Swearing In

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.

When I returned home, I distributed a few things among the family members—articles of clothing I couldn’t shove into my suitcase and a travel-sized toothpaste that Audrey found fascinating for no discernible reason (you can buy the same ones here)—before heading off to bed for the last time. It was strange, not sleeping under a mosquito net for the first time in two months, and in a more or less empty room, but I suspect I left something more than toothpaste with the Abate family—a new perspective, perhaps, or at the very least, a few happy memories.