L'Américaine au Cameroun

Just a quick note to let you folks know I posted some pictures of my favorite friends in village.

They are:

Alegy, who I have amazing conversations with about history and politics and god and who reminds me that even though I can't speak French, I am not actually an imbecile.

Brenda, who is anglophone, young and not married (nor particularly looking to be), bless her soul.

Leticia, Rosanna and Erika, the daughters of Sylvie and fabulous joys in my life. Leticia hates to wear shoes, Rosanna likes to braid my hair and go for walks, Erika is tall, gangly and full of attitude.

Sylvie. Sylvie is my first real Cameroonian friend. Not someone I just sit with, not someone I just talk with, not someone I just eat with but actually someone who I laugh with, joke with, complain with and sit in comfortable silence with.

Therese, my mama. Therese is in charge of my security and well being. I am not exactly sure how this happened, but somewhere along the way, she became my maman and she buys me cough medicine when I am sick, shines the flashlight for me when it is dark, invites me to all the coolest village parties and answers all the cultural questions I can throw at her.

These seven people make me leave my apartment when I can't face another word of French; they make me forget that I miss the subway, and tortilla chips and the Sunday newspaper. They distract me from considering any moment other than the one we are presently living. These folks define welcoming.