These past couple of weeks have flown by. I’ve been very busy with my independent study project (hence the lack of postings). And now, it is coming to a close. I’ve loved my daily life here...especially the mornings. I thought I'd write about them a little bit here.

My official alarm goes off at six, and after getting dressed, I go to the kitchen to help my host Mom with her cooking. She usually prepares coffee and tea, and either an omlette or red beans with tomato. I still am quite clumsy at her electric burner, so she usually gives me the work of buying the nessesary ingrediants at the boutique right outside the walls. She never sends me with a list, but will give me exact change and send me multiple times for individual ingrediants as she needs them. 50 CFA of cooking oil. 2 tomatoes. 100 CFA of sugar. This makes sense, considering the kitchen is so small-- there really isn't room to store a weeks worth of groceries, as I do at my home in the states.

My host Mom watches TV while we eat breakfast (she likes to eat later). It still blows my mind that even though she is my Mom, she is only a month older than me. The fact that she is responsible for two children makes her seem so much more older, so much more mature than I will be anytime soon. Sometimes I wonder who I would be if I had been born into her family. And, sometimes, I think about who she would be if she were American, or a student at Pomona with me. Would we be friends? Who would she hang out with? I think about this almost every morning as I watch her watch TV. Sometimes she likes to sit sort of upside down in her easy chair, throwing her legs over the top or over the side. I like to sit like that at home.

Sometimes other people in the compound drop by to say good morning. I still can't get over the greeting rituals in Fulfulde. The two people greeting one another speak in a consistently low, monotone pitch. Jam na? Jam. Jam ban du ma? Jam ko du me. A fini jam na? Oho mi fini jam. How are you? Fine. Are you doing well? I'm doing greatm. Did you sleep well? I slept well. Much of the same small talk that people make in the states. At first, I didn't get it . From my perspective, it didn't seem like either of the parties really cared about the answers to the questions. The tone seems so bored, and much of the time, the two people don't maintain eye contact. But then again, the greeting ritual in the states would probably seem just as bizarre to an outsider. Why do Americans pretend to care so much about the answers to petty questions like "how are you?" when the answers are always the same?

After breakfast I head into town to work. I usually start out at the cyper cafe, either to write, type up notes, or look up background information online. It is essential to get to the cyper cafe in the morning, because it fills up fast in the afternoon (but you can usually get a computer if you slip in during hours of prayer). The cyper cafe is pretty open air, and its easy to see everyone's business. A guy from Jordan, here almost everyday, cruises Cameroonian dating sites for hours on end. The couple a few computers down is on the state department site, looking for visa information.

Right now, my morning is over and I must run to lunch. Thanks for reading! I can't wait to see everyone again soon.