As I look at the dates of my last entry it’s been a long time since my last posting.  It doesn’t seem that long to me.  I don’t intend to be so tardy in posting, but I have a choice of living the experience or writing about it.  I’ve been choosing living it, because I don’t know if I’ll have another opportunity like this one again.  My apologies to those of you who are waiting each entry.

            As I think everyone knows I had a visit from my son, Zachary; at the end of march.  I’ve begun writing about that and I hope to complete an entry on it soon – Inchallah! (God willing)

            In the weeks prior to his arrival I came down with another of those precious stomach bugs.  Some of the local folks here believe I got it from drinking Bil-Bil the traditional alcoholic drink made from the resin of some tree and brewed at home by the mamas.  It’s serve in canaries and you drink it from a calabash.  It’s really cheap ($1 for a very large pitcher), it taste pretty good, you drink outside sitting on benches or mats, and the comrades are pretty interesting and funny.  However, it absolutely doesn’t meet AMA, FDA, HHS, and a host of other standards, and my fragile American physique seems to have reacted to these US government infractions.  Several days later I started with diarrhea, fatigue, loss of appetite, and general lethargy.  I managed to meet all my work obligations, but it was difficult in the heat, dust, and my sickly condition.  I must say that these bugs are great weight losing vehicles.  I believe I’ve achieved my ideal weight.  So there you go US health establishment, I’ve found a natural, non-addictive way to weight loss.

            As soon as I recovered from the three weeks it takes to pass this bug, Zach arrived.  So off I went on an 18 day whirlwind tour of Cameroon.  In the process abandoning my home, my post, and all things comfortable, which had already been ignored during my illness.

            After Zach flew back  to the other side of the world, I returned home.  There was no food in the house, no juices, very little filtered water, the house was covered in dust, unpacking my bags created chaos in my small house as I sorted things to be ironed, washed, or stored away.  I began to reclaim the house, do some cooking and cleaning.

            My work still waited for me, and folks began to call me asking when I would return, to yell at me for not bringing my son to their home or village or workplace to be introduced.  The Cameroonians are like that – meeting family of friends is very important to them.  Within a few days of returning I was fully engaged again.

            I’m teaching 12 sessions of business classes a week (2 hours each session) for 6 different groups in Garoua and surrounding villages.  I need to prepare for each one, and I need to record attendance and grades,  and correct homework for each session.  In addition, I have some individual projects that I consult with offering advice and encouragement.  I’m working 6 days a week and defending my Sunday off with as much energy as I can muster.  For the most part I’ve succeeded in protecting Sunday, but it is at the cost of not helping a group of women in a small village near Garoua who only meet on Sunday.  It breaks my heart, but I just can’t do it.  Sunday’s I try to do nothing, but I usually end up on my laptop posting grades or preparing for the next week’s classes, and cooking stew and sauces for the upcoming week.

            Well, it’s been two weeks since I started this post and had to put it aside.  The sun and the heat have been intense and relentless.  In this region you don’t go into the sunshine, you go through it.  The sun`s rays feel more like a gas as you push through it.  You can almost see the rays move around your body the way the vapors in a steam room swirl as you enter.  Initially you feel the rays on your skin, and in a few minutes you feel the rays penetrating to the next layer, and then the next.  Sweat begins to cover your skin but evaporates almost as quickly in the dry air, and a thin layer of salt covers your body.  When you find the next oasis of shade, you can feel the grit of the salt and taste it on your upper lip. 

            Finally, on Thursday night it rained!  It was wonderful!  Of course the electricity went off and I was in complete darkness.  The temperature dropped by maybe 30 degrees (that means it probably dropped to 90).  It was so refreshing as I lay on my bed and just listened to the patter on the tin roof and the ground outside.  Around 11:30pm it stopped.  The quiet and the coolness were overwhelming.   I couldn’t sleep, so I went outside.  I live in a compound surrounded by 8-10 foot cinder block walls.  So I went outside “au naturel”.  I just soaked in the cool air.  After so many months of unremitting heat, I could feel the cool ear entering my nostrils, my eyes, my mouth and my pores.  My whole body was breathing. 

            Just so no one thinks that I’ve lost all sense of propriety and modesty I did have on a pair of sandals.

            Before the rain I had developed a heat rash.  It started on my chest and spread to my neck, arms and was beginning to appear on my face.  It was itchy and uncomfortable.  The medical office had sent me powder and a medication to it get under control.  But the morning the cooler temperatures had put it in remission.  Several rains have occurred since the initial storm and the rash is gone, temperatures are more bearable, green is returning to the landscape.