Anytown, Cameroon?
The rainy season is in full swing... except for a lack of rain. It's been a little over two weeks since my village has had a good rain, and people are starting to get a little antsy. We've had a little sprinkle once or twice, but nothing of real significance to make a difference on people's farms. For a while it was just kind of a joke, ("Oh, it's like we're in the month of March!"), but now people are pissed because they planted their seeds. The ones that had sprouted, but hadn't developed into plants are now all dried out and ruined.
So for the past few days at night children have gotten in a big group (like over 100 kids), and march through the village singing "God bring us water, God bring us rain..." Even my counterpart's church decided to fast on Monday, and were going to stay at church to pray for rain from 6am until noon. It's alright, because it's not too late to sow seeds again, but time is running out and people are getting nervous.
Nonetheless, I've been spending most of my time on the farm with friends and neighbors, sowing seeds or clearing herbs (and developing some kickass forearms in the process... machetes do that to you). If I'm not on the farm, I'm coordinating with villages that decided to take part in the reforestation project I'm working on. So I've been keeping plenty busy.
And when I'm not working, I've been passing time with friends from around town. I've developed a fun clique of friends that I spend most time with, in addition to my good friend Hamadou, my counterpart, and my post-mate Sarah. So I've certainly got plenty of sources of stimulation.
So many, that, I'm often surprised about how wrapped up in the lives, backgrounds, stories, and drama that comes from living in a small village. In reality, it's not all that much different than the drama that I ran into in Cornwall, NY, which is funny because when you think about moving to a village in Africa it seems like you're going to be moving a world away. In reality, it is in terms of distance, but it's the same old stories just with a different cultural twist. It makes me wonder if I should be as critical (ha, or cynical) of the small-town gossip and dramas of my village as I am of Cornwall's. Hmm. I guess I didn't escape the small-town life after all.
So for the past few days at night children have gotten in a big group (like over 100 kids), and march through the village singing "God bring us water, God bring us rain..." Even my counterpart's church decided to fast on Monday, and were going to stay at church to pray for rain from 6am until noon. It's alright, because it's not too late to sow seeds again, but time is running out and people are getting nervous.
Nonetheless, I've been spending most of my time on the farm with friends and neighbors, sowing seeds or clearing herbs (and developing some kickass forearms in the process... machetes do that to you). If I'm not on the farm, I'm coordinating with villages that decided to take part in the reforestation project I'm working on. So I've been keeping plenty busy.
And when I'm not working, I've been passing time with friends from around town. I've developed a fun clique of friends that I spend most time with, in addition to my good friend Hamadou, my counterpart, and my post-mate Sarah. So I've certainly got plenty of sources of stimulation.
So many, that, I'm often surprised about how wrapped up in the lives, backgrounds, stories, and drama that comes from living in a small village. In reality, it's not all that much different than the drama that I ran into in Cornwall, NY, which is funny because when you think about moving to a village in Africa it seems like you're going to be moving a world away. In reality, it is in terms of distance, but it's the same old stories just with a different cultural twist. It makes me wonder if I should be as critical (ha, or cynical) of the small-town gossip and dramas of my village as I am of Cornwall's. Hmm. I guess I didn't escape the small-town life after all.
posted by Ryan @ 1:45 AM
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