Affecter (Friday, 2011 April 22)

April 22, 2011

Affecter means "assigned", and sometimes "reassigned". Thus, teachers are "affected" to schools, and because teachers are technically civil servants, that’s where they go. We’re not technically civil servants, but we’ve been assigned to our posts too. Well, for the most part. There are so few ICT volunteers that we get a little bit more leeway. […]

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Désequilibré (Saturday, 2011 April 16)

April 16, 2011
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[Retcon: Zhenae is now spelled differently, so as to be pronounced in English. I’m also thinking about the changing the human language to not be English, like let’s say "Panlac". This chapter’s a little weaker; it’s just to get towards the next chapter, which is considerably juicier.] The less said about that night before we […]

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Sahel (Thursday, 2011 April 14)

April 15, 2011
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Maroua is the capital of the Extreme North region, which (together with the North and the Adamawa regions) are called the "Grand North". The first, best way to access the Grand North is via the train, which goes from Yaoundé to Ngaoundéré, and then buses from there as normal. As you take the bus to […]

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Se tromper (Wednesday, 2011 April 13)

April 13, 2011

One thing I utterly love in French is the verb se tromper, "to make a mistake", but literally "to fool oneself". Be careful because tremper, "to soak", sounds almost exactly the same. Mnemonic: "trompe l’oeil", which we adopted into English, means "fool the eye", or idiomatically "optical illusion". It’s dangerous to argue from etymology, of […]

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Springbroken (Friday, 2011 April 8)

April 8, 2011

Spring break is almost over, and I’m on the long journey back to post. It’s been a long, strange trip and overall I’d count it as a success. I hope to write about it later, once I figure out how to leave out all the important parts. For the time being, here’s a picture we […]

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Aléatoire (Saturday, 2011 April 2)

April 2, 2011
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The GPS trail would probably tell the story better than I could. I’ve seen it overlaid on a map of Capital City, and it doubles back in lines and knots, tangles like my hair on a sweaty day. Also like my hair, I’m perversely proud of it. It’s a scar on my informational life like […]

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