Wanderlust Wendy

Village Love

Dry Season Horror

I’m wrapped in a fleece blanket with a cup of warm jasmine tea by my side. The rainy season has finally arrived, and I couldn’t be happier. Since around November, I’ve been suffering through the horror that is the dry season.

No matter how much I clean, my house is always dirty, as are my feet. The dust is everywhere. It covers everything in the house. If I dare step outside of my house, I am instantly covered by the dust, and if a car or a moto drives by – forget it, there is no part of me that will remain clean.

I get lazy with showering, because on top of the fact it’s a pain in the butt to get water/boil water/bucket bath, what’s the point? I will be dirty again in 3.5 seconds. Furthermore, my respiratory system is all screwy from the dust. I take decongestants as if they are candy. This problem wouldn’t be so bad if this country has more paved roads.

It’s a vicious cycle, you see? The roads aren’t paved, the dust get people sick, and then people aren’t productive. This results in people never being productive because they are too sick in the dry season. And in the rainy season? well, there is the rain! Why would one uses the umbrella and brave the rain when you can just “sit it out”?

Rainy Season Reprieve

In any case, I am so so happy the rain is upon us. I love the fresh smell of air in the morning, the cold breeze that leads me to put on a sweater and wrap in blankets. The beginning of the rain also makes this the only month that the weather corresponds with the Northern hemisphere: April shower!

I am in a jolly good mood, even though the quiche tonight didn’t turn out quite as well (evaporated milk makes all the difference..!). Today, I thought about how I will really miss this place when I have to leave it behind in roughly a year’s time.

Despite of all the things I miss about the modern world (tonight, I particularly missed Jazz bars and a good glass of red wine in big heavy wine glasses), I will never again live in a place where strangers are so nice to me. The more I live here, the more I am amazed at just how NICE people are. I am not talking about Cameroon, I am talking about my village. Trust me, outside of my village, people are not always nice.

Village Love

Apparently the kid who stole from me stole again, this time with his older brother. They were caught and put in jail. I absolutely love the fact nearly a dozen people have came and told me about this news. They all come to me with this, “I just want to make sure you know the kid got what he deserved” kind of niceness. I will miss this about village living.

I will miss everyone now calling me by name – the lady that sells me my everyday things, the vegetable mama, the fruit lady, the bar ladies, the tool guy. Everyone knows my name, and they all now throw in a little something extra when I buy things. When was the last time you bought your grocery and the guy at the checkout greeted you by name and threw in extra tomatoes?

Also, I love love love the kids that wave and yell my name when I am either on a moto or walking down the street. Every kid that lives along the way from my house to the carrefour has now properly learned my name. No one calls me “la blanche” any longer.

Blessed Life

I count my blessings everyday with the people I encounter: the unbelievably nice villagers, the motivated students, the adorable kids, and then there are the fellow volunteers and the seemingly endless supply of French students/volunteers whom I can have “real” conversations with and they get my craving for a glass of really good wine and a piece of really good chocolate.

My daily life here may not be at all exciting, but life in general is ever so unexpected. There hasn’t been a month that gone by where I hadn’t thought, “well, that was an interesting and unexpected month”. I don’t know too many who can say that about their lives in the world of running water, washing machines and plentiful choices. (I can’t wait to get my jeans washed in a washing machine!!)

Join the conversation. Remember to be kind.