volunteer support

When I first met the Cercopan volunteers I was in Calabar and still had a bit of electricity so I was able to talk a bit about them. I got to know Sandra in the bush, as she is the camp manager. I remember feeling so relieved the first time I visited the camp and she welcomed me, saying I’m welcome to visit anytime, with a look that said “I can imagine how terrible it is in the village, you poor thing”. There were three of us who were field-based then, but now that Jan has gone, I think Sandra and I have become each other’s sanity. Her skill at diplomacy still amazes me (and I think she also amazes herself with her patience) – while she can still talk levelly and with great sense to the village leaders, I just end up losing my top and screaming at them. She’s French and a double doctor (a vet with a pHd), and though it doesn’t really show, she’s half Madagasi. When I first saw her it struck me how she looks like the young version of Tita Lisa Cosgayon. We both have almost the same build and the same hair, so many of the villagers mistake us for the other; even one of the volunteers. I think I’m just very lucky we get along well. Unfortunately, her term is only one year (everyone I came with leaves in August!!!). As the only VSO in Cercopan, I have the longest term and will therefore have to live with all the comings and goings. The comings are great, we have 3 new volunteers, but the goings are a little harder to deal with.

best attempt at a nigerian attire

Acculturated kuno... taken during the New Year party at my compound with one of the women leaders. This is the first and last time I ever wore a head scarf, which the women (especially the older ones) wear everyday - don't they realize there is such a thing as dressing according to the weather?

grand tour of iko esai

This is the main road as you enter my village...

this is the market square, the center of the village...

this is what's beyond the square, leading to the road to Rhoko camp...

stitch these photos together and I've practically taken you on a village tour.

village scene

typical village scene: brilliant sunset behind rainforest trees, woman carrying a load on her head, a termite hill along the trail.

"SETTLED"

I think it was around my 4th to 5th month that I had finally somewhat gotten the hang of things. I don’t want to say the term culture shock, as I think the concept is very broad and overused. After all, I come from a 3rd world country, and being a mountaineer, haven’t I been through just about the worst conditions? So what I probably mean is I have settled; if such is possible in Nigeria. Let me try to explain by example. I’ve never been afraid of traveling, and some of you know I’ve been through the worst rides ever, or so I thought. Nothing beats getting around in Nigeria. While the rest of Africa die of hunger, Nigerians die of road accidents. I’ve never seen more in my entire life than in the first two months I was here, and most of that time I was just in the village where there are two resident cars incongruously sported by their owners (and extended families) to and fro the quarter kilometer or so of dirt road in the village. So everytime I traveled I actually prayed for my life (yep believe it!). About a month ago I was in a bus (the equivalent of our shuttle vans there; the old, falling apart ones that Pinoys would not ride anymore) when the whole door just fell off as the conductor was trying to close it. With the bus running, of course. I found it so ridiculous I just laughed and laughed. I‘m sure I would have had a completely different reaction a couple of months back. I suppose what it is is that I've gotten comfortable and have accepted how things are (or rather, how bad things are). And though forever exasperating and oh-so-sloooow, I am getting the rhythm of the village. So while I don’t think I will ever stop sounding like a broken complaint jukebox, the novelty that I’m in Africa (in Nigeria, no less) hasn’t worn off, and I guess at the end of the day that’s what keeps me from taking the next flight home – or anywhere else. Nigeria definitely is acquired taste. I’m not saying I’ve acquired it already, but once I finally accepted that Nigeria is on a different plane altogether (as in, not part of this world as we know it), I felt a lot better. One just has to understand and try to live with the fact that here, everything is negotiable, no one is reasonable, and nothing ever works.

TUUBEGGGG!

If you want to experience real Africa (sans wildlife), this is it. Some VSOs here get posted in some big city where true, electricity is still a rare occurrence, but life is a lot more manageable. I can’t believe some of us are even posted in the Philippines, which now I think is paradise! But all that I imagined life in Africa to be, I’m living it now, and even more. Of course it’s all relative; I live in a luxury house compared to most in my village. Which is to say I don’t live in a mud hut, even if the house is so crudely built one can actually push out the entire window from the wall. Now to the issue at hand: before I arrived I was thinking, shit, would I actually need to wash my own clothes? Of course I could always hire someone but with the way I’ve seen them wash (or don’t wash) their clothes, I didn’t think so. So yeah, I learned how to actually do my laundry by hand, and at a rather dirty stream, no less. O di va bario lass na barrio lass ang dating. That wasn’t all, though. When dry season came, the stream got shallower and shallower, and dirtier and dirtier. Still, somehow, I managed. But of course that wasn’t enough. The steams had to completely dry up (remember this village is in the middle of the rainforest), and the children who were fighting amongst themselves to fetch me water before (for a small fee or some biscuits) have somehow disappeared, as the very few and rather dirty sources of water have gotten farther and farther from the village. Only motorbike owners and their friends (which include me, thankfully) have the luxury of bathing at the river about 5-6 kilometers away. Then the only potable source of water, a single borehole for 400+ households, got broken and of course the community can’t be bothered to organize themselves to see what can be done. So the water they drink is brown or green, big deal. Maybe their children will die because the water is dirty, so what? Thank God people at Rhoko camp bring me a 50-liter jerry can of water from the forest every few days, but I don’t think I would want to survive another dry season here. The Dupinga River and all those other rivers and streams back home have just multiplied in value. (I swear my next project will be aquatic!!!) I just wonder what kind of problems I will encounter when the rainy season comes. :o

I actually take drugs now

Back home I wouldn’t even take ascorbic acid, but here I live my days by Doxy, my anti-malarial capsule. I have my morning ritual when I prepare a good breakfast (otherwise I throw up if I take the capsule on an empty stomach) and get reminded there is another world waiting for me, that I do have friends who understand at least a third of what I say, that indeed other things are happening elsewhere. I mark out the dates of people‘s birthdays, events, even GEC meetings. I know keeping track doesn’t matter where I am, but its just nice to feel connected somehow.