Rise and Shine

Cameroon mornings start early. VERY early. Like 4 am early. My bedroom is on the first floor and every morning at 4 I wake up to Jacko washing the car outside (no really, everyday they wash their car, its like the hobby of choice here). After that, Susan, Melanie, and my Mom come downstairs and start preparing breakfast, boiling water and well, I'm not actually sure what else because it is 5 am and I am still asleep. Either way, I am up by 6:30 am -- 7 am at the very latest -- otherwise my Mom knocks on my door and asks "Anne are you awake?" Classes don't start until 9 am, and even then the majority of my classes aren't until the afternoon, but regardless I am out the door by 7:30 am. The first Saturday here, I slept until 8 am which was clearly a mistake because the rest of the day my family asked if I was "feeling alright" since I slept "so late."

Everyday for breakfast I have either a pancake (different than American pancakes and certainly no syrup) or bread and Vache Qui Rit. Really, I should a whole paragraph on Vache Qui Rit considering the absurd amount that I eat. Vache Qui Rit is just the Laughing Cow brand of cheese that we have in the US and that I never really liked before. But here I am, in Cameroon, and it is ALL I EAT. This really has nothing to do with Cameroon, rather it is a bizarre side effect of my stay here. Maybe it is because I am missing dairy from my diet, but regardless all of us are constantly picking up Vache Qui Rit from the bakery (That said, there isn't any other brand of cheese unless you head to Score, the one of the two supermarkets in Yaounde and tres cher).

After breakfast, I walk to Anna's house which is short ten minute walk. My host sisters taught me a shortcut, so instead of walking along the roads, I cut across a soccer field, government housing area, Catholic elementary school, construction site, and finally down the road to Anna's house. The walk is all dirt roads and filled with chicken and goats wandering around, reminding me just how far I am from Dickinson. Along the way, I past all the families bringing their kids to school and I think I must look pretty weird-- a white, clearly an outsider, who isn't completely out of sorts. Even more so, I live in Mendong, a neighborhood far away from the rich Centre Ville and Basto area where it is fairly common to see whites. Honestly, I'm becoming such a snob when I see other whites, we all point them out to each other ("Did you see the blanche?") and then we stare and try to guess their nationality or why they are in Cameroon. It's one thing to see an old white guy and just assume he works for business or government, but today we saw five young women and Anna and I just couldn't wrap our heads around it. If this what I think about whites, I can imagine just how bizarre I look to Cameroonians.

Oh, and well for those who are interested (ie: Mom) here are the classes I'm taking:

1. French. 6 hrs/week (everything else is only 2 hrs/week)
2. Contemporary Cameroon. Mandatory course that covers current issues in Cameroon.
3. Le Roman Camerouniase. French lit. class on Cameroonian novels.
4. Orality and Language. Creative writing course with field trips around city. Best prof.
5. International Relations of African States. Much more interesting in a state with a "benevolent dictator"