Yaoundé and nights

We rolled into Yaoundé and met a stubborn traffic jam that refused to budge for no car; it was made all the more frustrating because we were 20 yards from the bus station. We waited and sweated. Car horns and the French language were in my ears and crazy-faced men demanded I take their taxi to wherever I wanted to go.

The city redeemed itself once we got on the open road, a road that curves and wriggles through modern buildings and shacks, rolling hills that evoked the sensation of being on a rollercoaster. It had a lovely, charming atmosphere as trees lined the streets and the roads seemed to have a semblance of order (how wrong first appearances can be.)

We arrived at Aloys uncle’s house and had a beer, which is up there with one of the best beers of my life; it fell down my parched throat as rain pelted the roof of our rather sumptuous temporary new abode. I was happy to be in Yaoundé. Ernest came over with his two wee girls and we headed out to his mothers bar and had a few more deserved drinks whilst trying to keep the girls entertained with a bit of table football with a bottle-top. We left to walk back to town up quite a muddy path and I continued to entertain the girls by falling on my bum. Did I mention I was happy to be in Yaoundé?

I was until a silly, ugly pug of a man wearing a red nipple hat stopped our happy gang and demanded to see our passports. His mouth was flapping French at me and I did my best to keep up, but the long and short of it was he wasn’t happy with neither Meredith’s I.D nor mine. The whole group were francophone who didn’t speak English, Aloys and Ernest are deaf but do speak French, but I didn’t think that this guy had the patience nor the intelligence to communicate through writing, Meredith can say ‘bonjour’ and ‘oui’, neither of which applied to this annoying exchange, and I am no French poet. So after an hour it all got pretty heated until another cop showed up and sent us on our way. It was pretty stressful and Meredith and I managed to really piss each other off. I was no longer happy to be in Yaoundé.

After sorting out our earlier troubles and with new tasks at hand we quickly forgot about yer man on the bribe tip, it was a new day and it was to business. After a delicious breakfast of croissants and coffee with real milk, we set of for our first of many taxis around the city to the ministry of social affairs, it was raining pretty hard and unfortunately we couldn’t see the minister today but Aloys managed to get a booking for tomorrow.

We set off in another taxi and traversed roads that made Piccadilly Circus seem like a gentle left turn. The imaginary break pedal beneath my foot took a hammering.We drove through what i thought was a river but it was just a massive flood in the middle of the city We arrived at the American embassy for Cameroon and I had to stop Meredith singing her national anthem. You know how patriotic these Americans get. After she had called ahead and been told that she could just pop in at any time I assumed it would be a nip and tuck past the old security guards. But no we were denied entry and Meredith would have to wait to get back onto American soil.

Another taxi, another death ride to the Peace Corps headquarters, and again more static from the security guards. They thought we were fluent in French or something and refused to speak a word of English until eventually one wee guy piped up and said in broken English that Meredith being the only American should go in. She was a bit flustered as it was Aloys who wanted to go in and see about getting a Peace Corps volunteer for the deaf school. She explained all this to the secretary and passes were issued and we were granted entry into fort knox. The meeting was very successful and by sheer coincidence a Peace Corps volunteer that Aloys had been in e-mail contact with just happened to be in the building. So hopefully in the future B.S.D will get some assistance from Peace Corps. Then we went for pizza, yes we had pizza, pizza with ham and cheese, from an oven. It was pizza and it was good.

TAXI!! The deaf school please, and can you drive like there is a bomb on board?

We arrived at the first deaf school in Cameroon and we were greeted warmly. We were given a tour and I was very impressed. It was huge and it had a positive atmosphere. So then it was another taxi driver who drove like he had a death wish and a pair of cement boots on for a beer then home for the sleep of a drunken zombie.

The next morning another splendid continental breakfast was presented to us, I cannot describe the quality of grub we received at Auntie Planeys house so I’m not going to. I was chatting to her about the school she built and I asked her if she has any foreign volunteers? She had one Danish guy. Is his name Chris? Yes. It was the very same Chris ho came to Buea with the girls and came to the jungle with us. A crazy coincidence that was hard to believe, we were going for a tour of her two schools today so I would meet him later. The schools were amazing and the children polite and attentive, they were absolutely transfixed by Meredith signing to Aloys and Ernest; it was very sweet, they hadn’t seen anything like it and it certainly did no harm in highlighting the deaf community in Cameroon. I arranged to meet Chris later for a beer but now it was back to business.

TAXI!! Your engine is on fire, can you get us there before it explodes?

We arrived at the Air France building so Meredith could check on her ticket. I was about to buy a cool book on Cameroon but Aloys assured me he was ripping me off (white man tax)

TAXI!! I wish to die in a taxi, will you be my executioner?

We visited Ernest’s sister at her work then we walked to the ministry to meet the minister for the meeting. I stayed out of this one as Aloys, Ernest and Meredith were wearing their Sunday best and I looked like a weary Scot with the complexion of a cooked lobster. I walked through Yaoundé solo like I knew what I was doing and headed to the high court.
Ines had told me there was a specific court that dealt solely in cases of black magic; the court of mysticism if you will. I don’t know about you readers but that sounds pretty fascinating to me. I got there and was delighted to see lawyers wearing the same ridiculous white frilly wigs they wear back home. I inquired in my best franglais about the court but to my disappointment I was told there were no cases today. I texted Ernest but their meeting was taking a long time to start as the whole city closes down for ‘lunch’ from 12 till 3.30PM, the minister included. I strolled along like I knew where I was going and found a supermarket with a bakery that sold fresh pizza, it wasn’t a patch on yesterday but it was pizza, and it was good. I bumbled along craning my neck and taking in the great city whilst munching on my Italian delicacy. It really was a beautiful place. The architecture was quite 70’s with some new structures showing their steely glass faces. The architects weren’t afraid to use vibrant colours in their buildings too, greens, reds yellows; it was very pleasing to the eyeball.

As I sat under a line of trees to shade my epidermis I looked out at the hills and shacks and thought to myself I will definitely return to Yaoundé, but next time I will be armed with the fluent French on my tongue. It’s cool, you should go. I met up with others and the meeting had gone well with some promising news for B.S.D. I think a beer is in order, don’t you?

TAXI!!