So, we’re officially Peace Corps Volunteers. All 37 of us
made it through training and swore in, which was a pleasant surprise to some.
I don’t want to say that the ceremony was a let-down, but
maybe it was blown out of proportion by the way people described it beforehand.
The U.S. diplomat to Cameroon and various representatives of Cameroonian
ministries were in attendance, which was an honor, but our role seemed to be
that of fifth-graders graduating from elementary school: We all wore matching
outfits, did a cute little presentation, and shuffled around awkwardly, since
nothing was rehearsed.
I will admit, there was one solemn, profound moment (for me)
when we all stood with our right hands raised and said the oath of service in
unison. At that moment, I felt connected to the 36 other Volunteers that I’d
spent the previous two months of my life with, as well as the thousands of
people who have taken the oath before us. Call me cliché, or sentimental. I
know that for some it was rather anti-climactic after two months of intense
instruction, cultural shocks, illnesses, and hardships, but for me it was
enough to celebrate with my fellow Volunteers and my Cameroonian family.
Following the ceremony, I was interviewed by a couple of
media outlets, including CRTV, the national TV channel, so I’m sure I’m a
national celebrity by now.
Lunch was at Le Cercle Municipal, probably the nicest
restaurant in Ebolowa, and all of our host families were invited, as the meal
also served as an appreciation ceremony for the families. I was slightly
disappointed, since the soap opera playing on the big screen TVs drowned out
most conversation, and the buffet ran out of fried plantains before I got
through the line, but I was glad that Mama Isabelle and Crystal got a small
token of appreciation in the form of a nice meal and a certificate from Peace
Corps.
I spent the next few hours packing the remainder of my
belongings (most had already been sent on to Ngaoundere), and at about 6:30,
Mireille (the volunteer next door) and I headed to the training center for a
celebratory bonfire. I had a warm whiskey Coke and watched part of Team
America, which was great fun, but by 9 it was becoming clear to me that this
was one of those times when you remember that alcohol is a depressant. Maybe it
was due to fatigue, or nervousness about traveling the next day, but it was
time for me to go home. Upon further reflection, I think what forced me to
return home was the sad realization that many of these people had built
significant bonds with one another during training, and while I’m certainly
friendly with most of them, I don’t think any of them would consider me a
friend.
"Hello, Lydia Fankhauser, I'm a PeaceCorps Volunteer, and I'm going to teach English here". I wish that make you feel glad by just saying that loud in front of your host family, your friend, or anybody who'll met and introduce yourself. I wish.
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