Affectation

August 29th was the big day, the day that each volunteer both looks forward to and dreads, the day the Peace Corps SUV unpacks all our belongings and leaves us, alone, in an unfamiliar village in the middle of an unfamiliar country, which does not speak English.

I was the second volunteer of three to be unloaded from my car.  When Lauren and I left Katie, standing in her courtyard with several men fussing over her house, I felt a slight pang –“oh no! I’m next!”- and had to take a few deep breaths to fight off a slight panic.  It wasn’t long before the Land Cruiser turned off the main road and into the bush.  We seemed to be on that dirt, pothole-filled, road for a good bit of time, and while I was filled with nervous anticipation and excitement, all I could think about was This road is going to be fun to bike on…  good grief!  No wonder all the cars here are off-roaders! 

Finally we pulled up to chez moi! It is a good size, government built building (meaning it’s built out of real construction materials and not mud-bricks), with high ceilings.  It’s right in-between a “road” and a heavily used path.  My burning pit is right next to my house, but as it is the rainy season it is filled with green stagnant water. my Latrine and shower is just off to the right of the front of my house; neither of which are the nicest I’ve seen, but certainly could be way worse.  As soon as the car pulled up we were swarmed by 20 or so “petites” and a couple women.  They didn’t say anything, just stared at the two foreign white chicks and were probably wondering which one of us was moving in.  Finally after a short wait the Major (my counterpart) came with the key to my house.  Since I live in a cereal bank facility, I have 2 rooms, one small and one large, that are not connected.  The Major only had the key to the little room, which was to become my bedroom since it’s the room with windows and screens on the door.  We unpacked my things from the car, the driver changed the lock on my one door, he gave the Major a little spiel about how “I was now his daughter” (or something like that, it was in French), gave me a little pep-talk where he kept repeating “du courage”, I gave Lauren a huge goodbye, and then watched the Peace Corps car drive away as 20 or so strangers stared at me. It was all over in the blink of an eye.                    

The Major told me to sit down under my hanger, but the only piece of furniture Rob had left me was a broken chair, so the Major sent a man to fetch a chair.  Once he returned the Major, this man, and I sat in my courtyard for what seemed like forever.  It was past noon and I was tired, overwhelmed, and starving, but we sat, mainly in silence, with a crowd of children watching us, I’m guessing waiting for the key to my other room to show up (which apparently was with someone in another village).  Another man came with a 20L jug of water, then left and returned with a baguette and 2 cans of sardines for me.  It was only slightly awkward and uncomfortable, especially when the men started talking about my bike (the PC gives us pretty nice, brand new Trek mountain bikes).  Finally then men left me to settle in, after about an hour or so,  …but not the petites. 

I went inside my room and set up my lit pico (woven cot) and started to organize my belongings.  I couldn’t put kitchen or food items in the kitchen, because that door was still locked (it’s PC policy that your stove cannot be in the same room you sleep, so by default the big room was the kitchen), so I just created a “kitchen pile”.  I also didn’t have any other furniture, so I couldn’t unpack my clothes.  So really “unpacking” consisted or moving piles of things into other/more piles of things, all while a group of children watched me with curiosity with their faces pressing against my screen door.  We had been told that we had to set boundaries with the children from the very beginning, but me being timid and quickly learning that the children really don’t speak French, I didn’t know how to politely ask them to leave my hanger.  After one older girl tried to actually open my screen door I had had enough and told them “Bilfu” (Goodbye in Moore) and closed my metal door.  Finally alone, I didn’t know what else to do but curl up on my bed that take it all in (a.k.a. nap). 

A few hours later I head men talking and commotion outside.  I took a little peak and someone had come with the other key.  I didn’t really feel like more awkward interactions in broken French, so I kept my door closed and hoped they didn’t need me.  After a little while, and after the commotion seemed to simmer, I built up the courage to face life.  Also, I really had to pee.  Only one man was left, the one who had brought me water and the food, and he was sweeping out my autra chambre.  I soon learned his name was Roger.  He gave me the key and showed me how to lock the door (the door handle is…  almost finished), and also set up my gas tank and stove (which is on the floor, since I’m sans table).  Then he asked if I needed anything else and bid me goodnight.  The rains soon followed- good omen or bad? 

It was already dark and actually making dinner seemed like a daunting task at that point in time, so I ate a meal bar from a care package I had just received (THANKS MOM!) and curled up on my bed with my head lamp and a book. What a day!