Et Le Navire Va: Uh-Oh, Where are my keys?

Uh-oh, where are my keys? – Thursday, October 4, 2012 (that's right, first time in a week we've had internet access)

I know I wasn’t able to post yesterday; first of all, calm down baby birds, I’ll feed you. Secondly, I have a good reason. Since the people from Bokito were in Bafia yesterday, we all went to the bar together (not really different from usual, but at least we had an excuse this time). Let me start by saying that we have a curfew of 7 PM, one that I haven’t exactly been following that closely… in my defense, a lot of the time I am walking someone home. On the other hand, I usually leave the bar after the curfew has already passed. That’s really beside the point.

On this particular occasion, I was just a little late, but it was because I was talking to a couple of current PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) and getting some great information. Stuff that the Peace Corps won’t give you – they seem to be against distributing useful information, just common sense information that I really can’t believe people are still asking questions about. Anyways, I end up getting home, reach into my bag and… my keys aren’t there.

I headed back to the bar and the two PCVs along with every Cameroonian in the bar had their flashlights and cellphones in their hands helping me look (aren’t they great people?). After scouring the bar we realized that it wasn’t there, so I spent the next while with my host brother searching the 50-meter mud path between the bar and my house. I looked around for more than an hour before my host-mom made me come inside and call Monique, the woman in charge of our homestays. She immediately arranged for a ‘technician’ to come over to change the lock.

I kept searching for a while in our nice muddy path until my host brother came out and told me that my host mom wanted me to come in for dinner. Eventually the

‘technician’ came out to change the locks. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the materials with him, so basically he just broke my door in. I figured I could have done that myself, but whatever. My host dad then put a large nail in the frame and bent it so I had something to keep the door closed at night.

The next day I get to training and a friend of mine walks in and throws me my keys. I guess he picked them up off the table at the bar thinking they were his and didn’t realize that they weren’t until the morning. Unfortunately the damage was already done, and Monique gave me a new set of keys in the morning. The good thing about the situation was that my host family and Monique were all great. No one was angry, Monique was incredibly helpful, and my host mom kept telling me to stay cool and that it wasn’t a big deal. Well met, Peace Corps.

I keep thinking of some of the things I’m going to write here in French. Of course, it’s the small things, but I figure it’s a good start.

It was great to be able to hang out with the people from Bokito the past couple of days. It’s crazy to think that I have only known these people for a couple of weeks, and haven’t seen much of the Bokito people for a week. I mean, when they come back it seems like I’m seeing old friends again. Obviously not the same as people back home, but we are all getting really close really quick.

This is my first time being someplace during a rainy season. Let me tell you, it’s not called the rainy season for no reason, there has been some nice streams going through places that shouldn’t really have them. It’s after 10 PM and my backpack is still wet from this morning. I need to get something to cover it when I’m walking to school.