Journey to Yaounde

9/23/11

I don’t even know where to start. I’m sitting on this scratchy coverlet in a small dingy hotel room in Cameroon, pleasantly surprised by the AC unit, running water (both warm and cold), a toilet (granted, there’s no toilet seat) and a TV. I’m surprised that I’m surprised. The last few days have been a complete whirlwind. As I sit here and try to write, I realize how fuzzy my head is and how few words I have to explain my emotions or mental state.

On Wednesday morning, I left my aunts house with her and my sister, headed to the Union Station to catch a train to Philly. My sister brought me into the train station, and escorted me onto the train. As I said my last physical goodbye, I became a freaking tearwork factory, again. I don’t think I’ve ever cried as much as I have in these past weeks. Saying goodbye over and over again to so many people whom I love… I don’t even have the words to describe how disheartened I was. Ugg, I’m not even going to dwell on this. There are so many positives to get to, I just don’t have the heart to dredge this up right now.

So, on the train I am, reading the manual I was supposed to have read months ago, learning about policies and benefits when I realized how right this feels. Granted I have no idea what I’m getting into, but I feel like this is what I should be doing and I love that feeling. (disclaimer: if you don't believe in a higher power, skip to the next paragraph). All summer, I've been feeling like God has been trying to communicate with me about this post. For example, the whole Turkmenistan debacle and cancellation. Also, I read a lot this summer, randomly picking up books without looking at the synopsis and with no order whatsoever. 3/10 books were biographies about people growing up in Africa and the horrors they witnessed. WTF. Anyways, there were tons of little (and big) nuances that led me to believe God wants my attention on Africa right now, and then this feeling of right overwhelmed me on the train. I am so grateful to have him so close to me, hopefully blessing my adventures. 

Arrival at the hotel in Philly was easy, although at this point I was beginning to regret how much I had packed, regardless of the fact that I was pretty sure I could not have gotten rid of anything else. I got to the taxi stand carrying a huge duffle in my hand, a small but extremely heavy duffle in my other hand with a purse full of food (including spilled chinese food which I still smell when I take out that purse), a cavas bag full of books for gifts, and my backpack hanging off my person. No, I didn't walk with this for long, I had help (Thanks, Andrea!).

 I walked up to training feeling extremely apprehensive. I hadn’t slept well the night before. What if I didn’t have enough energy to meet new friends? What if I pulled some stupid weird stunt, or said something so strange that people wrote me off right away? I was so afraid that in the first few minutes I would lose all hope of having friends to be with and turn to during the next two years. I was so off base. Everyone was so friendly. Many people have asked me before what the best of MIT was, and every time I could answer: the people.

Again, I find myself surrounded by marvelous, talented, intelligent people with drive and empathy. Many of the people are working on their masters degrees through a joint program. Many of them just graduated college. Some of them have awesome experiences, like a nurse, or a Zumba instructor, or a camp counselor. Bottom line: great freaking people. If anything could have made me feel like this was more right, it was the people. So we trained, and we ate, and we learned about each other and had fun. We were officially inducted as Peace Corps Trainees. 

Thursday morning came and found the Marriot lobby overtaken by dozens of Peace Corps Trainees and their hordes of luggage. We piled onto buses and headed to the airports.

I’m taking a break from this narrative. This entire week, my inner monologue has been of “lasts”. This is my last cheeseburger, my last string cheese, my last bagel, my last warm shower, my last time using a western toilet. There are an infinite number of lasts. Lets just say, I probably gained 5 pounds this last week just stuffing my face with foods that I love using a “last” excuse. Anyways, waiting around in the airport, we got a lot of “lasts”, my particular favorite being my last McFlurry.

After waiting around the airport for hours, the final hour came. It was time for lasts goodbyes. Our party dispersed and 45 of us tried to find privacy around the terminal to call our families and friends. I got a few good “last” calls in. But every time I hung up, tears were streaming down my face. Looking around, I couldn’t see anyone with similar reactions. I felt alone and isolated, scared and frustrated, and sad. As I walked down the gangplank to the plane, I stopped focusing on what I was leaving behind and tried focusing on what was to come. It left me a poor conversationalist, but I was feeling better. I left my sadness behind in America, as our wheels left American soil, for the time being anyways.

So JFK to Brussels, for a nice long layover. During this time, a giant starbucks poster hung over our heads, beckoning with good coffee while a giant gate kept us from feeding our caffeine addictions. Finally we boarded for our second 6.5 hour flight. As soon as the doors closed, I was hit by a powerful smell. I can’t really explain it, but lets just say it was similar to a sweaty gym locker smell. I guess, this was my first introduction to the smells of Africa. Needless to say I got over it as well as I could, slept a few winks and in no time at all, we were landing in Yaounde, the capital of Cameroon.

Interesting sidenote: Also in my group is Sophie (Katie she is one of the girls from Tufts), who was also supposed to go to Turkmenistan. Not surprisingly, we sat together on the plane from Brussels to Yaounde, 20+ rows from the rest of the PCT's (Peace Corps Trainees). Interestingly, again, I could see God's hand playing in my life and I heard her horror stories of not being added to mailing lists (that I had been added to) or hearing about immunizations (that I had heard about and taken care of) and obviously botched travel papers that were done quickly and with her name completely misspelled (again, I had no such problem). We were both switched from the exact same program at the exact same time.... Just something else for me to ponder. 

Looking out the airplane window, all I saw was green. Green trees and fields speckled here and there with larger cities. I could just imagine monkeys swinging from the green vines that I saw. It was gorgeous.

We were met in the aiport by our Country Director, Lahoma, waving a Peace Corps sign and wearing a shawl of Peace Corps material. Here in Cameroon, fabrics are a big deal. Whole outfits are made of one fabric, often a very busy and colorful one. Everyone who came to pick us up had this material as some article of clothing, a dress, shirt, ect. Everything was extremely efficient as we were helped without bags and headed toward the exit. Here we saw a little of Cameroon. We were told to put our bags in front of us, wearing our backpacks on our stomach as we were hearded into buses. Outside, people were lined up, watching us as we loaded our stuff into Peace Corps vans that would go ahead of us. Nothing happened, but it was an interesting first taste of the vigilance we'll have to exercise every day.

This is wear it got fun. Buses in Cameroon aren’t like buses at home. They are often in a much poorer condition and always extremely packed. We fit 27 people in a bus that probably at home would have been an 18-20 person van, and that was nothing compared to how Cameroonians do it. 

From there we embarked on the 45 minute drive to our hotel. We passed goats, huts, grand houses, naked children, mice, porcupines, palm trees, banana trees, a grocery market and stalls of cooking goat meat. I wish I could explain to you the amazingness, the beauty, and the absolute poverty that we witnessed. But as I write this, I’ve been up for days, I’m exhausted and simply out of words. There will be more time for updates later, but for now, sleep. Training starts at 7:30 am!

Arrived safe and sound in Yaounde. Updates to come, but for now, sleep......

Goodbye Boston

Up until today, the idea that I was leaving my friends, my home, and most of my possessions seemed abstract and a long ways off. Today, it started to click. Today I'm starting to feel the sadness putting distance between people and places that I love. Last night, my sister and her (my old) roomates threw me a goodbye party. So many freaking people showed up. I was floored, completely surprised. Some people came 20 or 30 minutes out of their way just to say goodbye before leaving. Just writing about this, I'm starting to tear up a little bit. :) I went through the whole night just hugging one person and then another, I felt like a monkey swinging from tree to tree. But there were so many faces and at the end of the night, I said goodbye to every one. Granted, most of them (hopefully all of them) are see-you-laters as opposed to goodbyes, that just not how it felt.
At one point during the night, my sister stands in the middle of the room, gathered attention and started a rap song. Apparently she got most of my friends in on it as groups of people from around the room yelled out a line here and there. Simply for entertainment purposes, I include it here for you all to read:

Fresh Princess of Cameroon

Rapped to the beat of "Fresh Prince of Belair"

Written by the Lovely Katie Greenman

Now this is a story set to a tune

About my sister Suzie

Who got sent to Cameroon

So we're gonna take your time, chill out don't be shady

So we can tell you all about this incredible young lady

In the southeast of Fl, born and raised

On the beach in bikini where she spent most of her days

Chillin out, studying, setting the standard for cool

Hitting Alaska and Germany instead of high school

Then the years went by and she headed to Mass

To study premed where MIT kicked her ass

She made a few friends and studied hardcore

And decided that one day she wanted to be called doctor

This summer before she left, she got a new family tree

When she came to live what us a 2 Ossipee

It was this summer that we all came to see

Just how great, fun, and genuine this person can be

She can bake, she can study, she's kinda the best

And if you don't believe it- yo check out her breast!

So she's off to Africa, cause she thought "What the hell?!"

I'm joining the fucking peace corps, it'll be swell

And maybe over there she'll try some new chocolate

Scream Oy Vay as she pop locks and drops it

She's bound to make a difference

We all know we know it

She's got the love seed and is about to grow it

So thanks for your time, attention and joy

And lets love her up before she deploys!

Freaking awesome right?! So that's how my four years in Boston ended, getting "loved up" by my closest friends, toasting, hugging, and crying. Then they were gone and the last goodbyes went out. I had to say goodbye to my little sister, whom I had lived with this summer and spent exorbitant amounts of time with the last three years as we explored Boston and college together. If that is the hardest goodbye I have to say, I will be relieved. 

I'm leaving Boston, looking at the skyline and crying some more (really I'm not normally such a tear works factory) but as I'm writing this, it's all just feeling a whole lot more complete and satisfying. It's fear of losing touch with these people or coming back and finding that our friendships have wasted away that makes this such a terrifying prospect. But if last night was any indication, I don't think that will happen. 

So with my mind reeling, and bags under my eyes from a well-lived lack of sleep, I close this chapter in my live and start the next one. And now my computer is dying, so I'm gonna bounce for now. Thank you all for loving me up!

MCATs down, 3 weeks to go before Cameroooooon!

Hey all,
Again, my marvelous lack of writing has I'm sure left you all salivating for more. Since I last wrote, tons has happened. The most recent, I've taken the MCATs again. Hopefully for the last time. Surprisingly, the earth trembled while I wrote my literary masterpieces of my essays. I could chalk it up to my wit and talent shaking the earth, or I could choose to listen to weathermen who claim it was a freaking earthquake. I mean come on, an earthquake? on the East Coast? That's as unheard of as a hurricane hitting Boston... oh wait.... the rain outside my window is in fact Hurricane Irene.
Anyways, so yeah, as mentioned on facebook, I'm no longer going to Turkmenistan. I'm headed to Camerooooooon! Honestly, I can hardly say the name without thinking of one of those coyote cartoons jumping up and squeaking the name with eyeballs bulging out. But I digress, again. Basically, the program was cancelled for Turkmenistan and I was one of a lucky few who don't have to wait six months for an assignment. I'll be in Cameroon doing Preventative Health Education; teaching them about STDs and diseases they can contract from dirty water and such. I will admit, I'm relieved. I was excited about going to Turkmenistan and working with women in particular, especially post partum. I even harbored some hopes that I would learn about midwifery (Russian's claim to have preserved the only long lost form of "real" midwifery, according to some sources). In this new position, I won't necessarily be working with women on women's issues or health. Although that's not to say that I can't. The great part about this new placement, from what I understand, is that it's more flexible. I'll be able to check out my village (or city) and help decide what they might need. It might take more initiative and creativity on my part, but it feels like it could be extremely exciting.
I've been reading blogs from people in country now and just returning, and I got to say, it sounds like I'm in for a ride. Showers out of buckets, electricity on Tuesday and Saturday mornings before 2 am, mountain biking and dog eating. Everything I read makes me crave more information, more photos, more testimonies. To break down some facts, for those of you who don't know:

Cameroon:
Where? The armpit of Africa
Language: French, and English are the main ones with over 200 native languages (since there are pygmies in the rainforest, its possible click is one of them, although probably not).
Money: CFA about 475:1 USD
Religions: Melting Pot
I will be sleeping with mosquito nets.
I hope to learn to play drums.
There don't appear to be many lions in backyards.

That's all I really know so far, but I'm looking into more info. I do know that when I get there I will get a cell phone and this will be my first address:

Suzie Greenman
Peace Corps Trainee
Corps de la Paix
B.P. 215
Yaoundé, Cameroon

I'll spend the first 11 weeks in training, both rural and semi-urban, probably living with a host family or two before heading out to my post which is where I'll live for the next two years. I won't get that info till I'm already there. I won't know if I'll be there alone or if another PCV will be in my town or a neighboring one.

The bottom line is, there's tons I don't know. I'm spending the next few days packing and getting out of my summer apartment before being homeless for the next couple weeks. I'll float and start ripping up my roots before heading to another continent to let them settle again.
So that's all for now, bon sior (I remembered that from high school french! whoot!!!!), sleep well and many dreams of flying elephants and great adventures.

Life: Keeping Afloat

I know it's been a while since I wrote, but I really just have been so busy. I know everyone says that as an excuse, but I honestly feel more busy now than I think I ever felt at school. I'm sure that's not true, but it sure feels like it. I spend three days a week leaving my house sometime between 5:30 am and 9 am and not getting back till 2 am. Between work and school, I feel like I'm losing a bit of myself. Ugg, enough griping.

I had a great day today. I met up with a Peace Corps returner from Turkmenistan. We sat over lunch for 2 hours and I still feel like I have more questions than answers. The bottom line I took away though: this is going to be one crazy adventure.

My favorite part of the conversation was the KGB. She had been there in 2003, when the last dictator had created a country that was named "worse country to live in". She told me stories of the KGB reading her mail, opening her packages (which she only got a 1/3 of the time) and living with a constant KGB agent tail on her. Not openly of course, although she said that some of them were pretty obvious. She told me hilarious stories of being on the phone with family back home and as soon as she said something about the government, her phone line cut off. Her friend, who would call home and speak Chinese, would get cut off immediately because the guy tapping and monitoring her phone couldn't understand what she was saying.

Honestly, I feel like this is something out of "The Lives of Others", an amazing German movie about the restricted rights in West Berlin before the wall fell.

She told me horror stories of her host family stealing from her and hilarious stories of being stopped by customs because what was the equivalent of 5$ in manat looked like more than 10,000$ because it was so many bills. She painted this amazing picture for me of like and what it will be like there. But the first thing she said to me when I sat down was "Get rid of all expectations. You'll be lucky if you manage to even start a project, let alone finish one." Between the country being a bit behind the times and the government, I should expect to make no visible difference while I'm there.

This news was kind of shocking, my first question was about well, why would I go if I can't make a difference, but as we continued talking I understood. I shouldn't expect to leave Turkmenistan having made life better for people or having changed the way the health care system works or women's rights. What I think I can count on is making a dent in people's lives with presence, attention, and education.

It's always been my belief that it is possible to save the world with a smile. If someone had smiled at Hitler at just the right time and made him feel just a little bit more loved, maybe he wouldn't have that hate so deeply ingrained to start the movement that he did. If I can make one person's day a little bit better with a smile, why not? It doesn't cost me anything, except maybe a few calories which is all the more reason to. Katie's been walking around the house all evening practicing her Public Speaking speech for her final tonight and what kept jumping out at me was this story:

A man walked down to the Golden Gate Bridge and walked around for a few hours before jumping off and killing himself. When people went to his house later that day, they found a note that said "If one person smiles at me, I won't do it." He must have walked around that bridge and seen hundreds of people, and apparently not a single person smiled at him.

The point I'm getting at is that while I might not be changing the world one giant step at a time, I hope that I can impact a few people's lives, by befriending them, or showing them a new game, or teaching them something new that can improve their lives. I don't have these glorified ideas of what I can accomplish there. But maybe I can just make one person smile, who in turn makes another, who in turn makes another, and so on and so forth. Maybe I can help make one village one inkling happier.

As I'm writing this, I'm thinking, how cliche and naive I must sound. But, you know, I really do believe in a little going a long way. Maybe I am naive. Maybe this will be a good opportunity to learn about the world and how it "really" works. Who knows.

However, this is still months away. Right now, I'm sitting at my computer, MCAT books on either side of me, with an AMCAS book in front of me. I need to keep my perspective, Peace Corps is just a stepping stone. I have med school to prepare for, and the MCATs to study for.

And on that note, I look at the time and realize how late it is. MCAT class in the morning. I'm leaving this post feeling not entirely satisfied that I've finished it, thought it all the way through. Maybe I'll have more complete thoughts by the next time I post (much sooner hopefully). To all a good night and a smile.

The Invitation

I've waited for today for months. I've dreamed about this white envelope coming to change my life, to make my dreams come true, to open new worlds to me. I never imagined I would be so thrown off, so scared. Yes, I'm scared. I'm scared of what could happen, of what I might learn, or not learn, of what kind of person might come out of this adventure.
It started months ago. I applied almost a year ago to the Peace Corps. I had been laying in bed one night, summer before my senior year in college, asking myself "What do I want to do with my life?" I was nervous about graduation and what might come afterwards. I kept asking myself, "what do I want to do?" Exasperated, it took hours to get a full answer from myself. People rarely admit how hard it is to answer that question. But really, it takes so much effort. You need to decide to take your life and your decisions into your own hands instead of letting life flow, and you a leaf riding down it with no direction to call your own. But I did, I took the reins and answered that question. I want to go abroad. I want to learn a new language, a new culture. I want to use my skills as a health provider. I want to make a difference.
Oh how cheesy: I want to make a difference. Cookie cutter pre med line. But honestly, that is my main goal right now. I don't mean I want to change the world. I highly doubt that an insignificant little girl can make that sort of difference. No. I want to touch the world. I want to touch as many people as possible and make each of their lives just a little bit better. From a smile, to a hug, to saving a life. If I can make one experience a little bit better, I have made a difference. Maybe it will butterfly effect and save the world, or maybe one more happy person will tip the godly scales in our favor; who knows what impact that will have on the world? There's no way to know, or measure, or even guesstimate. So that will continue to be my goal, until a better one comes along.
Anywho... back to the Peace Corps. Long story short, I applied as a back up plan. I didn't want to go anywhere or commit to anything for 27 months, but as the application process went on, as I read amazing stories, I grew to love the idea. Having lived in Germany for only 11 months wasn't enough. That was when you were just getting the hang of it.
I continued in the application process: the shots, the appointments, the endless forms. After months of trying to get the right medical documentation (that's a whole other story altogether), I was medically cleared. I almost cried in relief. At this point, I knew I wanted to do this. At night, I'd have dreams of being in Africa, living in a mud hut, teaching about AIDS. I was so ready.
Then, last week, I got an email from my placement officer, saying she had questions for me. After a long discussion, she tells me African nomination has been filled.
"But do not despair fair lady" she says (I'm paraphrasing). "I have found the perfect placement for you." Working in a clinic on disease prevention and working with women and children. Perfect. I literally jumped for joy. As a hopeful OBGYN, this sounded amazing. There were so many thoughts going through my head. Maybe I can work on women programming, empower women, help them. I started imagining how I could make a difference, but honestly, I was still imagining myself in Africa.
"And where might I be going?" I asked. (also paraphrasing, in an English accent) Funny thing: she couldn't tell me over the phone. I felt like this was some top secret CIA stuff going on. "We can't talk countries over the phone, but think Central Asia. Your invitation is in the mail."
Central Asia, what did that mean? Nepal? India? Mongolia? I honestly had no idea. It couldn't be the middle east, I'm Jewish. I told them explicitly I wasn't willing to hide my religion. Endless possibilities went through my head. I imagined myself somewhere learning from monks about Buddhism, maybe working on a rice paddy.
Saturday, I haunted the desk to my dorm, waiting for the mail to be sorted. I even bribed the desk worker with baked goods my mom had sent me if she could send me an email as soon as the mail came. Nothing. Crap. I would have to wait till Monday.
Sunday passed slowly, trying to procrastinate studying for an exam on Wednesday. I ended up watching the Event on Hulu.
Monday came. The envelope wasn't on the forefront of my mind. It wasn't until I got to work and someone asked my about it that I remembered. I immediately opened my mail hoping for an email about a package. I stalked my email for hours. Not 5 minutes went by when I didn't check.
Jen walked by and made a passing comment about it. I exclaimed in exasperation. I don't remember what I said but I tried to convey to her how I was waiting anxiously, checking my mail continuously..... and there it was. I had a package.
I ran out of work, hopping, skipping, jumping to my dorm. Storming the desk. And there it was. I white envelope with my future in it. I ran next door, I didn't want to be alone when I opened it. All the while up the stairs, I couldn't help but imagine myself in various places. On the great wall of china. In thailand, eating Pad Thai. In rural Nepal.
I ripped it open. It was a huge envelope, with a giant blue packet inside. So much information, but I didn't care yet. Where the f*^k am I going? I scanned the welcome letter and missed it entirely, thinking it wasn't there. I started ripping through the packet looking for where it might be. My friend picked up the letter and read it at the same time I found it on the welcome packet: Turkmenistan.
What?

Turkmenistan.

Where the f*&k is Turkmenistan? I'd never heard of it before.

Google came our rescue. It's smack dab in the middle of Iran, Afghanistan, and Kazakhstan.
I was completely shocked. I didn't know how to react. The Middle East? A Jewish Woman. In the Middle East? I didn't know what to think. So I left.
Walking back to work all I could think about was in 10th grade when I found out I was going to Germany. When my mom found out, she vetoed it. No way was she letting me go into the heartland of the country that murdered our family. My grandfather was confused. Why was I choosing to leave the country that he had worked so hard to get himself, and therefore us, into? I didn't have good answers then, when there was really so little threat. What kind of answers would I have now?

Dad took it great. He was excited. He recognized that I would be in the middle of history in the making as Turkmenistan creates a name for itself in the world. He even has a client out there. He's thrilled. I hung up with him confused. He took it so well. Was it ok for me to be feeling so conflicted?
I told people at work. Their reactions went from confused, to worried, to laughing. Everyone had something to say, and yet not a whole lot to say.
Well, people certainly won't be visiting me now.

I got through today. It 12 hours after I received news and I'm sitting here, not sleeping, typing. I'm starting this blog. How do I feel?
I'm scared. Piercings will have to come out. I'll have to wear long skirts and refrain from premarital sex. What if I mess up? What if I get raped? What if I can't handle the oppression? What if I'm not happy? I'm living with a host family? I'm 22. When will I be living on my own? Will I be in the desert? Will people like me? Will I fit in, or stick out like a poor thumb? How am I going to learn Turkmen?
I'm excited. This is an opportunity for me to learn about a culture that I have no idea about. I'd never even heard about it before today. I'll learn two new languages. I'm going to gain perspective. I'm going to be doing exactly what I wanted to do and more, maybe getting paired up with a midwife. I'm going to gain so much perspective and humility. People deal with this every day of their lives. I'll know whether or not I can too. I will be able to. I'll learn so much!
I'm confused. Will I be safe? How will this work? How much education should I do before I go and how much training will they give me once I'm there? Will I have internet?
The packing list is huge and full of things I don't own. There's so much paperwork to be done, forms to fill out, pamphlets to read, emails to write. And yet, here I am writing. I'm not sleeping or writing, reading or planning. I'm contemplating. I'm sharing.

I don't know what the next few hours, day, weeks or months are going to hold. The only thing constant in my life right now is uncertainty. But I'm willing to stand here and share that uncertainty with people. With my family and friends. I'm going to put my thoughts to virtual paper and see if maybe I can bring the people that I care about with me to Turkmenistan. To learn with me, to gain awareness. To know if I'm still alive. But also to support me, guide me and love me when I'm going to need it the most.

This was a long post, but I appreciate you sticking with it. and me. Much love. I'm off to dream of Turkmenistan.