(Dis)orientation, day 1

There was no need for an alarm clock today: the forest woke up at 4.30am and the calls of all sorts of animals woke us up. We have been supplied with a cupboard of food, mostly labeled in French. Breakfast was porridge (our grocery supply included Quaker oats!), once Clarke got the gas supply to the cooker turned on and the cooker working (neither of us are too familiar with gas cookers). Most people around us speak French but every so often when greeting people with “Bonjour”, we are answered in English. Corner shops exist, but not like the typical Spar we have at home: roadside traders sell their wares, from a table or from the container they are carrying (often on their head!). The main road junction clearly looks like a UK 'Give Way' layout, but it isn't: traffic from three directions slows, avoids the pedestrians and everybody else seems to know the rules.

Shirley Troyer (from Utah), working with SIL, is in charge of our orientation process. So much of what she has been telling us is the sort of things most of the locals probably treat as common-sense: money; introductions to locals (a longer process of introductions and greetings reinforce social bonds and convey more information than our “Bout ye?” - “Fine”); lightly bleaching fresh fruit and veg (as my grandmother's generation would have done, before the supermarkets brought it pre-packed). Along with the Robinsons we have been joined by Allen Pickett, another RFIS newbie and Presbyterian minister from Michigan whose family will be arriving later this year.

We have a rota of hosts for main meals – just as well! Some days we'll be out with the Robinsons, some days with Alan. Julia Baker (from California), host to Alan and ourselves this evening, along with Don Brubaker and Alison MacKay (RFIS Maths teacher, from Ohio). The lasagne was delicious and mango made an excellent substitute for yellow pepper in the tossed salad: we will have to get used to not being able to get just about anything from a supermarket. On the plus side, we will not have to worry about the environmental cost of flying our food half-way round the world: with an excellent selection of locally grown produce, surely being open to new or modified recipes will be better for us?

Fed and watered, Julia drove us back home via busy streets and an overhead banner in place, anticipating President Paul Biya's return home from France, roughly translated as: “Welcome home Mr President. One word: Continue (in the job).”

There's a lot to take in. No doubt, a month from now we will be fine but it feels a little like a first swimming lesson – the instructor says you will be fine, your heart trusts the instructor but your hand is still flapping to reach the safety-rail at the side.