Cameroon?

I'm always a little hesitant to start telling Africa stories -- I'm afraid I'll sound like Higgins in the old "Magnum P.I." TV show.  Remember him?  "There I was in the Congo, surrounded by savages, my only weapon a grapefruit spoon..."

But they're good stories, most of which I can tell in mixed company, so I'll share a few here.

I had "co-op"ed through college with Procter and Gamble, a total of four semesters -- three in Cincinnati and one outside of Dallas.  I worked on coffee -- P&G makes Folger's, and there's all sorts of chemical engineering involved in coffee processing, especially decaffeination.  I enjoyed the work and liked Cincinnati, but by my senior year I felt a strong urge to do something a little different before settling down into my career.  Maybe a little adventure...

I also had a desire to give something back to the world, recognizing I'd been pretty fortunate in life.  At Detroit there was a modest push on campus for people to consider the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, where you spend a year post-graduation working in inner-city USA.  After 5 years in Detroit I'd had my fill of inner-city USA, but the idea of adventure plus volunteer service led me to check out the Peace Corps.

The surprising part of the application process was how competitive it was, as only about 1 in 3 Peace Corps applicants get in.  The more specific you were about what you wanted, the harder it was to get in.  I applied to teach math/science, and asked to be sent someplace where French or Spanish was spoken.  (I had studied Spanish before, and didn't think learning Nepali or Urdu or something would be too useful later.)  Other than that, I was up for anything.

The not-surprising part was how drawn-out the whole process was, as the Corps is indeed part of the federal government.  Lengthy paper applications, then interviews, then stacks of forms, etc.  But in the spring of my senior year I was told I had been accepted, and would be teaching math/science in Cameroon.

Cameroon?

I found it on a map at the library, and found some basics facts: Next to Nigeria, French- and English-speaking, variety of climates, etc.  I read as much as I could find, which wasn't very much.  When I told people what I was doing after graduation I got a variety of reactions as well, from slight disbelief ("I mean, I knew Pat was a little weird...") to envy/admiration.  That was true at home, as well, where the parent who had been in the Navy totally got it, while the parent who had nursed and nurtured me spent the next 2-1/2 years worrying.

In June it was off to Philadelphia for 3 days of initial "training" for our Cameroon math/science group, but the main purpose of this short stay was essentially to ask everyone: Are you sure you want to do this?  And we did have someone drop out (girlfriend reasons, as I recall), saving the taxpayers considerable airfare and hassle.  For the rest (20) of us our collective naivete and optimism could have powered a small town; throw in our collective enthusiasm, and you'd power a city.

Our itinerary was the typical Philadelphia-to-New York-to-Paris-to-Douala-to-Yaounde route that everyone knows so well.  I remember showing that to the skycap at the airport and asking him if we could check our bags all the way through, or if we'd have to get them somewhere along the way.  He said a little indignantly, "We can check 'em through to Hell if you're flying there!"  (He turned out to be right, as ultimately 39 of our 40 bags made it.)

I was too excited to sleep on the overnight flight from New York to Paris, and then we ran around Paris all day before our connecting flight at midnight to Douala.  I couldn't sleep on that leg, either, so I was really running on fumes when we landed the next morning.  When the plane's door opened and we walked down the jetway we were amazed at the early-morning heat and humidity; it was like trying to breathe pudding, and everyone started sweating.

We had our final short connecting flight to Yaounde, then a 1 hour bus ride to our training site in Mbalmayo -- at a Catholic girls' school that had let out for the summer, where we'd learn some French, get some cross-cultural and health training, and generally get acclimated.

In my slightly-weakened state I caught some kind of digestive bug in that first week, and it really knocked me out.  I distinctly remember being in the bathroom for what must have been the eighth time one day, hoping I wasn't going to see internal organs starting to come out, and saying out loud to myself, "Pat, what the hell are you doing in Africa?"

It got better after that.

Pat