overcoming fear travelling on the bus

On Friday I went in to Maroua to collect my monthly allowance and buy a fan.

I knew where the bus station was, but it’s a procedure. You pay for a ticket then you wait for your name to be called. On Friday I waited over 2 hours as there were so many people there the first mini bus that came was full. These are basically clapped out 12 seater mini buses that are packed with 20 plus people. I’ve already had to climb out from the back seat because I got claustrophobic which is quite shameful, but I just couldn’t handle it any more than I can cope getting in a car without back doors.

The journey to Maroua is 30kms on unpaved road full of potholes with everything rattling about and takes about an hour if it doesn’t break down. Then I had to get a moto to the office and the guy took me to the wrong place and I had to get a map out and insist he take me to the right place. Basically then I had just about enough time to go to the market by moto, buy a fan, go by moto with the fan back to the bus station and come home, but I worked out the process, I know now where it arrives in Maroua and when you do it once it becomes less frightening.

On Saturday I helped Eve, the education VSO volunteer with her workshop. This ended about 2. Lara had gone away to Waza park with a friend, Eve was going in to Maroua to her boyfriend’s and I knew that there was a group of volunteers meeting up in a village further south for the week-end. I could either stay in Bogo alone or make an effort to launch myself into the network and be sociable. I already missed a group event the week-end previous as I had just arrived.

I have also had my wrist slapped by Hadja, the mum of the compound so I was feeling a bit low – more on that later.

Anyway I got the bus back to Maroua, a moto across Maroua to a crossroads and another minbus to Motourowha arriving after about 3 hours as it became pitch black. I was scared and wondering if I had made a dreadful mistake. Was I in the right village even? Anyway, it all worked out well in the end as the others were just coming back from a walk, two came to collect me and we all had a meal together, slept on the floor in two volunteers’ houses, went for a walk this morning and then I came all the way back to another telling off from Hadja.

The 2 things I have done wrong are to bring a carpenter into the house to fix the broken bed, chair and build a frame for my hammock. Apparently she does know the guy, but told me off anyway because of voleurs or bandits as they call them and she goes on and on. Apparently I should just wait until someone they decide fixes it, but they’d already made one botch job and when I can’t speak the language I could wait for ever. The second thing I did wrong was not tell her I was going away which I sort of knew I should do but felt a bit rebellious about after the first ticking off. I think I am being punished by not being invited to eat tonight, but heh ho, maybe we need to start as I mean to go on and I don’t want to be too hen pecked by this woman and I can live without her food.

I was glad I made the effort to be sociable. I’ve sort of broken the ice with the group and shown willing to join in even though many of them will be leaving in the next 6 months. I met William who has married the much younger Cameroonian woman. I listened and listened to stories of those who have been here 2-4 years and are about to go home and I saw other ‘village’ VSO houses which are worse than mine. They didn’t have an inside toilet or shower areas, but holes in the ground outside and circles of flat stones as shower areas. It made me appreciate that my concession is clean and I am going to have to maintain a good working relationship with Hadja.

So not really enough time to get bored. I am forcing myself well outside my comfort zone because I have chosen to be here and I am going to give it my best shot.