Oh Em Gee
Quotes of the Week:
“I’m siiiiiiinnnkkkkiiinnggg.” ~ Marcel
“I am going to evaporate.” ~ Matt
This may not make any sense at all, but this has been both one of the longest and one of the shortest weeks of my entire 21 years on this planet. It started out last Saturday with boarding the overnight train to Ngaoundere. The station was complete chaos. I saw at least a dozen people pick pocketed and a few who were just straight up robbed. People were everywhere, yelling and shoving and in every state of anger and/or confusion possible. I think I forgot to mention that we had 2 gendarmes to watch over us at the hotel, with their machine guns and everything. Our military escorts also came to the station and on the train with us, thank goodness. Ironic, I know. But like our CD told us the first night we got into country… a group of Americans of such a size… a collective walking ATM machine.
The train had to stop a billion times so that the drivers and some of the passengers could pray (Ramadan); and also once because one of the passenger cars caught on fire, so the car had to be evacuated and we had to wait around for about an hour for a new car to be attached. Did I mention that there was no air conditioning on this train? “But what of the beautiful rainforests which the train drove through?” those of you who know your geography might asked. Those beautiful rainforests were like a scene from Jurassic Park; I was almost certain that at any given moment a raptor was going to bash through and eat us all. Those African rains and jungles are no joke. Anywho, to sum up the train ride:
Hours it took: 22
Hours of sleep I got while on train: 1
Number of times I fell out of my seat due to startlingly abrupt stops: 4
Number of times I almost got arrested: 1
Number of times Jamie got hit in the face by a monkey: 1
Number of marriage proposals I received from random Cameroonians: 7
What? You thought the journey was over? HA! We arrived at the central transportation spot in Ngaoundere, all looking like we had just escaped from Chateau D’iff, and were met by 12 more military escorts (highway bandits from Chad, Nigeria, Congo, and obviously Cameroon, are notorious in the north). We then piled into numerous PC vehicles (including the escorts) and started our 4 hour journey to Garoua. The journey was long, bumpy, squished, hot, and absolutely gorgeous… at least until the sudden alarm we had when we noticed the unexpected drop in vegetation… um… grass… and green stuff. It was so odd that in the last 24 hours we had seen fertile, coastal land, followed by rainforests with canopies through the stratosphere, followed by a crazy lush landscape, followed by beautiful mountains… to… um… sand and dust. It was then that we remembered our destination… the Sahel.
By the time we finally reached Pitoa, we were so tired and so gross-feeling, that any anxiety which had survived the train ride about out our host families was pretty much forgotten. We just wanted a shower and some cold water to drink (sans amoebas and other various fun extras)… imagine our surprise later on that night when we discovered that neither of these luxuries are to be found in either Pitoa (training site for the Health) or Nassarao (training site for Agro).
The first night was far from pleasant. Though my host family is certainly nice enough, greeting me with “Ma fille! (My Daughter!)”, the communication barrier was frightening. It is hard enough to be thrown into a new culture, new atmosphere with new people, new foods… and then to not be able to understand anyone nor make them understand you? Now I know how Asperger’s patients feel. Whoa. My room is an 11x11 box with one 1x1 window… it is like a sauna. That night I swam in a pool of my own sweat and a larger pool of Francophobia, waking up 5 or so times that night, each time praying that mosquitoes had not eaten me. I think I have already lost about 10 lbs in water weight alone.
As we exchanged first night stories Monday morning, an audible sigh of relief circled the room as people realized that they were not alone in their experiences. I apologize for yet another long entry. For now I will just say that training is intense. Our days start at 6:00 AM and end around midnight. Class after class after class… so much reading… so much homework… so much to understand. But everyone has been doing very well, thus far. Although, we got some news today that has made the week more draining. During one of our Medical sessions today, in which we all had to draw our own blood to show that we could prepare a malaria slide, David (our training director), came out to tell us that he had an emergency announcement (how our minds raced then)… Dr. George had been found dead in his hotel room the previous night. It was so crazy. Dr. George was the APCD for the Agro program and one of its most accomplished trainers, as well as just a great guy overall. We do not know what happened yet. Everyone just sat there, not comprehending. And then the tears came, even from the guys. We had not even known him all that long, but it was just too much after such a week. And to see the reaction of the staff with whom he had been working with for decades… What a poignant reminder of how fragile we all are. It has been a long long week, indeed.
"If you've come here to help me, you're wasting your time. If you are here because your liberation is somehow wrapped up in mine, then let's begin to work together." ~ Lila Watson
“I’m siiiiiiinnnkkkkiiinnggg.” ~ Marcel
“I am going to evaporate.” ~ Matt
This may not make any sense at all, but this has been both one of the longest and one of the shortest weeks of my entire 21 years on this planet. It started out last Saturday with boarding the overnight train to Ngaoundere. The station was complete chaos. I saw at least a dozen people pick pocketed and a few who were just straight up robbed. People were everywhere, yelling and shoving and in every state of anger and/or confusion possible. I think I forgot to mention that we had 2 gendarmes to watch over us at the hotel, with their machine guns and everything. Our military escorts also came to the station and on the train with us, thank goodness. Ironic, I know. But like our CD told us the first night we got into country… a group of Americans of such a size… a collective walking ATM machine.
The train had to stop a billion times so that the drivers and some of the passengers could pray (Ramadan); and also once because one of the passenger cars caught on fire, so the car had to be evacuated and we had to wait around for about an hour for a new car to be attached. Did I mention that there was no air conditioning on this train? “But what of the beautiful rainforests which the train drove through?” those of you who know your geography might asked. Those beautiful rainforests were like a scene from Jurassic Park; I was almost certain that at any given moment a raptor was going to bash through and eat us all. Those African rains and jungles are no joke. Anywho, to sum up the train ride:
Hours it took: 22
Hours of sleep I got while on train: 1
Number of times I fell out of my seat due to startlingly abrupt stops: 4
Number of times I almost got arrested: 1
Number of times Jamie got hit in the face by a monkey: 1
Number of marriage proposals I received from random Cameroonians: 7
What? You thought the journey was over? HA! We arrived at the central transportation spot in Ngaoundere, all looking like we had just escaped from Chateau D’iff, and were met by 12 more military escorts (highway bandits from Chad, Nigeria, Congo, and obviously Cameroon, are notorious in the north). We then piled into numerous PC vehicles (including the escorts) and started our 4 hour journey to Garoua. The journey was long, bumpy, squished, hot, and absolutely gorgeous… at least until the sudden alarm we had when we noticed the unexpected drop in vegetation… um… grass… and green stuff. It was so odd that in the last 24 hours we had seen fertile, coastal land, followed by rainforests with canopies through the stratosphere, followed by a crazy lush landscape, followed by beautiful mountains… to… um… sand and dust. It was then that we remembered our destination… the Sahel.
By the time we finally reached Pitoa, we were so tired and so gross-feeling, that any anxiety which had survived the train ride about out our host families was pretty much forgotten. We just wanted a shower and some cold water to drink (sans amoebas and other various fun extras)… imagine our surprise later on that night when we discovered that neither of these luxuries are to be found in either Pitoa (training site for the Health) or Nassarao (training site for Agro).
The first night was far from pleasant. Though my host family is certainly nice enough, greeting me with “Ma fille! (My Daughter!)”, the communication barrier was frightening. It is hard enough to be thrown into a new culture, new atmosphere with new people, new foods… and then to not be able to understand anyone nor make them understand you? Now I know how Asperger’s patients feel. Whoa. My room is an 11x11 box with one 1x1 window… it is like a sauna. That night I swam in a pool of my own sweat and a larger pool of Francophobia, waking up 5 or so times that night, each time praying that mosquitoes had not eaten me. I think I have already lost about 10 lbs in water weight alone.
As we exchanged first night stories Monday morning, an audible sigh of relief circled the room as people realized that they were not alone in their experiences. I apologize for yet another long entry. For now I will just say that training is intense. Our days start at 6:00 AM and end around midnight. Class after class after class… so much reading… so much homework… so much to understand. But everyone has been doing very well, thus far. Although, we got some news today that has made the week more draining. During one of our Medical sessions today, in which we all had to draw our own blood to show that we could prepare a malaria slide, David (our training director), came out to tell us that he had an emergency announcement (how our minds raced then)… Dr. George had been found dead in his hotel room the previous night. It was so crazy. Dr. George was the APCD for the Agro program and one of its most accomplished trainers, as well as just a great guy overall. We do not know what happened yet. Everyone just sat there, not comprehending. And then the tears came, even from the guys. We had not even known him all that long, but it was just too much after such a week. And to see the reaction of the staff with whom he had been working with for decades… What a poignant reminder of how fragile we all are. It has been a long long week, indeed.
"If you've come here to help me, you're wasting your time. If you are here because your liberation is somehow wrapped up in mine, then let's begin to work together." ~ Lila Watson
posted by Me at 2:31 PM
2 Comments:
number of times jamie got hit in the face by a monkey: 1
and then i fell out of my chair laughing. you rock, jamie.
p.s. how the hell did jamie get hit in the face by a monkey? was her face sticking out of the side of the train and the monkey slapped her as the train chugged by? or did the monkey jump on the train? (in which case i am surprised she was only hit once). what a conundrum. i am hopeful there is an update to this story. and future tales about more people getting hit in the face with african wildlife.
That monkey hit her hard too!!! Through an open window on the train! Crazy! It was not funny at the time, but now that I think about it... Anywho, more later cuz this internet cafe sucks :( Lob.
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