So a bunch of volunteers are all together right now, celebrating the end of IST (In Service Training) and enjoying the last moments of our free hotel rooms and all the perks of city living... air conditioner, A POOL (!!!!), pizza, eating an entire block of cheese, boxed wine straight from the box, electricity, fan milk (which is kind of like ice cream, but not really in the slightest), other people who can speak your language, sharing new music/movies/tv shows... et choses comme ca.
Right now we are playing a game where we try to name our biography, and here are some of the best ones to describe my life:
Malaria of the Face: The Camille Harper Story
(Everyone is always very very concerned with how awful my skin is here. Everyone in my village gestures to my face and asks me in Fulani what's wrong with my face, and since I'm unable to answer in Fulani I just gesture to the sun, or to water, or to any likely or unlikely scapegoat or actual goat. The absolute best time was when I had malaria and I met with the doctor and he asked me if my skin problems was a symptom of malaria... hence malaria of the face.)
Pamudo, what do you think you're doing? The Camille Harper story
(I already explained that my village name is Pamudo, right? Everything I say, do, or try to do, everyone thinks I'm acting a fool.)
Things Falling on my Face: The Story of Camille
(During my two week post visit, when I visited my site for the first time during training, I was staying in my house and the women, in their excitement, gave me a headboard and a footboard to prop up on the wall. It doesn't actually connect or prop up a bed, but they were really excited for me to have it and it proved to be very useful when I hung up my mosquito net. One night, towards the end of my two week visit, I grabbed a handful of mosquito net and pulled gently, accidentally pulling the entire headboard with it. It came falling towards me in slow motion, so I very confidently put out my hand to catch it, only for the metal bar to sail right past my hand and smash into my face. I had an awesome bruise on my face when I met back up with all the volunteers I trained with, and naturally they all thought it was hilarious.
To add to the things-falling-on-my-face phenomena, about a week ago I was trying to hang up curtains in my house. I don't have a hammer but I was able to use my beninese hoe, which is basically just a club with a metal plate stuck loosely into it. So I was hammering away, so proud of my homemaking skills and ingenuity, when the metal plate flew out and hit me in the face. AGAIN. But now I have a pretty awesome scar from the gash I had on my face for a week. And the next day, when all the women were tasking what happened, I just blamed it on the sun. If they can blame malaria on the sun (which they do all the time here) then I can certainly blame a gash in my face on the sun.)
PAMUDO ARE YOU SLEEPING RIGHT NOW? BECAUSE WE'RE GONNA TALK TO YOU IN FULANI AND PEEK IN YOUR WINDOWS UNTIL YOU COME OUTSIDE AND SAY HI: A Volunteer's Story
(This is pretty straightforward actually, but this is how I'm woken up almost on the daily. And my window is right over my bed so the women will just come to my window and peer down at me while I'm laying in bed. I's not a great thing.)
Other contenders -
Living with Giardia: The Camille Harper story
Do I have to eat that? A Volunteer's Life in Benin
How to get away with Washing your Hair once a Month: A Guide to Surviving Peace Corps
Sitting Around and Watching the Chickens
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