Thoughts on Nervousness

I’m currently in a Yaoundé hotel room that I’m sharing with another trainee. The accommodations are better than I expected, with air conditioning, internet access and intermittent running water. We even have a balcony with a beautiful view of the surrounding neighborhood and lots of (what I think are) banana trees.

The last day has been a roller coaster, veering from boredom to activity and a mélange of feelings about what I simply describe as “nervousness.” I’ve remarked to a number of trainees, and most have agreed with me, that we’ve been planning this journey for so long, and contemplating the risks, that most sense of fear or nerves has already dissipated before even getting started. I’m not sure if this is a positive development, but it’s certainly a useful defense mechanism that has allowed me to (mostly) maintain my mental health.

In short, we were ready, come what may. At least, that’s what we thought.

We arrived in Yaoundé yesterday evening, and everything went remarkably smoothly, considering there were 37 sleep-deprived Americans flooding customs. The Peace Corps organizers did a wonderful job getting everyone through efficiently and without too much trouble for the other passengers on our flight. It wasn’t until we were all loaded on the bus ready to head to the hotel with our dozens of suitcases stowed below that anything dramatic happened.

And just when we thought that we were ready, that we had already conquered our fear and nervousness, we had our first attempted theft.

“Hey, that guy is walking away with my bag,” said one trainee, a small woman with glasses, and within seconds, one of our liaisons was chasing the young man, jumping barriers and grabbing him by his belt loop. I couldn’t tell what exactly happened afterwards, as it was dark and I wasn’t wearing my glasses, but it seemed like a small group of men starting hitting the man who had taken the backpack.

Luckily, nothing was lost and no one was seriously hurt. But it was an important lesson to not get too comfortable and complacent. The nerves have returned somewhat, but not in the form of paranoia, just vigilance.

I stared out the window of the bus as we rode to the hotel, staticky songs from a local radio station playing over the sound system. It seems like Yaoundé is a lively place, even on a Thursday night. We passed a number of bars with brightly colored strings of lights, mini-marts still open at 10 o’clock at night, a 24-hour bakery, and a wedding celebration. The bride was a beautiful young woman wearing a white tea-length dress with a sort of satin finish, and as we passed by, she waved to us and spun in circles, like a little girl playing dress-up, her dress catching in flashes the light from the bar next door. She’s a symbol, I think, of what Cameroon is to me at this moment: Beautiful, enticing, and intrigued at our presence, but not quite inviting.

I hope I have the pleasure of making her acquaintance.