After
more hours of transit than I’d like to recall, 50-odd sweaty, tired,
adrenaline-jittery Peace Corps trainees arrived in Yaoundé Friday night, where
we spent the weekend getting oriented to Peace Corps service and to Cameroon.
Saturday afternoon we got our first
exposure to Cameroonian children—several trainees had taken a soccer ball into
the front courtyard of our hotel and were kicking it around when a boy of
perhaps nine years old poked his head around the entrance gate. Seeing him, the guys motioned him to come
join them. Soon children were manifesting out of the cracks in the road,
pouring from everywhere and filling the courtyard with a shrieking mass of
soccer, dancing, playing, fighting. A fellow trainee and I heard the noise from
my balcony and ran down to join in. It was fun to watch how people responded to
the kids—trainees definitely showed sides of themselves that I had not seen,
some goofy, some maternal.
Saturday night we went to a
cultural music and dance show hosted by the Cameroonian wife of our program
manager. In some ways, it was very evocative of my time in Paris. The music and singers triggered a wave of
nostalgia for La Saraaba, a Burkina Fasan restaurant and venue in
Barbes-Rochechouart where my friend Meera and I used to spend weekend nights grooving
to kora music. The show in Cameroon was in some ways much less authentic; the
audience consisted solely of US Peace Corps trainees and a group of
Scandinavian medical students. But I think we made it work—had we all sat in
our seats like frozen white folk, watching the costumed dancers gyrating and
writhing on stage, it would have taken on an uncomfortable, culturally
voyeuristic quality. But before long, a YD named Andrew and I leaped up to the
cleared space in front of the stage and started dancing. There was a moment
where everyone maintained their seats and watched—cheered, but didn’t join
in—and I wondered uncomfortably if we were to be a total flop. But then I
singled out another Health volunteer, Jesse, and motioned, wordlessly inviting
him to come dance. A pause; and then he leapt to his feet, grinning, and the
next thing we knew a wave had crashed. There
were trainees swarming the floor, everyone dancing unselfconsciously. It was a
great time. Our training director told us later that the Scandinavians (only
one of whom had joined the party on the dance floor) were amazed by how comfortable
we seemed and how freely we moved into the space. It’s a testament to the
quality of this training class—although I think Andrew and I can take just a
little credit where such is due.
Sunday we dined at our country
director Jackie’s beautiful compound. She had invited all sorts of notables—the
U.S. ambassador and his wife, the Minister of Health (who sent a deputy), news
people, and directors of various development and conservation programs. I flitted
around, but sat at the ambassador’s table for most of the meal, briefly talking
with his wife and the deputy ambassador. I thought he was refreshingly direct.
I asked about the effectiveness of national programs, and he answered
honestly—some of them have worked; others really haven’t, despite money poured
in from the US. He was also resigned about corruption. He made a comment that I
found particularly interesting—of the seven countries to which he’s been
posted, 6 of them in Africa, Cameroon is far and away the least developed.
Next
stop: pre-service training!
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