Reality Bytes!

Deux mois déjà!

Just talking this evening to Lizzie, another vol, tonight about how quickly you get settled in and how the novelty wears off. The humdrum exists everywhere. I was scratching my head all week wondering what I could write here that would shed some light on my experience here and came up with very little. I didn’t have any little anecdotes to share or axes to grind. Is that how quickly acclimatisation happens, we wondered?

Sure, I'm not near accepted nor do I understand the culture, the people or the country. Still there are certain things that I don't really bat an eyelid at anymore. Like what? Well, - and all of a sudden a blog topic emerges - in no apparent order:

Being called Nassara 2 million times a day - the kids here have a sixth sense for when I leave my house. Seconds after sticking my head out the gate of my concession I'll hear "Nassara, Bonjour" from kids as young as 2. Nassara refers to the colour of my skin; apparently I stick out a bit here!

Going running at 6.15am - ok, the reason I don't bat an eyelid is because my eyelids are welded firmly shut and don't open until 15 minutes into the run when I see my tree and termite mound which marks the turning point (too early - won't get used to that).

Killing crickets and cockroaches (though I still get a sadistic boyhood pleasure in that - nothing comes between me and my sleep.)

Hissing at people to get their attention...waiters, motodrivers, traders selling beignets. I'm not a very good hisser (yes that's hisser, it's not a typo) yet but am working at it. I've seen (or rather heard) a Cameroonian friend successfully hiss at a motodriver about 100 yards away, even though the same moto had passed me 20 seconds before as I was waving one hand in the air and holding a motorbike helmet in the other!

Having the nearest internet 210km away - I'm like a heroin junkie every fortnight when I arrive in Maroua to get my fix of bytes.

Animals wandering everywhere - a guy during the week explained to me that we imprison our animals in the West (we place them in fields behind fences!) while here in Cameroon they are free to roam anywhere. And they do. Goats and sheep graze the streets while hens regularly waltz into my yard to clean it of the bits of spaghetti that were in with the dish water I had thrown out the night before. Pigs, though, are the Tony Soprano’s of waste disposal. They eat everything except for plastic bags. If anyone is looking for an idea for 'Dragon's Den' then invent a plastic bag that is palatable for a pig. It would clean up the severe litter problem that exists here and you'd be on it's bloody back. And it would all be legal, already!

Not having a kitchen sink.

Ca y est,

GC