The Devil Cat

Before I continue, there were 18 people (2 of them small children) squeezed into my bush taxi, which only has the seating capacity of a minivan. Apparently this is nothing compared to Kate, who usually has 20-25 in hers.

 

There is a devil cat in my compound.  The Devil Cat used to be Rachel's cat, but she left it when she went back to l'Amerique winter 2005.  Apparently, she treated the cat nicely, so nicely, that it expected Danielle to feed and house it, and now it expects me to do the same (FYI, I replaced Danielle, who replaced Rachel, and we've all lived in the same house). Oh, Devil Cat, you are sadly mistaken. Your constant meowing at my front door and somewhat successful attempts to get inside will not be tolerated.

 

Let me describe this cat, whose real name I cannot say here since my family reads this (here's a hint: the name rhymes with Duckcase).  It is mangy and black and white. It is dirty and there's no proof of rabies vaccination (I've gotten mine, but that doesn't protect me against fleas).  It has a tick or a worm coming out of it's head!  It is stupid. I throw rocks at it - yes, rocks, I'm in Africa, get mad if you want, what are you going to do? - and it's starting to get the point. Starting to. It knows when I reach down to pick up a rock, I'm going to throw it at it (no, I never actually want to hit the Devil Cat, but if one should bounce and smack the DC in the side, c'est la vie.), so it starts running away. But it still comes back. Again and again.  You would think that after ONE YEAR, it would understand it's not getting any food or shelter at chez moi. Like Eric Forman's dad on That 70s Show: Dumbass.

 

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Spending Xmas Eve in Garoua. Joyeux Noel and a happy New Year's to everyone. And belated happy birthdays to Emma, Scott, Erica (I'm missing someone else, aren't I? Sorry).

So I Actually Have To Work, Right?

So it took me 2 1/2 hours to get here in Garoua instead of the usual one. I got to Ngong fine (30 minutes), then waiting for another taxi there for another 30, then the taxi I was in (one of eight passengers... in a Toyota Corolla) had two flat tires. But I made it here to tell you, yes you, that I am officially a Peace Corps Volunteer living at my post for the next two years. Scary shit, lemme tell ya. It's no wonder why the PC tells us to not really do anything for the first three months accept try to integrate and get to know the community. I am all too happy to oblige.

 

I've been in Lagdo since Thursday morning, and all I've really done is open up my bank account, open up my post office box, buy some food, and avoid the outside world/the bat in my living room. I'm actually going to start work tomorrow, so wish me luck.

 

Here's my new address:

 

James Fisher

B.P. 75

Lagdo, Cameroon

 

That's it. You may want to add a Peace Corps or Corps de la Paix under my name just to be safe. If you sent anything to the Yaounde address, I'll get it in the next two months.

 

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The swearing-in ceremony last Wednesday was an interesting experience. It's definitely not for us.  It's really only a big deal because the U.S. Ambassador to Cameroon (an RPCV from Cameroon) and all the local Cameroonian bigwigs show up to shake hands and smile for the camera.  The best part was the ridiculous fabric that all the health stage wore. When I get some pictures up, you'll have to put on sunglasses because my shirt is so bright.

"Peace Corps Don't Screen Crazy!"

One of my host uncle's isn't the sharpest tool in the shed (speaking of tools, the Cameroonian axe is a big stick with a steel blade wedged in).  About a month ago, he told me I was a missionary.  He said this because I was reading the Bible.  He obviously couldn't tell the book in my hand wasn't the word of God, but Middlesex, an amazing modern novel about a hermaphrodite.

 

Just a fews days ago, after having an awkward conversation about why I haven't had kids yet and the benefits of having a wife (we've had this conversation before... a couple of times), he then told me he was coming back to America with me.  Needless to say, not a very tactful transition.  Then this past Thursday, he told me I was Chinese.  I said I wasn't, he said I was.  I was having a great time, especially considering that my G-I tract has had a life of its own this whole week and I just wanted to go lie down in my room (without a wife).  A samarai movie came on TV a little later, and I asked my host brother Osuman what movie it was.  He replied, "Chinese."  I just said, "Ahh," and let it go.

 

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I'm getting really anxious about going to post this coming Thursday (I hope to have my new address by Friday).  It's the realization that I'm going to be completely on my own that's making me lose sleep (really, though, I'm not that isolated at all from other PCVs, but still).  It's incredible to me that I'm finally reaching my goal of being a PCV after nearly a year of starting the whole application process.  I knew it was going to hard, but I'm just now realizing that it's going to be f***ing hard (pardon the francais) with stage winding down and thinking about packing up all my stuff again.  However, it is going to be nice to not be living out of my suitcase and having the freedom that attracts people to the Peace Corps in the first place.

 

During the swearing-in ceremony Wednesday morning, each stage (Health - moi - and Agroforestry) are wearing their own matching panyas (spelling is probably wrong, but African fabric is what it is. Talk like Yoda I must.). It's going to be funny... funny-looking.

 

I'll more than likely get the chance to write again before Christmas! Someone send me a bootleg copy of Casino Royale, and sorry if I'm not responding quickly to everyone's emails, I'll get to them eventually, I promise.

Castel or 33

Thanks for all the comments, keep them coming.  And, yes, UB, there is beer.  A lot of it. The two big brands are Castel and 33, and Guinness is usually available, too.  Especially popular is a type of homemade beer called bil-bil.  Cameroon is about 30% Muslim, but most, if not all, of them are centered here in the Grand North (the Adamaoua, North, and Extreme North provinces), so there's a lot of drinking going on among the non-Muslim populations (not to say all Muslim's don't drink, smoke, and have extra-marital affairs).  Also, here's a little Cameroonian history for you to give everyone a better idea about where I am:

 

The Grand North is consistently the poorest region of Cameroon, money- and health-wise.  The first president of post-independence Cameroon was a Muslim from Garoua (where I'm writing this now) and put a lot of money into the north.  Also, the Grand North was one huge province.  When the current president, Paul Biya, a Christian, took power,  Biya split up the Grand North into the three provinces it is today.  He basically did the tried-and-true "divide and conquer" strategy to squash the resistance that came from the north (there was a coup d'etat attempt around 1984, I think, and a lot of people from the Grand North disappeared), and in turn, the Grand North has taken a serious downturn in prosperity.  People from southern Cameroon basically think the North is the boondocks.  Another fyi, the biggest area of resistance to Paul Biya comes from the Anglophone region of Cameroon.

 

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Somehow I passed my French exam with flying colors.  Really, there must be something wrong with the evaluation because I got an Advanced Low ranking (Intermediate High is passing).  The ironic thing about passing the language exam is that I hardly ever speak French now because I don't have a real class.  I did my cross-cultural presentation yesterday and we have another small group presentation Tuesday, then stage is basically over.  In ten days, I'll officially be a Peace Corps Volunteer.

 

I had a whole bunch of things to say here, but I've forgotten what they were.  I should write my ideas down in my Ronaldo (when he was skinny) or Japanese Zidane notebooks.  I also have my eye on this 8-foot hight Ronaldinho poster for my house, but I can't seem to find the store again in Garoua.  I think the storeowner might be in Nigeria (I'm not just making a wild guess, he said a couple weeks ago he was going to be there), where things magically appear and come over to Cameroon on the black market.  Come to think of it, there's so little regulation here, the black market just might be the Market.

 

I'm also pumped to see that USC lost and my hope of an OSU-Michigan championship game is still possible.  Also, to paraphrase Bill Simmons (anyone want to print out some of his columns and mail them to me?), there's comedy, then there's Whitney standing around for no reason in her moto helmet.