Marching through February

I've heard talk lately of getting the wifi range at the hospital extended. This would mean wifi access in my apartment and at work in the OPD (Outpatient department). Good grief that would be nice. I say "would be" instead of "will be" because I doubt it'll happen (if it does happen while I'm here it will be nothing short of miraculous). Even though Prosper and Mrs. Bellosillo have both mentioned it, I've learned that everything in Africa is tentative up until the moment that it's already happened. I definitely miss that about home. Being able to take people at their word. It's not that everyone's a liar exactly, it's just that there's a lot of pipe dreams that people aren't willing to see through. I miss the feeling of progress. Africa feels like the land that improvement left behind. It's an odd potpourri of people with smart phones, chickens and goats roaming free, public urination, and shoddy African workmanship. Even if they had great building materials, technologies, etc, the human resources tend to thwart any benefit of material resources. A building made of the best materials is still a dump if it's not constructed well. And if a building isn't maintained? Don't even think about it lasting. The jungle overtakes civilization at an unbelievable rate. Probably part of this progress problem lies in the extreme corruption (especially in the education system), but I think the cultural view of work ethic here is pretty apathetic. That's not to say everyone's lazy. Work smart, not hard is a good model in this case. Except here people choose one or the other. Working "smart" means taking shortcuts (and bribes more than likely). Basically leaves working well out of the equation entirely. Working hard means that the person probably hasn't received enough education to land a "working smart" job. And working well still isn't necessarily a given. Either way, I look forward to returning to American soil where progress is taken for granted. Anyway, enough of the criticism, on to something more upbeat:

Yesterday I got up and did my usual morning routine: eat breakfast, download French vocabulary to study during work, check my emails, check the traps (usually I get more emails than mice), and get ready for work. I showed up to the clinic a little late (traffic was pretty bad in the 50 meters between my apartment and the clinic...   that's my story and I'm stickin to it). Anyway, I didn't need an excuse because there wasn't anyone there! Patients, employees, stray chickens - the clinic was totally empty! I wandered back to my apartment not sure what to do. I checked the date. February 11...   what could that mean? I saw one of the nurses and asked "Ou ont tout le monde?" which is my poor French rendition of "Where is everyone?". I literally asked where the entire world is, which I'm not sure is exactly correct. She replied "Sais pas quoi" - I don't know! I wandered some more and ran into another nurse. This one explained to me (in English) that it was a national holiday: National Youth Day. Not sure what that meant at the time, I asked for the Cliff's notes version. She told me "Just go up to Bongo Square (Yes, I know it sounds like it's straight out of Donkey Kong, but that's neither here nor there) and you'll see a big parade of all the preschoolers, primary schoolers, high schoolers, university students, gendarmes, police, nursing students, culinary arts students, underwater basket weaving students." (and she went on ad nauseum for effect. So much for the Cliff's notes thing.) Okay, I thought to myself, looks like I'm getting a day off. I am ok with this. I took off at a brisk walk for Bongo Square. In theory a taxi would have been faster, but it was still only 8:15 and every official event here has started at least two hours late. I didn't know what time this was scheduled to start but I figured that I would have plenty of time. In addition, I only had a 5,000 franc note, and trying to get change for 5,000 from a taxi driver is like asking a penguin to recite the Gettysburg Address - expecting way too much. I walked past a lot of people who had set up shop near the area of the parade, selling spaghetti and hard-boiled egg sandwiches, bonbons, chunks of beef(...?) out of metal pots, yogurt, etc. I made it up to the square and waited around for like an hour and a half. I finally meandered over to one of the grandstands and found a seat. There was a live band there from the University, which was pretty neat. They actually weren't half bad! I knew things were getting close to kickoff when the governor's convoy rolled up. The parade finally started after I heard the Cameroonian national anthem for the first time and we listened to some 30 minute pre-recorded speech over the loudspeaker. Actually I shouldn't say we listened, I should say the speech was played. It was so quiet that nobody realized what was going on, so the dull roar of about 1000 individual conversations drowned out the moving words (clearly no Gettysburg Address) I'm sure were being delivered by some Cameroonian bigshot. Maybe even the President...? During this speech the 2-year-old sitting next to me developed a fascination with ma casquette et mes lunettes de soleil (baseball cap n' sunglasses). We took some killer selfies. The first group to finally go was the "nursing care" students. This is an all-in-one term describing pre-preschool, preschool, and kindergarten. Ages 3-5. Their interpretations of marching were pretty comical. The uproarious laughter lasted for about 10 minutes. I think all in all easily 1500-2000 kids eventually walked by, herded past by plenty of stressed out teachers. After that I watched scads of primary schoolers walk by, singing some song about the President leading Cameroon to "emergence" (whatever that means). From the national anthem to this point it had been almost an hour and a half, and I was getting restless and hungry. I left the grandstand to get closer and take a few pictures, and made my way back toward the hospital buying some snacks here and there along the way (changed that 5,000 in a grocery store finally!). The rest of the day was spent taking a siesta, studying French, making dinner, and lifting weights at the gym. The holiday was definitely unexpected, but you won't hear any complaints here!

As this parade was going on I felt the tiniest spark of something that I can only compare to patriotism. Obviously for a Cameroonian it would probably be a lot stronger, but to me it was just a dope experience to see such a display of national pride. I haven't seen anything like it since I've been here. Of course I'm not turning my back on the colors that don't run, I will still love apple pie and baseball (and PB&J) no matter how many parades or other civic events I see. Don't get me started on the presidential candidates, but I still love MOST aspects of my country! It was simply a great opportunity to see how other people show their allegiance to the nation that's made them what they are, for better or for worse.

TL;DR Things at the hospital are progressing as usual. And when I say "progressing" I mean it's nearly at a standstill. Every step forward is met by countless obstacles, which I'm sure are a telephone-pole-sized thorn in the sides of the administration. Yesterday I was surprised by a national holiday which gave me a day off and an interesting way to spend part of it - watching a parade. It was a nice time to get some big stuff done: namely mopping my apartment. I ended up taking today off too, giving myself a much desired 4-day weekend.

Entrance to the Sunday market

Standard thoroughfare in the market

Chawarma stand. Some people might say to look for the s#*! on a spit. Not me of course :)

Crowds as far as the eye can see on parade day

I wear my sunglasses at night...

Converting  Cameroon to Giants fans one toddler at a time

The Rich, the Famous, the Expats

This last Sunday I made an impromptu trip to the beach. During my visit I met a really nice French couple (who both spoke English perfectly, as much as I could have used the French practice). All I wanted was for someone to keep an eye on my backpack, but they went the extra mile. They invited me to move my stuff into their cabana, and we talked and swam together for a while. I played a lawn game with them that was a little like a cross between bowling and throwing a stick. They even gave me a ride back to the main drag in Limbe, which was awesome of them! That was the first time I've been in an air conditioned car in 4 months - remarkably plush! Oh, to be an expat. I mean, 4 windows down, 70km/hr works, but only so well. A/C's the way to go. In talking to them I learned that my keen devotion to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches is quite a stereotypical "American" thing. They said that they've never tried one and it sounds repulsive to them. They don't know what they're missing! I'm really thankful that they extended such hospitality to me and let me crash their "party".

At the beach this time, the waves were much bigger than I've even seen them before! They were actually scary a couple times. There's a boogie board that seems to "live" at the beach, but the leash is long gone, so I either had to try and throw it over a big wave, hang on and get hammered, and/or let go and then have to slog back to the shore to get it. Diving under the waves with a leash would have been way easier! I managed to get a pretty good nasal flush a couple of times. I blew my nose Monday morning and could see a few grains of black sand, and later in the week when I cleaned my ears I noticed more. Maybe I could bring some black sand home and give a few vials to some people, as long as they don't have any qualms about me having smuggled it in my sinuses.

The work week has been extraordinarily mundane, except for getting a new outpatient registration book. Since that seems to be my fated job for the rest of my time here, I've been learning the pros and cons (mostly cons) of filling out this new book. It asks for much more information, which I have to hound the receptionist(s) to ask the patients for. Not super fun! The only good part about it is that it takes a LOT more time to fill out. This means less idle time which makes the time seem to pass by more quickly. Fortunately, I've seen the light with my job a little bit, and have conveniently redefined what "medical experience" means to me. Before, well...     Thursday, it consisted of hands-on stuff: giving injections, starting IV's, delivering babies, etc. Now I've kind of blurred the lines and am counting consultation interviews, physical exams, ordering lab tests, and prescribing meds. Taken as a whole, I've actually had quite a bit of relevant medical experience. I do spend a lot of time filling out that God-forsaken book, but I also have gotten to help the doctor out with a bunch of the previously listed things. It's not always as exciting as giving an injection, and I've still only done 2 IV's (not to mention I haven't witnessed a single delivery), but I'll take it for what it is. When not working I've been hitting the French hard. The past week I've probably spent an average of 2 hours per day studying. At this rate I'm hoping I will be semi-conversational by May! I also went to the gym a few times this week. Other than that, nothing remarkable has happened.

I'm a little bummed that I'll be missing the Super Bowl this year. Even if I did have a way of watching it, it starts at like 12:30 am on a Monday morning. I guess that'd be a good excuse to take a day off, but I don't think it's airing on any of the channels here in Africa. My team just missed making it in, but still, it's an American tradition for pity sakes! I'd even eat an entire bowl of guacamole during the game if it made the difference between seeing it or not seeing it, and I hate guacamole.

I know I spend an inordinate amount of time talking about food on my blog post, but this weekend I really have some lofty cooking aspirations. I decided I want to make grilled cheese for dinner tonight. That meant I had to go buy sliced bread (I've only ever bought French baguettes before, sliced bread in "loaves" isn't common here) and cheese, which is also hard to come by (read: expensive). The cheese wasn't gonna keep and I wouldn't need it all for grilled cheese, so I plan to make a cheese omelet tomorrow for breakfast. I only used like 6 slices of bread, leaving me with leftovers of that too, so I decided on French toast for Sunday's breakfast instead of the usual pancakes. That meant I had to buy milk and eggs this afternoon. Well, French toast wouldn't use up all the milk, so I bought cereal too for later this week. Wanting a grilled cheese sandwich (or 3) turned into buying a freakin boatload of groceries. Funny how that works. I have to carefully plot out my meals based on what I'm planning to buy so that nothing goes to waste. I don't have a fridge, though I've been known to sneak things into the fridge they use in the hospital for drugs from time to time. I only leave it in there overnight though because I'm afraid it will get eaten or thrown out! I know for certain that when I'm back in the U.S. I'll never take kitchen appliances for granted again. Having a refrigerator, dishwasher, garbage disposal, heck, even a toaster oven, is a serious luxury! These things are all technically available in Cameroon, but I only have 2 outlets in my room, and the price tends to favor ownership by the rich and famous. Or expats. I guess maybe there's no difference. Anyway, I don't see the point in shelling out $400 for a dorm sized fridge that I'll just have to turn around and sell again in a few short months. That means I either have to go shopping for fresh food every couple days OR suck it up and eat that overripe banana that has the consistency of Vaseline. Also foods with a lot of preservatives are definitely a lifesaver. I honestly don't know what I'd do without peanut butter. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to survive.

TL;DR I went to the beach. Again. Got so caught up making new friends that I didn't get any photos. Later on the week kind of ambled along, nothing too exciting happened. I'm missing the SuperBowl this year, and although the Seahawks aren't in it, I'm still somewhat disappointed to not be able to see it. I went on the grocery shopping trip/scavenger hunt of a lifetime today, and it all started with a hankerin' for some grilled cheese sandwiches. They turned out better than I expected, and I'm hoping the French toast planned for Sunday meets or exceeds my expectations too.

Keeping the doctor's seat warm, interpreting a lab test

I never knew that laundry water got this dirty until I started doing laundry by hand

Rainbow fish has a reptilian cousin?

Employee productivity is at an all time high.

This cow was just chillin across the street from the hospital. Not tied up or anything.

Fatty Foods and Fingerprints

Overall this week was a good one. I got to play squash again (this time I did a lot better!), as well as attend another "ping pong" night at the Harris' house. Last week I broke my New Year's resolution of not working out (figure if I'm gonna break them anyway, I should make resolutions that I'm better off breaking). I gave an injection this week, and worked on a monthly report. Still have been doing consultation interviews here and there too. I'm hoping to get a lesson from the head nurse on sterilizing the instruments at some point soon, seems like that's an easy-ish job that I could do. We only use instruments for circumcisions and deliveries, since the hospital OR is not O right now. So I think the sterilization machine is only run once every week or two. Literally anything other than paperwork sounds like a great time to me right now. Didn't go anywhere "exciting" this week, so the picture-highlight reel is short (and mostly of food)

I went months without seeing a cockroach until this past week, during which I nabbed 10. 8 of those were in the span of 48 hours. Actually, most of them were supine and dead or dying so "nabbed" is overly complimentary. Three I had to mash, and one was conveniently already in the bottom of my trash can (a brown paper grocery sack) scrounging around, so I just sprayed him with insecticide. Anyway, that was puzzling to me that I would go for so long without seeing them and get 8 all of a sudden! Also a little curious as to what's killing them. Fingers crossed that whatever it is isn't also slowly killing me. The insecticide smells so strong it could probably kill a horse, so I always turn on the fan and open the windows after I use it.

The positive side to my job is that it gives me a LOT of time to think. I've come up with some wild schemes, but lately this one is the best. People talk about obesity problems in the U.S., but I've discovered that Cameroonians enjoy their fair share of unhealthy, salty, oily foods too. Obesity, hypertension and diabetes are absolutely rampant here. I would say they're probably as common as in the U.S. Buea has a University with an enrollement of 12,000+ students who are relatively well off and adventurous eaters. In Molyko, the district where UB is situated, there are a handful of restaurants, but most of them are your typical shack (no health inspections here as far as I know!) that serve the same exact same menu of ~5 dishes (while supplies last) as the place next door to them. Lots of banks and offices are in Molyko, so people always have a reason to go to that area, and it's always crowded when I'm there. Cameroon doesn't have a single fast food franchise and I've been craving Taco Bell since I got here. My diabolical plot is to open a McDonald's franchise smack across the street from UB, and watch the people and profits stampede in. The nearest McDonald's franchise is in Sudan so it'd be the only golden arches for miles and miles. Douala's a port city though, so it shouldn't be too hard to get shipments here.  In the process of opening up a fast food joint I'll probably shut down every restaurant within 2 km of me. I have no doubt that Cameroonians will flock to the place. Imagine all the students craving a quick lunch at a place where the menu has 50+ items all the time instead of "Glory DJ Obama Snack Bar" (a made-up name, but a good representation) which runs out of plantains, beans, and chicken by 2pm. I bet people would make a trip from Douala just for a Big Mac. On McDonald's opening day in Kuwait in 1994, the drive thru line was 7 miles long, I'm sure I could expect a similar outcome with my venture. Honestly it wouldn't even have to be a McDonald's. I'm sure KFC or Long John Silver's would do very well here too. It's cheap food (actually for the average Cameroonian, it'd probably be mid-ranged) that offers everything they want: Salt, fat, and cholesterol galore. Not to mention it would be efficient and consistent - more than you can expect from Obama (oops, I mean "Glory DJ Obama"). Plus, the novelty of eating at a "famous" American restaurant would be a draw factor too, I'm sure. A vegetarian opening a McDon's in Africa. Crazy? Or entrepreneur of the year? We may never know.

As much as my harebrained ideas occupy my mind, I've found that my attention to detail has sharpened some as well. I was talking to my parents on the phone about the latest care packages that got here (a month after Christmas, when I was intended to receive them, but that's beside the point). I was mentioning how even if nobody put their names on the boxes, I could probably still guess who they're from just by the way they're packed. Fingerprints, if you will. I explained it all to them, and my Dad said "That sounds like good material for a blog post". The rest is history. Their calling card is wrapping everything in a big plastic trash bag, just to protect it from weather, and spills from the inside I guess. The Barlows (family friends) have sent me several care packages, and they seem to fit an impossible number of things into the boxes they send. They use about 100 Ziploc bags to individually seal everything that could potentially leak (I definitely save the bags and reuse 'em). Some differences are more subtle, but give me even more information about the senders. For instance, my family swears by Kirkland while the Barlows seem to do a lot of shopping at Target. This makes sense when I think about it because they have a Target like a mile away from their house. The Student Missions department uses pouches instead of boxes, but they have their idiosyncrasies too: Lots of candy, the occasional article of clothing, and warm fuzzy notes from friends at WWU (thanks guys!). I've gotten packages from other people too, and every box has its "signature move". I especially enjoy getting things that my family never buys. I love trying new things, which is kinda how I ended up in Africa to begin with. Then there are the things I can't explain. Like why one bag of Cheez-Its will be completely pulverized, but the one directly next to it in the box is filled with totally intact crackers. The smashed ones aren't always the ones closest to the outside either, it's completely up to chance. These fingerprints are one of many reasons I like getting care packages. I see fingerprints in other places too. Like the doctor's wife accidentally leaving her keys and/or cell phone everywhere. I know when the drug cabinet's open behind me in the office because it smells like something died in there. I can usually guess the age and gender of a kid just by measuring the intensity and duration of their crying after receiving a vaccination (Record for intensity and duration goes to a 8 year old girl. Typically infants cry intensely, but not for very long. 3 year old boys don't cry hard but they blubber for a long time. 6 year old boys are a wild card).

When I look really hard I can see the Creator's fingerprints here in this place too. And no, this is not me plagiarizing a Steven Curtis Chapman song. I'm talking less about sappy affection for people and more about the small stuff. The huge variety of fresh fruits and vegetables here for instance. Designing all those colors, shapes, and flavors must have taken some real originality! There are amazingly beautiful flowers here too, sometimes I'll be walking down the road and just have to stop and admire them for a minute. Seems like I'm always without my camera when these moments happen, but maybe it's better that way. Less to be distracted by. At any rate, sometimes I have to force myself, but I never regret trying to see things through the eyes I had when I got here. When everything was new and exciting. Before I became cynical about corruption and mismanagement. It's refreshing to just take a break and appreciate the small things (and big things that I don't notice as much anymore). I know this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so I'm trying to enjoy as many minutes as I can.

TL;DR The week was fine. Had some good cooking, package receiving, and even one or two slightly medically related experiences. Chased cockroaches, schemed about introducing Cameroon to the golden arches, and pondered the nuances of care packages. I'm taking it a day at a time here and trying to remember to appreciate the things I appreciate, and forget about the things I don't appreciate.

Made a new friend. He's a little fruity but we get along fine.

Tuesday night - Pad Thai featuring peanut butter. First time making it. Wasn't restaurant quality but it was something new! Going to tweak the recipe a little bit in the coming weeks.

Thursday night - Gumbo turned out pretty nice

In Buea, the term "while supplies last" is a very real thing. Can't be scared to pull the trigger on 3 jars of peanut butter because it could be gone in a month, or it could be gone tomorrow.

Locked Up

Last Saturday I went to prison. Buea's prison is the central prison for the Southwest region. The prison's capacity is only 300, but the population is 850 (851 counting me I guess). From what most of the other inmates have told me, 90% of them are serving time for petty crimes (theft mostly). Of course there are murderers, rapists, and other really bad people, but most of the inmates aren't hardened criminals. I mean, I wouldn't let them babysit my hypothetical children, but I wouldn't let most people do that anyway. And of course, even outside of the prison, people are always trying to con me and get money from me, because I'm "so rich". A lot of the people have served 10 or 15 year sentences just for petty theft. In the French system, you're guilty until proven innocent, or until you post bail. Bail isn't the right word, because you pay it and then you're free to go, you don't have to return to stand trial. More of a fine I guess. Most of the guys don't have that kind of money, so some have been locked up for 2 years and haven't even had a trial yet. Sure would free up a lot of room if they sentenced based on severity of the crime. In prison, money talks. One guy bribed the guards and got a cell phone into the prison, where he kept in touch with his outside friends and family. Later he was advised to surrender it, and when he refused, he was locked in solitary. He can bribe guards to let him out though, which I think is pretty funny. The Catholic mission prepares food inside the facility, but it isn't great. Most of the inmates have family members who bring food some of the time at least. The prison also lets in vendors that sell bananas, ground nuts, etc. Actually there's even a restaurant run by a prisoner, and the food is supplied by outsiders (there's also a barbershop, and some textile industries like making reusable shopping bags) so prisoners can earn some money. You have to pay a "cell tax" to sleep on a mattress in cell blocks that hold 150+ prisoners at night. The more you pay, the better your sleeping conditions, but nothing's super great. Bedbugs and lice are very common. There's a women's ward with 25 inmates, as well as a juvenile hall that's dark and dingy compared to the men's block. Actually the first thing I saw upon entering was a big courtyard where about 20 guys were playing a pick-up game of soccer.

The good news is: I'm not actually serving a sentence, although I was serving in one regard. Ever since she arrived, Nadia, the Australian volunteer here, has been doing prison ministry on behalf of the SDA church. She asked me to come play guitar for one of the services and I agreed. I thought it was fascinating, as you might have gathered from my description. I had so many questions, most of which were answered either by inmates after the service, or Nadia on the way back. I never ever pictured myself playing guitar in a prison when I first learned I was going to Cameroon, but God has used me in mysterious ways here. I'd say this is pretty high up there on the scale of mysteriousness. The guitar was really popular. Cameroonians are all pretty musically inclined; they have a good sense of rhythm at least (the stuff they play on the radio here is garbage, but that's true for the States too). As far as melody, well let's just say I've accompanied some singers who end in a different key than they start. Anyhow, as we were waiting to be let in to the prison to start the church service, one of the guards (who was probably my age or younger) asked in a heavy French accent if he could "test the guitar". He played for 15 or 20 minutes, and the smile on his face was worth it all. I got his picture, but when we were getting ready to go in, they took our phones and my camera as well. On the inside, after church, the guitar was passed around between a handful of inmates, who were really excited to play the few chords they knew. It always surprises me how many people here know enough to play one song at least. It's also really cool to see how music, in its most reduced form, transcends all cultures and languages. Everybody appreciates it, and it was a cool way to form a connection with people with whom I would otherwise have very little in common. I really wish I could have taken pictures of what we did inside, but I guess that's not in the cards! At any rate, I'm planning on making it a semi-regular thing to go play there for Sabbath, just to kind of keep things interesting.

Over the past few weeks my Monday's have kind of sucked. I think it has something to do with having good weekends, and then going back to my lame job on Mondays. Candidly, it's boring and unfulfilling. I mean, guitar in a prison and climbing a mountain vs. paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. It's always a reality check that my job here isn't what I had hoped. It's hard for me, because I feel like most of my life I've chased the feeling that I'm making a difference. I've done all kinds of stuff, even worked at summer camp, longing for this feeling that I'm changing lives or helping people. Nothing. I chased the feeling halfway across the world, hoping to feel SOMETHING, but I still haven't. I sit for hours and fill records. I'm not saying all this to get pity, just demonstrating that there's an element of suck to being an SM and not everything is terrific and all the time. Don't get me wrong, I'm having fun here outside of work, and I'm learning a lot about a new culture, learning some of a new language, traveling around, working out at the gym, but my job here has not been very inspiring lately. The worst part is that I don't feel like my experience in the hospital has affected anyone here but me. I guess that's why I'm hoping to get more involved in the prison ministry. Still chasing that elusive feeling. Eventually I'll either find it or give up I guess. Usually as the week gets more busy, my mood improves as life gets more interesting. At any rate, last Monday all of this was swirling around and I needed something to do to clear my head so I went and explored a part of Buea that I'd never seen before. I found an almost completely empty, brand new shopping mall that was strange and interesting. Later on in the week, I went to hang out with my American missionary friends and played ping pong, ate pineapple fried rice, and had some stimulating discussion on our different beliefs. I got some great, late Christmas gift care packages that really brightened my week. And the small supermarket in Buea got a huge new shipment of food so I went and stocked up on enough peanut butter to frost the moon about a centimeter deep. Also grabbed more pancake syrup and found brown rice which I just had to have! If the stock holds out, there was more great stuff there that I couldn't afford this week. Like I said, the week kind of builds up as it progresses.

Outside the abandoned shopping mall. I actually didn't think it was open until I saw someone else go in

All I could think about was playing airsoft here with a bunch of people. It would be off the chain!

Believe it or not, this is directly across the street from the giant, new mall. An extremely busy, and not so clean market. Markets are a really interesting experience, a brazen assault on all the senses. 

Dr. Bellosillo and his wife left for Yaounde again on Tuesday so I've been in charge of the newly implemented time in/out book. I don't so much mind people knocking on my door to sign in and out every time there's a shift change, but I have to watch carefully to make sure they don't fudge on the times (which they always try).  The crowning moment of excitement this week occurred when Dr. James had to go to Douala on Thursday to take an English proficiency test. Since he and Dr. Bellosillo would be gone that day, I knew that zero was gonna happen at the hospital, so I opted to go to Douala with him. We left early in the morning, and got to the place for him to take his test an hour and a half early. I didn't want to wait for him there, so I left and did my shopping, and explored a new area some. I went and looked at menus at 2 different restaurants, intending to return and eat at one of them for lunch, but Dr. James called to meet me, and when we met he had a bee in his bonnet to get back to Buea. We were back by lunchtime, which was a little disappointing, but it saved me money for sure! Next time I won't go with him and hopefully I'll get the chance to try one of these restaurants. And have some time to stop and take a few more photos!

"Roundpoint" in Douala. A very congested interchange, exacerbated by private cars parked in the road soliciting rides back to Buea or Limbe. Don't know the story on the giant metal guy in the middle

Shopping in a supermarket is something I'll never take for granted again. Not to say it still won't drive me nuts. I was talking to myself unashamedly as I agonized over everything I put in my basket and tallied the cost. Definitely got some looks.

Bottling plant just down the street from Super U

TL;DR I got put in jail Saturday morning. Actually I went to play for a church service as part of the SDA prison ministry here. This week started out pretty rough, and then as things got more interesting, it got better. Packages came, I went to Douala (although not for as long as I would have liked), and I hung out with some Americans and played ping pong. It was actually a pretty good week overall.

This delivery...    trucktorcycle(?) comes to the clinic every day to distribute pre-cooked meals. Whoever came up with the idea is making a killing I'm sure. Sadly they're never vegetarian, so I stick to PB&J.

Desperate temperatures call for desperate measures. I sleep in sweats regardless of the heat to protect my ankles from bug bites in the night (some bugs fit through the mosquito net holes!) 

This is what brand new socks look like after 2 days of being worn. At least there aren't holes yet!

Summit Experience

Well the Mount Cameroon trip was a success! I got to the agency's office at 7:30 on Friday morning, where I met Doris, a 40-something German woman who's touring Africa on her motorcycle and decided to spend a month here in Cameroon. Cool lady. She came on the hike with us, along with Dave (the Irishman), as well as David (my German workout buddy), Carsten and Benedikt (German volunteers for Camwater) and Jonas, who was visiting from Germany. All the Germans were fluent in English, but I definitely heard a whole lot of German on the trip! While the porters packed the backpacks we supplied, we went to a place nearby to get breakfast of spaghetti omelette sandwiches. They sound weird but they're high in carbs and protein, which was just the ticket! After we got back to the office, the porters were packed, and each of us was rationed a bunch of bananas, an avocado, and a bottle of water to carry in our backpacks. I also brought some snacks from home: Chocolate, dried fruit, and applesauce. We met Hans, our mountain guide. He's 60 years old and this was his 227th trip on the mountain. A Toyota Hilux (first time riding in one, definitely a highlight) took us, our gear, and the porters to the trailhead, where we took a minute to learn everyone's names. Then we headed up.

Most of the crew that climbed

At first, we stopped frequently for Hans to point out different plants. As we gained altitude, we went from farmland, to secondary forest (crops among the natural forest), to primary forest. Hans showed us plants used to treat conjunctivitis, prostate cancer, and smallpox. The guy was a walking plant dictionary basically. He also turned out to be really good at identifying birds, which reminded me of my biology teacher in academy. We took a quick detour to check out the catchment system that the Camwater guys were working on. After 3 hours of easy hiking through the forest, we reached Hut 1 and had lunch. Everyone got 1 baguette, and we worked on our bananas and avocados.
For the next leg of the hike, we exited the forest and spent 4 1/2hours climbing an agonizing 35% grade. No switchbacks, just straight up the side of the mountain. No shade, no places to sit, just burnt savanna grass and loose rocks. It wasn't much consolation to see the porters panting by carrying 20+kg of stuff while I could barely manage the 7-8 kilos in my backpack. We reached the intermediate hut at some point and rested for 20 minutes. For the first 20 minutes after our rest I didn't paced myself too well, and it came back to bite me. I fell behind everyone but Doris and Hans. It got to the point where I had to rest every 10-15 steps. My legs felt like flaming jello. Numerous false ridges destroyed my hopes that we'd ever reach camp. I plodded around a corner, beyond exhausted, to find "Hut 2" 10 meters in front of me. It was a sorry excuse for a hut, basically just a metal roof and a concrete slab. I immediately sat and took my shoes off. Later, David and I set up the tent we were sharing, and the porters made dinner of spaghetti and tomato sauce. The chilly, dry wind was way different than I'm used to in Cameroon, and was actually pretty nice. We gained 1900 meters that day, hiking 10 km in 7 hours. We were ready for bed by 8:30 pm. The wind was blowing the tent flaps around and I didn't sleep well. At 11 I woke up to go to the bathroom and watch the stars for a while, which was an awesome sight. I could also see the lights of Buea way below us.

Several runners training for the Mt. Cameroon Race of Hope (sponsored by none other than Guinnes)

Great view from Upper Farms

Doris and David enjoying the waterfall

The porters take a break at Hut 1

Out of the forest and into the burnt savanna. Headed straight up!

Germans checking how far we've come

The porters cooking dinner at Hut 2

The next morning we were woken up WAY before the buttcrack of dawn for a long day ahead. Breakfast was 1 hardboiled egg, a baguette with "condiments" (Nutella, cream cheese, or jam), and tea. Not particularly hearty, but it was good. The meal plan had a definite pattern, see if you can figure it out. We were in a hurry to get started, but on his way to breakfast in the dark, Carsten twisted his ankle. As the closest thing to a medical professional, I was the designated provider of first aid. I first made sure he could move his foot to know that it wasn't broken. He said he had heard it pop, so my next theory was a sprain. I had him elevate it as soon as he could, and gave him some kind of NSAID to prevent swelling. After wrapping it, I had him lie there for a while. The porters were drawing straws at this point to decide who would accompany him down the same way we came. He was frustrated to have to turn back, and I'm sure it was a tough hike down. We left an hour late so we were in a hurry to make up time. We spent 5 hours climbing more steep grades and false ridges to the summit. The altitude didn't bother me too much, I wasn't out of breath, just everything from my knees to my hips hurt like crazy. My head was swimming and drowsy, but that was soon replaced by abdominal discomfort. Not sure if I had eaten too much chocolate along the way, had a bad egg, or just overexerted myself, but it slowed me down quite a bit. We reached the summit later than we hoped (12:15 or so), and all I really was thinking about was where and when we'd get lunch. The view from the top wasn't spectacular and we were running behind schedule, so we basically took photos and left for the lunch spot which ended up taking another hour to reach. During the first 4 hours of our descent I had diarrhea 4 times. That worried me because it was as far to turn back as to forge ahead. Fortunately it went away, but I think the loss of fluids and nutrients really depleted my already low energy. After a lunch of baguettes with condiments and pineapple, we spent several hours crossing a tough (but relatively level at least) lava flow and then 2 hours later hiked past some cinder cones that were, in my opinion, way more interesting than the top. Each day we probably went through 4 or 5 ecologically distinct areas which was super cool. We walked and walked, and finally made it to camp 2, where we were to spend our second night. When we got there I lay down immediately and didn't move for a solid 20 minutes. I was stiff as a board, and my knees felt like steamrolled marshmallows from the descent. That day we ascended 1200 meters, descended another 1700 meters, and walked a total of 11 km. We were on the trail for 10 hours. Dinner was rice and spicy vegetable "sauce" which was good, but I tried to take it easy on the sauce, not knowing if it would cause me any more gastric trouble. I slept much better that night. We were in the trees so the wind wasn't as strong.

Hans looking ahead, what a pose!

The view from the summit

This hike was NOT for the faint of heart! This picture represents a lot of pain, suffering, and determination (as evidenced by the poor excuse for a smile on my face). I didn't know what I was getting into, but I'm proud that I made it!

Barren wasteland in the rain shadow. We started pretty much at the highest point you can see in the photo and came down the moraine just to the left of the leftmost tan hill

Awesome views of the craters. There were 11 individual cones caused by this eruption

Craters of 1999. We got to go up and look down into most of the craters. David even found and picked up about half a dozen sulfur crystals

At times it felt like we were on a different planet.

The common dining area for our accomodations on night 2. Would you believe 5 stars?

Still not sure how David is still on his feet at this point

We "slept in" until 6am and got up to a breakfast of, you guessed it: baguettes, 1 egg, tea, and condiments. We hiked through the jungle for 1 hour which was thick and vines seemed to trip us or hit us in the face. We spent another hour and a half in unshaded, rocky, savanna grasses eventually reaching the jungle again. We kept descending down loose rocks, overgrown vines and steep terrain. This whole time I was wearing shorts which I really regret. I was beat to hell, and the others looked about as good. Nobody complained much but I think we were all ready to be home. Lunch was (predictably) baguettes, condiments, and pineapple. We eventually started seeing crops, a sign that we were getting close, and the trail turned into a well traveled path, which turned into a road. Soon enough we were in Buea again, after covering 7 km and 800 vertical meters in 8 hours. I got home at 5 pm, took a much needed shower, ate a huge dinner, and sacked out.

David and Benedict appreciating the savanna that wasn't burnt

Mt. Etinde in the shadow. At the time of the picture we were actually 500 m above the summit. If I saw this picture and didn't know any better, I'd guess that it was taken about 45 minutes away from my house in California

Lava flow from 1982

All told I'm glad I did it, but I was also glad when it was finally finished! The top was obligatory but not particularly interesting. I found all the ecological diversity to be more exciting, as well as the craters from the 1999 eruption. I think I can say that it was the hardest hike I've ever done, the only possible exception being my hike from Yosemite Valley to the top of El Capitan with only 2 liters of water. This was my first multi-day hike though, so after a hard day of hiking, I piled more hurt on the next day. That was a new experience for me. Fortunately I recovered within about 2 days excepting for the blister.
On Wednesday this week I got a temporary roommate. He's a Rwandan (Hutu) doctor who escaped the Rwandan genocide when he was 7. He's from the Union, and he's staying til Tuesday. Nice enough guy, pretty talkative even though he's a Francophone. We've been practicing our weaker language on each other, so I talk to him in broken French and he replies in broken English. It's pretty pitiful, but we have fun. I'm stoked because the hospital got my bunk bed fixed for him to sleep there, so once he leaves I may move to the bottom bunk.
TL;DR I hiked my dogs off over the weekend. It was hard, rewarding, and I'm glad it's over. Pictures below. Recap: 28 km, 26 hours of hiking, 3100 meters up, 3300 meters down, and lots and lots of baguettes with "condiments". I have a Rwandan flatmate 'til Tuesday.

A Peek at the Peaks of the Week

Whenever I check up on my blog, my favorite thing to do is look at the "audience statistics" page. It shows what countries I'm getting hits from. Obviously the U.S. is on there a lot, but I have people checking in from all over! A lot of times I see the country and can guess who's on the other side of the screen: Uganda, Malawi, Ghana, France, South Korea, and Micronesia are all countries where I have friends and family, but other times I think Who the heck do I know in Uruguay? Or Russia, Ireland, Poland, the UK, South Africa, and the list goes on. That said, if you're browsing from some unfamiliar country, post up a comment and check in, I'd love to know who you are and what you do there! Even if you don't "know" me outside of just reading my blog, I'm stoked on learning more about my audience. Specially if you're the Russian mafia, in which case I gotta start covering my tracks ;)

On Sunday I had a relaxing beach day in Limbe. I found a boogie board that the beach just has there for people to use, so I had fun catching waves for about 2 hours. After that I walked around the town for probably 2 more hours and I think I got a little sunstroke because my memory of that part was fuzzy even by that night. All I know is I ended up with souvenirs that I don't remember who I had in mind to receive. I neglected to reapply sunscreen after my swim in the ocean, so I got fried really bad. Surprisingly enough, that's the first serious sunburn I've gotten since being here! Took some aspirin and drank a lot of water  that night and felt fine by the next day. For dinner I ate at the zoo restaurant for the second time and ordered a grilled cheese, tomato, and pesto sandwich. That part of the day is still quite vivid in my mind, and my mouth's watering again just writing about it.

On Monday after work I went to the gym. When I was leaving I turned around to try and positively ID an owl I had seen hunting earlier (either a Barn Owl or African Grass Owl). I didn't see the owl, but the side of the mountain caught my eye. It was clear enough that evening that I could see thin glowing ribbons winding their way down the mountain. They've been burning the trail in preparation for the yearly mountain race. Knew my camera wouldn't take a good enough picture so I just stared for long enough to etch the image in my mind.

Tuesday was pretty cool because I got to pick my first vein! The patient had nice veins and needed an IV injection, so I asked Samuel to let me try. It went well. The guy came back Wednesday and I had to poke him twice, but did it again. The doctor has been letting me do consultation interviews too so that's made things a little more interesting. Seems like more often than not there's nursing interns running all over the place, 9 or 10 at a time. Another crop just showed up for a 6 week stint. Truth is they get on my nerves. I guess when there's 15 people on rounds it just seems a little ungainly. Kinda smarmy little gals too. Always trying to get me to learn all their names. Like there's 10 of you, and every time I figure it out you all get new weaves. Not to mention the 35 others who've come and gone since I've been here. I'm tired of wasting my time, and besides, they'll be gone in February and a new batch will show up.

I think the holidays have slowed the mail service a lot! I've checked and checked, but kept getting disappointed lately. Until Tuesday I had had a 3 week dry spell, all the more aggravating was the knowledge that there were a number of packages in purgatory somewhere between the U.S. and here. I went to the Post Office on Tuesday expecting another disappointment, but was surprised to find one small box! It may have been small but it put a big smile on my face! On the way home I noticed a supermarket I'd never seen before - turns out they just opened a week ago. A quick look showed that they carry applesauce, granola, sterilized milk (which tastes funny but it's better than dry cereal), chocolate chip cookies, and a few other items that I can't find anywhere else in Buea! You have no idea how much of a treat cereal and milk is after 3 months of eggs, hashbrowns, and oatmeal for breakfast! My money situation isn't real luxurious, and I pretty much blew my budget for the week, but it was definitely worth the morale boost.

On Wednesday night I went  and played squash with my German friend David. It's a lot like racquetball, but different enough that I feel like I would be better off not having played either one before. For one thing the ball's a lot smaller and not very bouncy. It's like playing with a hacky sack almost. The racquet is smaller too. Serving was my weakest area, and David won 5 out of the 5 rounds we played. I wasn't much of a challenge for him, but I had a good time, and he seemed to anyway. During a rest, he told me of his plans to climb Mt. Cameroon with the rest of the guys that went to Kumba. The 3 day trip starts tomorrow at 7am...        and they want me to come so that the price will be less per person. The price IS really competitive, and climbing it with acquaintances seems like it's worth the extremely short notice. I himmed and hawed and eventually decided what the heck, let's do this thing! Everything's kind of fallen into place within the last 24 hours. Seems like a pretty big thing to undertake so impulsively, hopefully I don't regret it!
This morning I at least went with David and paid, and tried to get all the accommodations taken care of (porter, food, sleeping bag, tent, etc.). Fortunately I had money saved specifically for this type of a trip, so I didn't blow my budget for the week AND for the month in the span of 3 days! At any rate, that's the reason you're getting this post a day early, because tomorrow morning will find me charging up 4,000-something meters of the tallest active volcano on the African continent! Wish me luck! And look forward to pictures of the experience next week.

Later today I went to the post office again and the floodgates have opened! There were 6 package slips in the mailbox! It costs me ~$4 per package to receive them, and I only had enough cash on hand to get 3, so I'm going back on Monday or Tuesday next week!

TL;DR It's been a wild and woolly week! Sunday I went and boogie boarded in the Atlantic, and ate some fantastic grub. Tuesday I picked my first vein, and was fighting the doldrums some until a package showed up and brightened my day. Wednesday I picked my second vein (same pincush...    err, patient), and tried playing squash for the first time ever. During squash, I decided to accompany my German friends on a 3 day backpacking trip with 36 hours to prepare for our departure. Today has been spent writing this, opening late Christmas packages, and frantically packing/carbo-loading.

The face of relaxation

Lilies at the tributary near Etisah Beach

Obligatory food photo.

Action packed dinner show. Complete with chest thumping and displays of dominance

I hope someday I do something worth a statue that makes me look like half the stud this guy must have been

Left-over Roadkill Casserole

This week's entry is a collection of fresh and semi-fresh paragraphs that I've written that just didn't seem to fit anywhere in previous entries (hence the title). Some of the thoughts are half-baked or of questionable palatability. Highlights and lowlights of the week were the staff Christmas party, indigestion from the staff Christmas party, working extended holiday hours filling in for someone, watching a LOT of movies by  myself, and spending Christmas evening eating and playing ping-pong with American friends. Nothing noteworthy enough of filling an entire blog entry, so instead enjoy this steaming heap of miscellany (sans photos this week, sorry).

The other day I was flipping through channels on the waiting rooms and found an episode of American Pickers. It's one of my favorite shows (behind Love it or List it) so I stopped to  watch. It didn't take me long at all to realize that it was dubbed over in French! Not sure why, but it just struck me as funny that that show would have any appeal to people who aren't from the U.S. I guess it's especially odd in Africa, where people have so few possessions, to imagine them watching a TV show where guys go to houses and dig through piles, even buildings full of stuff that people hoard! Quite a dichotomy.

Turns out making friends here is hard. Let me rephrase that: Making authentic friends here is hard. By no fault of my own, my white skin shows up to Cameroonians as dollar signs. Often times total strangers come up and are nauseatingly friendly, offering to take me places, wanting to meet again within the first 10 minutes of talking with them. Usually I see it coming and evade them, although it's difficult and awkward to blow them off or refuse when they ask for my phone number (I've actually told people I don't know my phone number). Girls will bat their eyelashes and make conversation. Eventually they get to the hard hitting questions though: Are you married? Do you have a girlfriend? Their intentions are obvious enough. Sometimes I fib a little and allude to having girlfriend. Makes things easier, and my conscience is clear. My future may be brighter than theirs, but my current situation isn't all that affluent: In the U.S. I don't have money, I owe money! Why do they think I left in the first place? (Joking, but also kind of not joking). Also worth small mentioning is the disparity in the cost of living here vs. in the U.S. Back when I still liked country music, there was a popular song about how you find out who your friends are. I didn't realize it until coming here, but that song has markedly shaped the way I define a friend. Somebody who's willing to drop everything to help you, expecting nothing in return, save for the knowledge that you'd do the same for them. I think the underlying issue is (not my past appreciation for country music, but) that few see me as a person just like them. I'll raise my hand and say I've done the same to others. Not proud of it, but now that I know how much it sucks, I'm working on it. There's one particular storeowner near the hospital whose name I don't even know. I'd call him a "friend". At least, our relationship is clearly defined. I enjoy talking with him, and I sometimes buy things. I'm a customer. He's a business owner. He's said before that he has nothing to offer me because he doesn't have the means. I like learning from him about Cameroon, he likes learning from me about America. It's simple: no games, no hidden agendas, no strings attached. He's the type of person I'd do a favor for because I like him. I imagine he might do the same for me. It's a start. Of course I trust my superiors at the hospital, and my coworkers to an extent, but outside of that and some other foreigners I've met, there aren't many friends to be had. It's discouraging, even heartbreaking at times, but it's something I'm coming to terms with. You really can't put a price on friendship. But boy, they're gonna keep trying.

I've noticed that around the holidays the taxi drivers here have gone from generally dislikable to total jerkwads. It's been impossible to flag a taxi, even empty ones wouldn't even stop to see where I'm going. The ones that did pulled over ask obscenely high prices to take me anywhere. Took 20 minutes to get a taxi to the Harris's place on Christmas Eve (for 400 francs - two people's fares basically), and I straight up had to walk all the way back from church this week. The few drivers I've ridden with lately have been quite unpleasant. My theory is that since it's Christmastime they feel deserving of some sort of a "Christmas bonus" and as such are self-entitled to charge extortionate prices. Kinda sucks the joy out of Christmas.

I'm toying with the idea of writing my daily journal entries by hand this month, just for fun. To see if it makes my journaling better or worse, or just different. I'll probably jot down less than I'd type, since typing's way quicker. I also would miss the ability to go back and edit and reedit all the time if I wrote by hand. I do that a lot. We'll see how that plays out I guess. Maybe I'll just commit to a week at first and then decide later about doing the whole month.

I've been keeping a list of stuff that I really miss in the U.S., hoping that I can look back on it and really appreciate it more when I'm home. Among the things on the list (in no particular order) are rock climbing, carpet, the taco truck near my house, driving, grilled cheese sandwiches, baths, baseball, comfortable chairs couches and mattresses, veggie meat, and feeling safe going out after dark. I'm worried that I will have picked up some bad driving habits when I return from all the taxi riding. If I get back and honk incessantly for no apparent reason, point, hiss, and whistle at hitchhikers, and am incapable of downshifting to first when slowing to a crawl, somebody stage an intervention. The hitchhikers and my transmission thank you in advance.

TL;DR Christmastime was a perplexing whirlwind of eat, work, party (Not to be confused with Eat, Pray, Love). And on New Year's Eve I ushered in 2016 by drooling on my pillowcase. Nothing really interesting happened in between, so I just threw in recent-ish paragraphs that I was saving for a place they'd fit better. Lightning round: Les Cueilleurs d'Amerique, African hucksters everywhere, taxi drivers with the charisma of a rhinoceros with hemorrhoids, flirting with writer's cramp, stuff I miss, and bad habits.