Nura Suleiman

When I was five, I was convinced that I was going to be the future manager of the Plaza Hotel in New York City.  I would have a dog, just like Eloise, who I assumed would, naturally, be my neighbor.   Our dogs would have play dates together in Central Park whilst we dined over crumpets and tea, and gossiped about the hottest celebs.  Fast-forward seventeen years later, and here I am, living in an African village, in the middle of nowhere (Bamendjou, Cameroon to be precise), where I occasionally have running water and electricity, my best friend is the five-year-old across the street (whom I swear, when he’s not picking his nose and covered in dirt, is a dead ringer for Will Smith), and though I did have a dog for a brief period, we both got fleas, so, sadly, doggie play dates are a pipe dream of the past.

But I digress—first, the logical progression of how I ended up in Cameroon.  College was an oasis of culture, liberalism, and academia.  I ended up, somewhat miraculously, with a degree in Middle East History, delving into the world of Arabic and Middle Eastern Politics.  While most of my classmates joined the successful world of capital earning employees, I’m able to apply my close to a fifth of a million dollar education here as an agro-forestry extension agent with the U.S. Peace Corps in francophone Sub-Saharan Africa.  Aside from the obvious earning potential, the Peace Corps offered me a chance to exhale the Middle East and take a breath in of Africa.  When I arrived, I was, shall we say, a little in over my head.

But things have gotten better.  Luckily, I live in an amazing village that has the most wonderful sense of humor and appreciates the fact that they have more to teach me than I them.  I have tons of projects that keep me busy—everything from teaching business classes, to planting trees with environmental education groups, to installing solar water systems so that people can have potable water at an affordable price.  In my wildest dreams I never thought that this was what I’d be doing now.

Peace Corps attracts all kinds of people—do-gooders, overachievers , future politicians, resume builders, and mostly, a lot of intrepid travelers that figured the best thing they could do was put off life for another two and a half years.  I always wonder what camp I belong to—perhaps an ambitious vagabond?

A part of me thinks that Peace Corps has sent me down the path of international development.  I now know that I can go seven days without a shower, and still like myself the next morning.  (Do diplomats feel that way too?  I’m not so sure).  I like the fact that I can live off the land (though I do splurge and buy cheese in the provincial capital every so often), eat insects without squirming, and successfully carry a bucket almost ten feet on my head before I slip, fall, and cover myself in water—much to my dismay, and the children across the street’s delight.  I love that I live in another language— though the heavy spellchecking whilst writing this text leads me to believe that I’ve lost fluency in my native tongue.  But mostly I love that Peace Corps has given me time: time to process college, time to read all the assigned books left unopened, time to live a life I would have otherwise never known, time to live in a country that I can now call home, and time to prepare for whatever’s next.  I’m not exactly sure what the future holds for me, but thank god I have 564 more days to figure it out.

- Nura Suleiman

Illustration by Gustaf von Arbin