ask one another if it weren’t for living in another country and culture.Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-18556973261015302112012-03-02T11:29:00.004-08:002012-03-02T11:48:17.919-08:00Boys English Group<div style="text-align: left;">So I don’t usually really talk about my work and most of that is because my work is really just teaching English everyday but here is a small project that I’ve recently started that I wanted to share about because I was happy it was finally happening.</div> <p class="MsoNormal">Since coming to Banyo and starting work at the lycee, I have wanted to work with students outside of regular class – to work with a small group and do more activities that I was interested in and that they were interested in. Well I have finally gotten things rolling (only after a year and half). Some of my younger students came to me a few months ago and wanted an opportunity to practice English with more of a focus on conversational skills. So I invited a few more students of the same age level and we set a day and time to meet each week. It’s been going well for about a month now. And the students really seem to enjoy it and I definitely enjoy working with such a small group where I can actually hear everyone and they all have a chance to participate. The meetings thus far have been rather unstructured, some meetings we go over more in depth what they learned in class, some meetings we just talked about culture like school and differences in America and here. But I think it is going well and I am planning on using our meetings to incorporate lessons on topics like study skills and life skills while also allowing them to practice their English.</p><div> <p class="MsoNormal">Here are some pictures of an activity we just did this past week. I brought in maps of the US and the world and we discussed some geography and I shared about America. Then they drew a map of Cameroon and described their country. All of this in English of course for them to practice.</p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><br /></span></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEKGICmLqDsCdBtWcZYEytLWIN6ZGjRMtIo4cHgDl9qodLTMU_axxd8d7IVWmk-x2dXnLpb2eos2vyTWc1W_4NovHruB2gUOUqwgSHupSYe8ysdUD0U2LSid5vKz5G-CSqYDrQhWm5WLgq/s320/boys1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715386352652975442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><div></div></span><br /><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUUjAl_gnGvpLF_VRPgkQkswvxye1ANyRjtkL3VbSzrqlljBF8YvKE0W0Y65fVBJ5_3GqhsQfNryJCz27pGufaKnll3Y6zh_LVN3SL81Q8H_rkhmqYKBKX84I0dHspzvqj-qfRDXkiDG_u/s320/boys.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715386347073090226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcb2TwTziwk1hYr2IYC04ADOpnHB_AMe4IkWrMRtGtLLePJd6HALQQH1AOXoaDC_1Cyb_fudPhcTPjELuUYB4QP4NbaVuDQdrNyfjghTKAfdZvjYCsJ_sX39nBXGtIKJ5v37Yb_CnetzCX/s320/boys2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715386361590863890" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div></div><div></div><div><div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-84026990827738769682012-02-24T22:18:00.002-08:002012-03-07T11:27:50.671-08:00Cooking with Fire<div style="text-align: left;">I know I’ve talked about food before but I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned just how exactly people go about cooking their food. Most volunteers cook with gas which means when we first move to our post, we have to search for a gas bottle to buy in a big city, transport the bottle to our village and attach to a ‘stove’ which usually has just 2 burners, maybe a small third one if it’s fancy. The gas bottle can last anyway from a few months to over half a year depending on how much cooking you do. When it runs out, you hope there’s gas available in town so you can exchange the empty bottle for a new one otherwise you’re stuck waiting with no way to cook or heat water for a warm bucket bath. Well this was the case for me a few months ago and I waited but apparently the whole country was out of gas (still don’t quite believe that) so I had to turn to more traditional ways of cooking….</div><br />Cameroonians do cook with gas but most find it expensive for the kind of cooking they do so they prefer to cook with wood. Just set up a few rocks to put a pot on top of. Place a few logs underneath and start a fire. Well at first I thought I would try this after I failed to find gas but one of my friends who I asked to help me get started advised me or more so gave me a reality check and told me that would be too difficult for me to do. However, he suggested a different method that would be a little easy. Here’s what I got: a metal cylinder, wood chips and wood. Here’s how it works: use an empty bottle and place in the center while you pack in wood chips then take the bottle out leaving an open hole in the center. The wood goes in a little opening on the bottom and put some petrol on it all to start the fire. Then get a cooking. Now my friend after buying everything did explain and show me (while almost starting a fire in my house as he told me it would be no problem to cook with inside – not true) and I have seen Cameroonians using them all the time particular at night cooking beignets, omelettes, etc. Well here’s what happened the first time I tried to use it (fortunately I had a fellow volunteer with me to help so she can attest to the story and could probably tell it much better)<div><br />Well we wanted to cook French toast and some tea. We set up the cylinder outside my back door and the volunteer got a stool to sit on so she could cook and fan the fire. We also decided that we had way to many things to do at once so we brought out my living room table to put the bread and everything on. Thing started okay but then… well we had a difficult time fighting off my neighbor’s chickens while also keeping the fire under control and in the madness I knocked over the petrol bottle and almost got both of us burnt. And we ended up eating burnt French toast. It was rough but I eventually got gas a few days later and it was like back to living in luxury.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhos27jp_QQlFxgWd9bsVs1MwS5zjqFKWzo8t4pBXSv4b9d-5S4DUBhdDqrlRL4KhdpvQ6V3seLrrIE4lK_gDKGwYTTqmCT5pqqihf1TMZHvHbc0d2WWUQmp7I2F9JxdW-_WZOhtLPtkHkO/s320/k.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717238325064497602" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">The first morning cooking with wood...stressful</div><br />I will say though since this experience months ago, I have continued to use the wood fire and for the most part have gotten the hang of it. I heat water, make cakes – it’s not that bad, kind of fun sometimes when I don’t mess it up.</div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-16062833879206394232012-02-24T03:26:00.003-08:002012-02-24T03:44:25.717-08:00Youth Day<div style="text-align: left;">February 11 is a national holiday: Youth Day. It’s pretty much like any other holiday with special pagne, games and events, parade, party – the whole package but it’s dedicated to ‘youth’ which in this country can stretch to mean as long as you are not married you are a youth.</div><br />Last year I was not in Banyo for the holiday so this year I got to see and participate in all the awesome activities. And of course being a teacher, there really were some things I was supposed to help with. the first was ‘parade practice’ at school with all the students. Basically I just stood around and watched but the other teachers did help direct students and yell at them when they were not in a straight line. The students marched under the hot sun and chanted songs about how they were tired and wanted to go home.<br /><br />Another day was ‘community service’ which basically meant students had to do manual labor and complained the whole time that they were again tired. And I again I didn’t really know what I was doing and I still don’t understand sweeping dirt here so the students asked if it was okay and I just said I don’t know. After about an hour of them asking I just gave up and they left. I think the ground was clean?<div><div><br />Then there were other events like some games against schools but I didn’t make it to all that. I did of course go out for the big parade on the Saturday. All the schools march in their uniforms and then youth groups and associations come out also. Even the moto-taximen march. It was quite an event.<br /><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHcq_ZdRa_eDhiBtb_sQWSoD5rbLmM0KztqSjCviXjXZ6WZnisi7_1zX6Kq0aH_-relQuDMMoiilS0QRrGVvsA-4yB1jZrXv0Iprr2pZoh6nKB31aANHMTisGmZNkByXnGIfkd060_qt7j/s320/y2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712665311146136658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">It's Toga! </div><br /></div><div><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2GL_xjLtMlniGlrMLwN2_oDXxhXzMrwuM6fA2bYyLcDw15-wpiKiBO2FPaCZIrlbLePIPSQbDZPYg4k6V76wECOTK3MISJUXAdqj1JewjhAAweHk876SlAHVqCgcpwoYISektIveFVRKM/s320/y1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712665302365279234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwNVDYbZWiDtO_vaQlZ-38Q6kcyGFQ86yTmMEa98Yj7he5ztGZIn2_RcBID0Lb_9yxv130EUOrzaMj2hlE3fkdu8IhH1Olg5cUpMctYS0U53-yYXdmUcOwGnOI-0gapwLUKucZzF0tO3-/s320/y.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712665298057181378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-78202028881276728352011-12-17T15:11:00.000-08:002011-12-17T15:49:03.106-08:00Mountaga<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyRJtKeSGUCYX-y3BlYFoaSHln7wTrkanQn6TweEdoSA1VLaiXxCFFDd2WBN5rTafy4dfry33kxVZv2KFaaqQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is where I spend a lot of my free time. It's a fairly big compound with a bunch of children and this one in particular is definitely my favorite. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-90761923753956181662011-11-17T08:56:00.000-08:002011-11-18T13:46:35.085-08:00Tabaski<div style="text-align: left;">It's that time of year again when all the Muslims in town shell out money and buy new outfits and the best looking ram they can afford. Yes, fete de mouton happened - this past weekend (november 6) and it was even better than last year. All the regular activities - prayer in the giant filed, sacrifice of the first ram, eating lots of food, Fantasia - all that fun stuff. But rather than write, here are some pictures....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHLyxCNJoACprKYvVrDgAZ8I0vF6kqyaibP0kc1oJ172EbjkKWTrlKcOEkBMD3n-HDquuL_4DqnIXpaDeFm7cJwZftdpMXl9cMLZcmbLfiYEdOvOnorSQoNso-TIic6H7nQYgCBT_WUJW8/s320/IMG_3217.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676453115192310130" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; " /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Prayer</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsNnDxP59PcbU-pI-HP-bO3Z3URw8wEbEhYe1blATMnjkmOMLtUYWxR4XxJvuKFBcLI1vs2uANJNWCyYzgu2t5VzEgBq0PIU4KXvEUPYzP2MjiKo8npXXXFFOu9tZU-2FsGLUo_Xfc4n_/s320/DSC03090.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676453120698348754" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; " /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;">After prayer</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx4hvz0NIP6DzOoxHRRxWB47fv7D_ECYUK55tuBXrAa0h75tj8iEIYtXdNRur_j4s26WjvqBEwSc0xl5dUw_ZJMFzkwIMtdnTsvLFsapgTTSHN9_x3qy01dakW4L3jK4hER5yVp8VkdxyQ/s320/DSC03161.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676453186129426242" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Fantasia</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnwBFF-IldPa6UgV59y3cXRf4r7rzAEBYyYzx1_0uoVWDd1ZPLZneH_nGb2EyWUzpobF6p1Wzz3YgHo5jK8nSQqY6fovbSvrThUYZ6RtWmFuCM1LB8AfGpGM9RUlB0LR6Fmy8IhiyTvMZ0/s320/DSC03171.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676453129338426290" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">After Fantasia </div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><br /></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><br /></div></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-7671168332168663642011-10-30T13:36:00.001-07:002012-03-07T11:33:18.156-08:00So if you happen to be in Cameroon and are looking...So if you happen to be in Cameroon and are looking for places to visit, you should definitely consider Banyo. It’s in a strategic location particularly if you want to travel north but avoid taking the train. From Bafoussam, just take an agence car straight to Banyo (about 10 – 12 hours – have some music). Once you arrive, spend a day or so hanging out in town. Here are some of the ‘hot spots’ to see….<br /><p class="MsoNormal">The market</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now only when you up for peopledisturbing you and trying to get you to buy their products at for much more than you should (just because you’re white of course), you should take a stroll through the market. There are all kinds of boutiques and sometimes you really can find a great item like clothing, fabric, shoes, household supplies and food. The busiest days are Tuesday and Friday but it’s open all week during the day (just try to avoid afternoon prayer times as many of the shops close)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Djouta Fada</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The main strip and only stretch of paved road in town – Djouta Fada. The pavement starts right around the market where you can do all your fresh food shopping. Then along the actual road, there are restaurants, bars, the bakery and lots of other boutiques in between.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Chez Denise</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If you’re looking for a decent restaurant that isn’t right on the road for everyone to watch as you eat, head to Chez Denise just down a little alley way. It’s still right one the main strip and there’s even a sign to point you in the right direction. It’s private, has a television, cold drinks and usually pretty good chicken and rice.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ZcDr-Lbr5bQVtSXVaJTYZdtEqUyp6LPfnhRHhpgDci5-OhLOni6u68okMG-y4uOhq0Y-fv5kQ1ZPun_6P6nBrbjPkNfB9uZ-et80bzdevjgTeqZTpdYQ_voA-KpUJsGiscZAiy_YA8Vb/s320/b2.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Dandy’s</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">For nights out, Dandy’s is the place to go – the biggest, most hoppin bar in Banyo and it’s location is ideal. It’s right in the center of the strip and has lots of good street food mommies who come out at night with dishes like fish, meat, omelettes and fries. The music can be a bit loud sometimes, but there are always cold drinks and a nice atmosphere.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV1I0iurmAjhVbzA6ZqkceT-Yw0tD2k-wyeaUucj0RpZgid5a_N7uirxvspAE8vHsiF2OErZqff-EJcv9rdAh7fubrnAqRw-ctC7figC5f_be6Q5Yy2oJ1h339J6siN0Tej6fc5SijUQTs/s320/b1.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Oasis Boulangerie </p> <p class="MsoNormal">A little down the road from Chez Denise and Dandy’s is the fairly new bakery – Oasis Boulangerie. It has nice outdoor seating, a great spot for people watching and if everything there is running smoothly, you can get ice cream, slushies, rotisserie chicken, French fries, burgers and of course pastries like sugar beignets. It’s a nice place to hang out when you’re tired and want to relax but don’t want to be in a bar setting (like Dandy’s)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBTRBsDfh9JWPTrHnjguUw3fYXfEVOvKn0waaWN8QfVn4XstEoc12Wbarz43srr05beS9iJL9c4pFArdDHgzl-GpKpzKzFERRofjW4BMMmEYdvw1CEQV12_d6rNsj_dQZ3GdFBzJJ5Use/s320/b.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Lamidat</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The chefferie or Lamidat is where the Lamido and his family and entourage live.It is full of history and in fact the current lamido has even written a book about the lamidat in Banyo that you can pick up for 10.000CFA.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The main mosque</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">The biggest mosque in Banyo and directly across from the Lamidat, it can be a sight to see any Friday afternoon and particularly on fetes like Ramadan and Fete de Mouton. Huge crowds gather here regularly for prayer and of course Fantasia.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1RDVoPQD_VuGLjavVw8k-NCQKi4K_j7RUls6WrUEA8szccZ7m-knY1Niygo2oz7OH8HFFx_ZV-WxtBilTe8Ih4dBcFRZcmW33HGh2FGESTotzjdoPbYEvn6OKB_PEv1nsqrTy0eMw1UBv/s320/b3.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mt Djoumbaul</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If you looking for some adventure and activity, you can always take the morning to walk up Mt Djoumboul. It’s not too bad a walk and takes approximately 4 -5 hours up and back. Also at the top, you can see remnants from when the Germans where in Banyo and used the top of the mountain as the location for prisoners.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2irxgXTmqEyHzKeBgZEHGnZAwFH3-7buTyAIDqMjzaAmQ-kXxQ7eHKjflPF4JpL7drW4f57u60OVmWtwVJ7RRJrlhzUbnAR_ay8qa3uOlO1tzTgW6YnpgCvcc7mC-qlTRgsisw6nJaNhG/s320/b4.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now these are just some of the more popular places to visit, but there are many hidden treasures throughout Banyo and nice places to just take a stroll. It really is a nice town and although it’s a bit removed from the major cities, it does have a lot to offer and is worth visiting. </p>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-41978709525367762282011-10-14T20:35:00.000-07:002011-10-14T20:55:32.849-07:00Presidential Elections 2011<div style="text-align: left;">Although they're not completely over (as the results haven't officially been announced) all the campaigning and voting is finished for the presidential elections in Cameroon and so far everything has been calm and kind of interesting to observe.</div><div><br /></div><div>So here's how things went in Banyo...</div><div>Leading up to elections, there was various campaign meetings and about a week before elections, tons of campaign posters (mostly for Biya) went up all over town. And the day before, there was a little parade through the middle of town with motos, trucks, cars, posters, loudspeakers, etc.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsyFvwNhmRsGlz6J-8T44_V5vB9yC5NZWNRFCNs7fprpZaNy3QturCFFoLBYwZsdPqQIeZz0mnBnjrsiXKZbbXv0eL1IAiV7-8WHFQ_L6N258QCt1jYklxUiz8IyRvm_YBQ9jtQhjVZbfz/s320/e6.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Parade for Biya in Banyo </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>On the day of elections, polls were at various schools throughout town. And I actually live right near two schools that we holding elections so I had the opportunity to see 'democracy in action' as some people said. At the schools, lists were posted with the voters registered for that particular locations (they're name, birthdate, profession, etc). Voters brought their voting cards and got in line. I believe the way it worked is that they picked up pieces of paper for each of the candidates then went behind a curtain to make their decision by putting one candidate's paper in an envelope. Then they put their vote in the ballot box. Oh also during the day, nothing was open in town - apparently an order from higher up - not even moto taxis or anything out. So for the whole day, just stayed at home basically. But after polls closed around 6:30pm, was able to go out and about. </div><div><br /></div><div>So now we are about 9 days from the date that the results are to be announced so be on the lookout... </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxdYaWvU4hlp-ExccuEp6OZU2cHCaHV7uhuk1ZeNrDKTSYkbeyCljcMEvXv7CLUyiyoEHXMl7nzoyQit1fjoT6ijIsRFghc4b3jN2Gwq2OM6XLBA985xiTCzDQlBH9k1i3_FAYMYpuwxcp/s320/e8.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Voter card - the boxes on the back are for the voter to be fingerprinted once they vote</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXz6pMLzHPqha4HKlkTjcBk5arpkBAAsdtx13BTKRD4p9xz90CxDXWXVVDthkJug2iKOkCWT7kMXXslzxWQsgUZpdaWt849XG0IsqR9GyDzVR2qT3hrNKMN0vFnlAfcIFBKJTBnUsDN-pe/s320/e9.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Women lined up to vote - awesome to see so many of them out </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxCGMNuGFYmq6ch8eIQ1xoTLFZls55wqzesxeHqkL-TlwvAVaihdJTy6ZwANw_fdKVYyQvrrpXAD_vt1LdobP5MeHmmmcpMkxtqy1QfDbND_wwUUwZ3mVTbVJDX0a_wgpAHfKPjOX1ElQL/s320/e99.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Woman putting her vote in the box</div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-32999059555340323562011-10-07T22:54:00.000-07:002011-10-07T22:58:21.112-07:00School: Year 2<p class="MsoNormal">Well the 2011- 2012 school year is well underway and the first grading period is almost finished. With a new year, there are new teachers, new students, new classes. At the start of the year, I thought that we would have even more English teachers than last year. But I was mistaken and in fact it’s quite the opposite – this year it’s only me and one other English teacher for a school with approximately 1,000 students spread over 7 grade levels (6<sup>th</sup>- 12<sup>th</sup> grade). Needless to say, we are both teaching more classes and hours this year but of course it still isn’t enough and there are still classes without an English teacher yet. That’s Cameroon. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">So this year I am teaching one class of 6eme, all of 5eme (divided into 2 sections), seconde, premiere and I am about to pickup a class of terminale. Most of the classes have about 60 – 70 students although I did luck out with seconde this year – there are only about 20 students and wow what a difference a smaller class size makes. But even though my other classes are still big, it’s not as bad this year because I know the majority of them. So particularly knowing names already helps some with classroom management. Resources are still limited of course but I’m really trying to make more photocopies for students since maybe 8 out of 60 have the book. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">There are also lots of new teachers and a new principal all of whom really make it a much more pleasant atmosphere this year. And unfortunately there is still amicale but I’m hoping it will also be better this year – we will see. Oh and teacher’s day came and went this past Wednesday. I bought the tacky fabric again but there weren’t really to many events because of the upcoming elections. So that is something to watch out for – Sunday Oct 9 – presidential elections….</p>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-2171463739149096692011-09-15T03:34:00.001-07:002011-09-15T03:49:02.261-07:00A Weekend Wedding<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>This past weekend I attended my first wedding in Cameroon. The son of a neighbor was getting married. We have been waiting for the date of the wedding for a while (the date continued to change every couple of weeks). So it finally happened.<br /><br />Things started bright and early Friday morning with the doting ceremony. You could kind of consider this the exchanging of vowels in a church – it’s what ‘seals the deal’. The man basically gives his bride offering. Next there was lots of cooking for the women. Peeling potatoes with dull knives, plucking chicken feathers, cooking over a wood fire – fun stuff. Later in the evening there was some celebrating at the mother of the groom’s house (where also all the cooking had taken place). We ate food, listened to music, some dancing. Then about 8, all the women loaded into cars to go ‘take the bride’ and bring her back to her house (you could kind of say the equivalent of a bridal suite except she never really left it and stays there for a week).<br /><br />The next day started again with more cooking which this time I actually helped with a little, kind of, by cutting potatoes. But I had to leave to pick up my outfit for the rest of the event. We had ‘team fabric’ – matching fabric for the party. Then about 5, there was another small event involving the groom. Dancing, music, shouting, throwing of money, painting his hands – all of this was involved. After a short break to rest up some, there was another brief ceremony involving the groom that took place in the ‘bridal suite’ house. I think it was a story or a blessing or something (it was all in the local language so I pretty only understood the words ‘husband’ and ‘wife’). Then the real event- the evening party. It of course followed African time – starting almost 3 hours. There was a ton of food and drinks and music however no dancing (rather odd). The groom was there again but still no bride. This time there was at least bride stand-in – her younger sister. Everything wrapped upabout 1am and although all the events were finished, we still hadn’t even seen the bride. So the next day, westopped by to see her and take some pictures. Altogether a very fun and tiring weekend but I don’t know if I’d want to have a similar wedding – the bride not attending a single event – quite the opposite of how things are in America.<div><br /></div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">.<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjflCUNrifNR2vjGOoZKsAtiwi8IYNc12ktWNzY45vz9mXjzR7fvJr7zr3wWebArNVq3mGKAFuP3Vwq-DrGBSXpDMla4KhUCk91G7kM2dy7ynnaD_NZEA5Q65QxmkPgZ-mTFZeKV4navIw4/s400/w3.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Reception </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmXZqq25YFsg49gtyiTXeMP2jS88b2zulUp5okWlCllNuQxvX0072L0J3t7SCcNbJVQL_Ajt_GNcSiXi9KGBLRvNYyBrnKIXudhNEEfh45W1KZdaD8tvaf1NOepwGvFzooxEY87_tueNb/s400/w5.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Stand-in Bride and her bridesmaids (+ us of course)</div></div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-43187653247936602962011-08-31T15:30:00.001-07:002011-08-31T16:21:12.825-07:00Ramadan<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">Well after 30 days of fasting, the month of Ramadan is coming to an end. The festivities started yesterday with the prayer outside of town in a large field. Then parties, lots of food, gifts and greeting people – barka de sallah. And things are not over yet – there’s still Fantasia tomorrow.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">Here are some photos from the first day :</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMg0Luyw_8hS4_r4dE9FH_3eIvdBm0FdPrgoMWvBWFVt1CY6t1yFWorGCU7hcTWiNo_AnBN2Jd_7GxCP2AHfW9MURMXFTFXlUKPQck_oE1Rd7X_TG-l9l6GVGe_hgvUwi0m-CydH2n3aY/s200/f2.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; ">Prayer</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; ">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbebT-1nIVq6ZMFriiG0ckkaR93_N2Ntq6LgICHlMDqFswlQI1YG8j8dTmR5kgV97aB-pGNaT7TgVly1bysWLuk_co6qLKQihNIu2LxyKrNZYJKINw5G3k2FsCkQExk1WrVisRBDISbyq3/s200/f4.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; ">After prayer... </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; ">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3z2VBkNpOm_7JAHIHcixpIKcDQWwEoxq3IZFVySgaf5RxKMZ5TZmHGRJvKP24FkRa-ti8hCB0vthw4av7m58svFpgD1C3tVU6YXb-UOKeyOSQjPM1YcHXFSQlQhch-3312BPekkW5tUG1/s200/f5.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; ">Friends at prayer</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; ">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9mLxPcnZhnrGfZeMVAocHGPyuu2sIoddESnCBXgbFteNlvh2ZYMgV64TRCSGPeChXScDXNb6D_5HGTBmkTDWfwioOlMbL4zcsbSK52koX_KkreenFwooj5l3EY1uAssswJbm12ZSxPXux/s200/f8.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; ">Hanging out with some neighbors</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj98gMmRtpr4O7SdW434g4lJ_zMX6G7t_mhNy7AJEHKxDDObgOTwjv1b39B3pRpBRZLc_Bo9RY1DkQuZ-nGQ0EMkCP1NVsOrbCM0U8vpBUwMZOv1neBXB_ksaAJC28l4wye32CyrAGIjsyG/s400/f99.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal; ">Another neighbor</p>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-50131985115313303452011-08-22T21:27:00.000-07:002011-08-22T21:38:51.185-07:00Home Décor<div style="text-align: left;">I still don’t quite understand people’s sense of style here and what’s considered nice, acceptable, etc. And my lack of understanding style here also applies to not just what people wear but how they decorate their homes. There seems to be a few basic essentials that most Cameroonians include in decorating their room or house. Here are some of the basics:</div> <p class="MsoNormal">fabric draped over the walls (in lieu of paint)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">fabric in every doorway even if there is a door</p> <p class="MsoNormal">placemate-like pieces of fabric for the sofa</p> <p class="MsoNormal">giant posters with either Arabic writing or half-naked couples hugging with the writing ‘Romance’</p> <p class="MsoNormal">fake flowers </p> <p class="MsoNormal">other various random decorations such stuffed animals, glamour-shot like photos, Christmas lights year round</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnK_6681qigcIfHli6TkCLd5WxCSIgiYc48UTi53PCfDDvBTz8qq-6-AKu70j20FKkEA__nTwELpSUptU_JKN2rtrQqY9NI4BDQwPeUt7uiHSrRYP0X31tMyP5iSdBpEyEf8_ZwZx9NGN_/s200/ho.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> Notice the fabric on the couch, the hanging various trinkets along the wall including an old balloon</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQN_hMmczhOjRXXWLNfYB-RPHZti-E1MUMRjzM1-ytJRO5AMXwFS18_1Yr5VJmLDzZlibn3PUecd0bU14BaFxvUHFSkKQq-AVFFnomeQufPCz0k1EKGcllnpx1mtNANvb-ZOYsdc9F89Yg/s200/ho1.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> Fabric everywhere, fake flowers on either side of TV, heart shaped pillows oh this is a male's room </p>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202068147275936123.post-63594968183383502022011-08-14T14:24:00.000-07:002011-08-14T14:50:21.695-07:00Games<div style="text-align: left;">In a place where Toys-R-Us and Walmart and all those other fabulous stores don’t exist and therefore don’t allow children to buy every possible toy they could want, children here have to be a bit more creative when it comes to playing games and having toys. There are a old school basics here like cards, marbles and a board game like Parcheesi but most of the time, children end up recycling things to make toys. Here are some of the most common games kids in my town play:</div><div style="text-align: left;">
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<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNSw6AEpMi7UAuwScXcSzuNz_LDNQeo6g5oFQ2R0bAYpaTN-f_FKDyDCl5PLPjSOLbVL4-ViC4jCQZdimk-uI0GB8umdd6KVrVLi_JO2RZos-1kWI6CnNCsE5alQpCw4d7Mewf9_qiY8ch/s200/g.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">An old tire and a stick - they run as they push the wheel with the stick </div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVSn6r1CMYf9FwTGB3soxcwubeTwx9qF6zphvCn7-AZGl-xGHQW40p0xwPPtgn1V3OyIPdzPr_tZ-k0FJYnzXSFrt1ysThpqmpIPDbIfVbjrq7_pAstvHO9kpgCJHqPopRl26KCPEBM56w/s200/g1.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Just about the only board game available in town </div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0oyY9hvADqPCaamhAz51c_svlUxiuIF2QNmWUPQv6ate1sxnhfJCOnnb3jMqul8vy1_Rz7II9HC_59uRgqlWl8NKu4jnUj6pteLDiRhlx74Bg0wQP47Jm1Q6CWPOFoRBlA7EF3NaLj5vb/s200/g4.jpg" /> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHznNXpw5r9C5luChr42vygDVzLP1-zMrzHXSYEg0xISgPpAMe9VA0YU3cPSDfViLv9YgFZBSTSm8W-ul4h4ZEwEo-oyhXseLVJHNAuIqqVcHbTDjC23-YsBxkD8-CfMHycvzJ-kysEQXQ/s200/g3.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Toy cars made from wood, old cans, rubber, etc</div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp1GZkj6Rhrx9ZbwrLAbCw9TykTF8Zij6ckLI5RCX7UCs2LJ1easqbiXw3pc13ogtoTMZYlh2qh7WXavJ7dCiX5AENPRV5e5yaFIAq1z6dLUd9TUjswPwiSrUGa2Ist6gkErwXN6-vVv84/s200/g2.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">A game kind of like tic-tac-toe</div>Kaitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06619425369345262991noreply@blogger.com0