Dry Season

Being a country located in the tropics, Cameroon's climate consists of two seasons; rainy season, and dry season. In the northwest region of the country the rainy season begins around March and lasts until about November. I have yet to experience a full rainy season in Enyoh, but the months of August and September alone gave me more rain than I'd seen in my seven years combined in San Diego. So I was beyond happy when October arrived. Not only is this the month of my birthday, it is also the beginning of the transition from rainy season to dry season. During this month rain only falls a few times a week as opposed to three times a day, or three days straight without stopping. As a result of the changing weather I now had much more freedom in regards to how I spent my days. I could travel on almost any particular day if I needed to. This was in stark contrast to the previous two months. I remember one particular storm where I had to wait for three days before I could find a motorcycle that would go down to Batibo. But during this transitional period the roads become far less treacherous. By November the rains were even less frequent, happening only once or twice a week, with hardly any heavy storms. And in late November villagers would comment every time it rained, saying that this was highly unusual and that the rain should not be falling this late in November. They blame the new weather patterns on climate change, maybe so.
With the arrival of December I left Enyoh for Bamenda for over a week of in-service training with everyone else that I had initially trained with in Ebolowa. It was great to see everyone, but also sad to note those that were no longer with us. Our training group started with 37, but now we were only 28. For one reason or another friends of ours made their way back to America. And for as much as I've talked about how much I enjoy life here, this should be an indication that it's also not always easy. The training in Bamenda was drearily boring at times, but much of what we learned was immensely valuable as well. Also, seeing friends that we had been separated from for over three months was quite enjoyable, and we all made the most of our time together. On a few nights we even did our best to paint the town and promote America's already impeccable international reputation. But before long we all headed back to our respective villages. Lucky for me I was only an hour away so the journey back was familiar and simple. But after being around so many Americans it seemed like I had been away from Enyoh for much longer than a week, and fitting back into community life would once again be an adjustment. As the motorcycle rolled down the hill into Enyoh I took in my surroundings. Everything seemed more or less the same, although there appeared to be a slight haze lingering. The mountain peaks that surrounded me were now somewhat obscured. Then I noticed that all the plants along the road were no longer green, but instead reddish orange. Were plants already beginning to die due to lack of water? As I stopped next to my house and was paying the bike driver, I saw my young neighbor coming to welcome me back. Just as he began to greet me the bike sped away leaving a billowing cloud of dust in his wake. We both began coughing, and just as the dust subsided the young boy looked up at me somewhat in despair and said, "This dust is too much." Then a large pickup truck passed kicking up even more dust. And as I looked at the houses by the road I saw that they too now had the same reddish hue. So this was dry season, and this is what I had to deal with for the next two months.
As it turned out, the dust wasn't too much of a problem for me. With my house being far enough from the road it was something I didn't have to deal with while at home. But in places like Batibo and particularly Bamenda the air quality was noticeably effected. The smog that lies over Bamenda is somewhat reminiscent of Los Angeles. However, with Enyoh being at a higher altitude, and with their being very little vehicle traffic, dust is something hardly dealt with on a day to day basis. Although, when traveling I had to always bring an extra pair of clothes due to the fact that by the end of a bike ride I would be completely covered in dust. All things considered, dry season still seemed to be more desirable than rainy season, that is of course, until you run out of water.
My home has a bathroom with working indoor plumbing, which not very many volunteers outside of the Northwest can boast. But Enyoh is still in the process of installing its' water supply throughout the village. So for the time being my water supply is located in a large container behind my house, specifically a plastic cube about four feet by four feet, which is essentially a small water tower. As January approached I noticed that my water supplies were running low. I would soon need to start carrying water from one of the local sources. Our school has a tap which is about ten minutes away from my house. So I bought two twenty liter jugs and began the daily task of bringing water into my home. When you are carrying the water you use daily you become a lot more conservative with how you use it. I made sure to wash dishes and clothes with the minimum amount of water necessary. And when flushing my toilet I subscribed to the age old adage, "If it's yellow let it mellow and if it's brown... well... let it mellow for a bit as well and eventually flush it down." Yes, times were tough, and to add insult to injury, it didn't seem as if I had gotten any stronger from carrying all that water. But as is often said here, we were managing. Then, one February afternoon, a few drops of rain fell. I knew now that dry season was finally coming to an end. I inspected my house and saw that I needed to fix a section of the gutters that led to my rain water tank. I promptly resolved the issue, balanced precariously on a bamboo ladder, while banging the plastic gutters back into place with my fist. I was now ready for the rain to fall, and that day, as my aged knee had predicted, the rains came. I smiled, listening to the sound of raindrops on my metal roof, which quickly became a torrential downpour. I opened my backdoor to see how much water has been collected. To my dismay, the water level hadn't risen at all! I inspected the gutters, they weren't leaking. Then I realized the cap on the top of the container must have still been screwed on. So I climbed to the top of the container with the aid of a small rickety wooden ladder that had been left in my backyard from the construction crew that was working on my house back in August. Trying my best not to slip and fall into the muddy river below I saw that the cap was indeed still screwed on. I hastily removed it and saw I had to reposition the end of the gutter leading into the container. By the time I had everything in place I was drenched, and the thunder from the storm was growing louder with every boom. But I had to be sure that there were no more problems so I waited to see the water successfully enter the container without obstruction. And after only a few moments I was delighted to see water rushing into my small plastic water tower. This meant the days of me carrying water, along with having to make compromises in regards to flushing my toilet were through! Dry season was over! I now had running water once again! The realization hit me all at once, and with lightning flashing overhead I started maniacally yelling out, "Wata! Wata!" My neighbors were sitting on their porch watching the rain and when they saw this scene they all burst into uncontrollable laughter while saying to each other, "White man done gone mad!" Of course, they were in some ways right. Dry season had taken a toll on me, and made me slightly insane. But now that was in the past, and I would have my sanity again, well, at least until next dry season.