Yaoundé, November 10, 2008

Greetings!

A year exactly since I arrived in Cameroon! Time flies, especially when one is having fun!

The last six weeks have been fairly quiet, which is no doubt a good thing, but offering little fodder for amusing incidents. But I’ll do my best to make a humdrum existence sound fascinating.

When I last wrote a piece for this blog, I was in the throes of a fairly intense time, since two Canadian consultants were here to contribute to the activities of the project for which I work. One of them, Cyrille Simard, was here for a week, working on the development of the new Web site for the Centre as well as on the Strategic Plan that we are developing for the Centre’s future. The second consultant, Lorio Roy, spent a total of three weeks here. His basic objective is to set up an administrative system that works better than the one that is now in existence. Given that there isn’t really a system at the moment, this is no mean challenge! Basically, Père Natalino rules.

However, Père Natalino has expressed what we think is a sincere wish to have things work differently. He’s set up a Comité directeur (last May), and his hope is that, ultimately, this committee will be empowered (how I hate that word, but nothing else really fits in this case) to make decisions on the general running of the Centre as well as its orientations. Natalino admits that he himself has a lot to learn, since he is an autocratic by nature and knows that he has to learn to delegate. I think he knows himself quite well and is aware that he will have great difficulty in letting go and accepting that others may make decisions that he’s not keen on. What we don’t know yet, and Lorio is trying to find out, is how much of a free hand le père has been given by the Salesians, the Catholic congregation which set up the Centre, to shape things up. The problem with the Catholic Church and its various congregations is that everything is very hierarchical, the boss always being right, right up to the top (papal infallibility), so we’re not sure yet to what extent we can “modernize” the administration. It’s all quite fun, I must admit, and as part of my role is also to provide “institutional reinforcement”, my work with Lorio has been very rewarding and a great learning experience. Not to mention the fact that he’s great fun to be around! We went from meeting to meeting (either groups, or people on their own), making notes, making plans on how we can start to institute the various changes that we feel are necessary, starting with the way the Comité directeur works (basic things like how to run a meeting, sending the agenda around prior to the meeting, etc.) so that it can ultimately learn how to make decisions. His big plan, and a necessary one, is to get Père Natalino to understand how to set up a budget that makes sense, and, at the same time, ensure that all the heads of department have a hand in setting the budgets for their own departments. It will no doubt take a couple of years to reach this goal.

As if I weren’t busy enough, one of my colleagues, Jean-Philippe, who teaches graphics, asked me if I would be kind enough to translate a little booklet that he had been given, from English to French. I almost refused, I must say, as I really don’t enjoy translating, but finally said that I’d do it, but that it would take a while. It’s not a very big booklet, fortunately, in terms of number of words, but fairly technical and so is proving to be fairly slow work. I suppose it keeps me out of mischief, and gives me something to do in the evenings (I do a bit every day).

Hmm, what else has happened? I led yet another one-day workshop in mid-October, and I’ve sat in a number of classes, observing both students and teachers (this is to give me fodder for the said workshops!). I bought a new mattress – this is exciting news, I tell you! The mattress that came with the bed (you’ll remember that I inherited a houseful of furniture from my predecessor) was pretty well dead; it was a foam mattress that had obviously suffered from spending nearly two years in a closed container, and my back was having a hard time with it. There are three beds, hence three mattresses, and I spent a few weeks trying them all, to no avail. So, the hunt for a mattress began. Ah, the hunt! Shopping in Cameroon is very much a hunt (makes one feel like Man, I tell you, when one succeeds!). There are innumerable places that sell mattresses, that isn’t the problem; the problem is finding a hard mattress! These are fairly expensive items and most Cameroonians, therefore, don’t buy them and it is thus very difficult to find them. Daily forays took place over four or five days (with Njikam) before, at last, we found a little shop, a hole in the wall, really, which had what I was looking for. Then, a couple of hours were needed to bargain the price down to a reasonable amount. It wouldn’t have done to let the man know that, by this point, I was willing to pay any price to get a good mattress! Matters were finally concluded to mutual satisfaction. Having tied the mattress to the roof of the taxi, Njikam took us back to the house by various very bumpy back roads, all to avoid any police checkpoints. It seems that taxis are not supposed to carry things on their roofs (you could have fooled me!), so policemen take great pleasure in stopping taxis doing so and exacting a little “present” from the driver so that the latter can avoid receiving a fine. We made it home without a problem, and I’ve been sleeping extremely well since, thank you very much, with nary a back ache, for which I’m truly grateful!

However, on the health side, I managed to catch a cold. I’m sure you feel very sorry for me; it was quite a major one and it was a good two weeks before it finally gave up and moved on. The other minor health problem was an “attack” of eczema in both my ears. Actually, this has been going on for a few years and, while a bit of a pain, hadn’t been too bothersome, although I’d been scratching my ears regularly for a while (starting to feel a bit canine!). Anyway, the itching became worse and worse here, so I consulted a doctor (yes, I had done so in Canada also!) who prescribed a cream that I’ve been dutifully putting on daily for a few weeks. The itching has disappeared and the eczema nearly so as I write. One of the ears (the half-deaf one, the right) also developed a sort of fungus (visions of mushrooms for supper?) due, the doctor thinks, to the high humidity of the moment and also because I’d had to put cream on to kill the eczema, thus causing the ear not being able to breathe, as it were. Anyway, all is under control as I continue to lather creams on my ears (different potions for each ear) and nothing itches! Again, I’m sure you’re fascinated by all these details…

You may remember that I mentioned, in my last posting, that a number of teachers from our “competition” had attended the workshop that I offered back in July. One of them, Jacques Jude, the Director of studies for the said organization, called PowerBache, whom I’d met in the course of my work with the Ministry (the development of curriculum documents), called me, one Friday, inviting me to a celebration in honour of his birthday, which is how he put it, and made a point of mentioning that his mother, aged 70, was coming up for the occasion.

Well, it’s not as if I lead a hectic social life (one night a month at a reception at the Canadian High Commission hardly counts as a social life!), so of course I said that I’d be delighted to go. I’d been invited for 5 p.m., but figured I should arrive late. Jacques Jude had suggested that I call when I had reached a certain spot, near the University, and he would come and meet us. Simplice, the “other” taxi driver, duly came to pick me up at 5, and it was about 5:30 when we reached the outskirts of the University. Jacques Jude duly came to meet us twenty minutes after we arrived, got in the taxi, with a couple of other guests, and proceeded to guide Simplice through a maze of little dirt alley-ways behind the University. Basically, I gather, this is an area where a lot of students live (surprise!) and there were lots of little boutiques selling all kinds of things, as well as little bars etc. I’m sure it wasn’t a long distance, but it felt like we were burrowing into the depths of Yaoundé, and it was getting dark… So I said to Simplice that I was hiring him for the rest of the evening, because I wanted him to be around when it was time to go. I didn’t fancy having to call and then having to wait half-an-hour before he could show up later on, and also not being sure whether he would be able to find his way again in the dark. Not that one should worry overly about these things, since taxi drivers have phenomenal memories, but one never knows…

Anyway, we arrived at the place where the celebration was taking place, an open hall, covered with a tin roof. People were dancing and I thought, quite surprised, that the party had started quite early… Usually, things don’t get going until 10 or so. Anyway, Jacques Jude bade us welcome and in we walked… people were indeed dancing, but it turned out that we were in a chapel. Those not dancing and singing were standing and clapping, so I did the same. Simplice had locked up the car and was with me – I think he feels that I need to be protected occasionally (in my wild forays!) and assumes that role when he considers it necessary, which is terribly nice of him. The evening carried on – basically, the celebration was a church service, and there were lots of songs of praise, and prayers, and the preacher preached. And yes, it was very much fire and brimstone, with lots of “intriguing” interpretations of a couple of sections of the Bible and lots of invectives against lying, thieving, fornicating, etc. Nothing bad in that, but it was amusing that during the preaching the local iniquitous bars were roaring out their music! The fun bit was that there was instant interpretation – obviously these churches take the bilingual nature of the country seriously and the preacher was a dab hand at keeping his utterances short enough that the interpreters could do their thing (there were two). I have to say they did a very good job of it, with some peculiar English (to be expected, like using “abide” and “dwell” which are words that we don’t use much in the sense of “living” in a place; obviously a biblical influence). There was only one spot where the interpreter made a monumental error, and it was such that I almost burst out laughing, which would have been a no-no. At one point the preacher said something about “il avait le coeur de pierre” and the interpreter rendered it as “Peter’s heart” when the context clearly referred to “heart of stone”. Needless to say, and this was stated a number of times during the preaching, women are the fount of all evil (he went on about women “having” too many men, never a word about a man and his many mistresses!) and, of course, at the end, informed everyone that to be allowed into the kingdom of heaven, one had to abandon all riches. At the end of the service, the preacher asked if anyone had been moved but no one put up their hand… Poor man, he tried so hard!

Other than the preacher, Jacques Jude also made a little speech, all about the choices he had made before his final conversion, and a couple of other people did so as well. Then the meal was served, and it was over, to my relief (the church benches were awfully hard on one’s now less padded seat). I was introduced to the mother, who speaks neither English nor French, which meant that I didn’t spend long with her, was introduced to a couple of other people, including the preacher, and Simplice and I then left. I got back home at about 9, so it wasn’t too long an evening.

So, there you have Jacque Jude’s 30th birthday celebration. On re-reading the above paragraphs, they sound as if I’m mocking the whole thing. I don’t think I am, though… I have no problems with people who have faith and who keep the faith, I guess I just have a hard time with the “begging” nature of that type of sect. You know, the Jerry Falwells of this world who amass huge riches at the expense of the poor. Here too, there is a lot of that, and it is known that many people ruin themselves by donating what they have to these churches and their pastors, who live very well.

Speaking of celebrations, I decided a while back that it was time to have a party at the house, and decided that I should hold a “welcome to Yaoundé” party for Njikam’s new wife. I invited a few people from my entourage who knew Njikam, and duly set about planning this party. I make it sound like it was a big deal, a mere fifteen people, but Judith certainly thought that this was a momentous occasion, and started planning a couple of weeks ahead of time. She was delighted, because it finally meant that I had to buy some extra plates, all matching, as well as a couple of serving platters and a few other bits and pieces that she’d been angling for. Poor woman, I think I give her cause for concern. She devised the menu, told me to stay out of the kitchen (this, I must admit, I found very difficult to do), and spent at least two days before the party cooking up a storm. My role, just like when I moved in here, was to sit in a corner and not do anything, except fork out money when necessary! She dragooned André and his wife into helping clean the house and with the cooking, and I was allowed to buy the drinks and put them in the fridge, which had a hard time keeping things cool (it’s dying, I’m quite sure). Such a flurry of activity had not been seen in this household since I moved in!

The party was held on Saturday, November 8, and during the day, Manga, one of my colleagues from the Centre (a carpenter, he built the mosquito netting frames for my windows) showed up with a sound system. Everyone knows that I don’t have a TV, or a CD player, or a DVD viewer, and Manga, as one of the guests, figured that I couldn’t have a party without music. The young man (he’s 26, I believe) set up the system in the living-room (where else), watched by his solemn 6-year old son, tested it and decided it would do. He left a pile of CDs too, and went off home to change. I’d invited everyone for 7 p.m., assuming that no one would show up until 8, but the first guests arrived “on time” at 7:15, much to their embarrassment (no one wants to be first!). By 8, everyone had arrived, Njikam resplendent in a suit, his very young wife (I don’t think she’s 18 yet) in a superb light green, gauzy outfit, and others in all kinds dress, from very casual to fairly stiff. Everyone sat around making polite conversation – the seating had been set up in African style, that is, all along the walls, so that no one faced anyone (but also no one has his/her back to anyone). Manga, who had elected himself DJ, chose some fairly light music while the meal was served. At the end of the meal, the table was cleared and moved out into the garage, and Manga announced that the dancing was now going to start, and the wedding couple had to start things. So he played a Nana Mouskouri song, and Njikam and Alima dutifully opened “the ball” – or should I say “set the ball rolling”? After the opener, the dancing became quite lively, with André proving to be quite the “rubber” dancer, and his son, Cyrille, aged 5, looks like he’ll follow his father’s dancing footsteps. The evening went well, I think – at least, I enjoyed it a lot, while marvelling at the volume of drink that these people put back. Not all alcoholic, just huge quantities of the stuff, as if it were necessary to empty all the cases of drink that I’d bought! Some extraordinary concoctions too – one chappie drank a mixture of red wine and Coca Cola… not sure if I’ll try that one! By 10:30, Njikam and his wife left, which was the signal for others to leave, and shortly after 11:15, the house was quiet again – a mess, but quiet!

And that, my friends, brings you up to date! Hope all is well with you and that winter hasn’t yet announced itself! Here too it is “cold” in the mornings…

Cheers!

David

Yaoundé, September 24, 2008

Greetings!

I can’t believe that over three months have passed since my last posting! Dear me, how time files, especially as one gets older…

Some of you will have heard some of the news contained in this particular posting, since you have had the good (?) luck of seeing me in August! However, you can skip the parts you know about as you read this…

I left you in mid-June, having finally moved in to the house, having fired my three wayward guards, and deep in preparations for a long workshop that I was to offer at the end of July. I have to say that the planning for the workshop took longer than I had anticipated. The difficulty, from my point of view, was to tailor the various activities that I was planning, as well as the pedagogical content therein, so that a diverse group of teachers would benefit. As you all know, my background is language teaching, and while pedagogical principles are basically the same, the application has to vary. And as I’ve never had to deal with teachers who impart skills in sewing, carpentry and furniture making, metal-work and information technology, this represented, for me, at any rate, quite a challenge. In addition to the teachers at the Centre, a number of consultants from the Ministry of Labour and Professional Training attended, as well as some teachers from another establishment which offers training in IT (yes, one of the competitors!). Forty-two people were supposed to show up, but some didn’t come at all for various reasons, some only came sporadically, and the average daily grouping was 32. The session lasted for four days, quite intensive, I must say, but seems to have gone well in spite of my worries. The last day of the session was July 31, and I left for Canada that evening (more on that later).

The remainder of June was quiet – the household running smoothly under Judith’s capable management and André’s sunny disposition. Frédéric, whom I’d hired on trial for a month, was a fairly decent worker, although being a security guard was quite a come-down for him, as he’d been some kind of manager at a bus depot previously. On making discrete enquiries about him, it turned out that he’d lost his job because he was suspected of having taken money from the till. This was not good news, of course, and coupled with the fact that I felt uncomfortable around him (a bit too smarmy for my liking), I decided not to retain his services, and laid him off at the end of the month, explaining that I just couldn’t afford, at the moment, to hire a fourth person. This “excuse” was quite true, since the move had cost quite a lot (not unexpected) and I was also waiting for infusions of cash from Canada subsequent to my loss of cards, waiting for me in Canada. He was a bit surprised and disappointed, but made no fuss. So, now, I have only Judith, André and Oumarou (the week-end guard) as staff, and it’s working out quite well. André, at his suggestion, works 24 hours a day (well, he does sleep, but that’s ok, Judith is there!) from Monday to Friday, when Oumarou takes over for the weekend. I’m not sure what we’ll do if anyone falls ill, but we’ll see! The atmosphere is happy, and that’s the major consideration, as far as I’m concerned!

Not much happened really during the rest of that month, but I feel I must tell you about a little trip I made out of town (well, into the forested surburbs, really). Roger, whom you’ll remember from previous postings on the blog, called me one day and asked if I’d like to go out for a ride with him, as he had to make a delivery for the director. Of course, I said yes, since it meant seeing a bit more of the place. Roger duly showed up and off we went, leaving the tarmac and following dirt roads for a while, back onto tarmac and then more dirt roads. He duly made his delivery, and, turning to me, said “While we’re here, I’d like to pay a call on some people”. That wasn’t a problem, as far as I was concerned. The crafty so-and-so took me along another dirt road to a fairly dilapidated building, and introduced me to a lady who was running an orphanage for forty-two children, aged 6 months to 17 years. She and her husband had started this a while back, and, of course, were in need of funds. I was taken around the premises, shown what was lacking. Obviously, this was a great attempt (successful, I might add) at pulling at my heart strings and also an attempt (not successful yet) at pulling at my purse strings. Oh, dear! What does one do when everyone thinks that you’re the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund rolled into one? The greatest need is for a septic tank with toilets – at the moment, the children use the river at the bottom of the garden, in which they also wash themselves and from which they use water for cooking. They also use the garden in which they plant various foods. Yuck! The hole for the septic tank has been dug by the children and some volunteer help, and what is needed now are funds to build the thing. By “chance”, there was an estimate available for me to consult. Dear, dear… A mere $900. I said to Roger that I would see what I could do, but that it wasn’t going to happen soon, and, furthermore, that I didn’t have that kind of money to throw around, in spite of what people might think. However, you guessed it, I’m mentally committed to helping the orphanage out for this one thing, but no more after that. If, perchance, any of you would like to contribute, Marion will be delighted to collect funds and send them out to me. No pressure, my friends, just a plea! (marion.macfarlane@gmail.com)

Now, for July…

Poor Njikam! He called me at the beginning of the month, to say that his taxi had been stolen! It seems that he had lent his taxi to a friend who wanted to make some money, and, on this particular Sunday evening, the friend had been held up and the car taken away. One doesn’t argue with a gun! This happened at 7 p.m., which is very early in the night for such an event to happen. Njikam, as you can imagine, was quite distressed, as the taxi, which he had finally paid off (he was his own owner, as it were), was the means by which he was making a fairly decent living. Unfortunately, it was in good condition, which is probably what attracted the thieves in the first place. Of course, police were contacted, etc., but no luck in finding the vehicle. Njikam hoped for two weeks that it would be found, but no such luck. When cars are stolen here (and no doubt in most places), it is taken to bits and sold off, or simply rebranded, as it’s very easy here to get new papers and a new serial number. Anyway, the poor man was in despair, especially as he was to get married at the end of July. After a couple of weeks of hoping, he finally went to work for an owner-operator and now works for someone as opposed to being independent. I think he’s finding it tough, but accepts his destiny. And yes, the car was insured, but… no way are they going to fork over any money. He was told it was his fault for driving a taxi at night and/or lending it to someone else… Poor man!

Njikam’s wedding, at the end of July, went off well. I was invited for the whole shindig, but at the end, only went up for a day, because finances were tight. Njikam comes from Foumban, a town of about 150 000 situated 300 km from Yaoundé, a bit north of Douala. I went by bus, which was quite the experience. The wedding festivities started on the Friday (which I missed), but the official marriage ceremonies (civil and religious) were to take place Saturday afternoon. I’d enquired about the length of time to get to Foumban by bus (5 hours) and decided to take the 7 a.m. bus, first of the day, which would get me to my destination by about noon. Héhé… Njikam, of course, had gone up to Foumban a few days before, and Simplice drove me to the bus station early on the Saturday morning, since it had been recommended that I show up by 6 a.m. to buy my ticket (not possible to buy reserve ahead of time). Ticket bought, I waited for the hour to board the bus, which was waiting there – quite the handsome carriage, very modern. And I waited, and I waited… Simplice, bless his heart, had decided to wait until the bus actually left, and when I commented at 7:15 that they hadn’t started taking on passengers, he explained that this was normal. The bus wouldn’t leave until it had its full complement of passengers, which was 70. I had bought ticket number 11… So we waited and the bus finally left at 8:30! First, we stopped to fill the tank, which took quite a while, and to take on a policeman who got to get a free ride. His presence made life easier on the way, since we were waved through the various checkpoints along the way. I’m told the checkpoints are officially to check for contraband, but in fact are a way for the various policemen to make extra money, since passengers will club together to bribe their way through the checkpoints, rather than lose time while the whole bus is searched, and suitcases opened, etc. Dearie me… Of course, like with all bus trips, there were various stops along the way: toilet stop, stop for a drink, and towards the end of the trip, stops to let passengers off along the way. It was a pleasant run, marred by some rain as we approached destination, since it rains a lot in West. I finally reached Foumban at 2:30, having missed the civil ceremony, alas! I’d called Njikam to warn him that I was late (he was arranging to have me met), and I called as we arrived. To my surprise and embarrassment, Njikam showed up in his rental wedding car, together with new wife and two bridesmaids, and I was hustled into the wedding car and rushed off to the bride’s village for the remainder of the ceremony. No time to change into my wedding togs, an outfit that I’d had made out of the material chosen by the couple as the wedding stuff. I did find time to change at the village, fortunately, since it would have been a change not to wear the rather natty African outfit I’d had made, trousers and shirt down to mid-calves. One must blend in, in spite of being a pale-face!

The village where Alima comes from is about 20 km from Foumban, deep in the forest. Most of the village had turned out for the ceremony, of course. For the first part of the ceremony, the new couple sat in the village hall meeting room, on a leather settee, and greeted everyone who came to wish them well. About thirty minutes later, Alima was escorted to her home, where she changed out of her white finery and got dressed in traditional garb. This is when I had time to change into my own wedding finery (elsewhere, of course!), since it took about an hour for the next part of the ceremony to take place. After I’d changed, Njikam escorting me everywhere, we went back to the village hall, where all the men involved with the wedding were seated in rows along the wall. There was also a row of chairs facing one of the walls. I was shown to my seat, which turned out to be a spot from which I could seen everything, and Njikam sat down in his appointed seat, and we proceeded to wait for the local Imam (Njikam and his wife are Muslim) to arrive. The man, of venerable age, showed up eventually, and the ceremony got going. Basically, it involved the
uncle of the bride saying that her family had found Njikam to be a suitable husband and the family was willing to let Alima marry him (the couple had actually decided this on their own, contrary to the tradition where the parents, in fact, would have chosen a husband for Alima, without her necessarily knowing him beforehand). All this was taking place in the local language, with a few explanations thrown in for my benefit. The bride’s father also spoke, and all of a sudden, Njikam got up and came to me, explaining that his father-in-law wanted to thank me for the honour I was granting them by being present at this ceremony (it helped to enhance Njikam’s reputation). This meant I had to make a little thank you speech, saying that the honour was mine and how delighted I was at the reception that had been given me. A bit embarrassing, actually… Anyway, the ceremony carried on, and we were finally told that Alima was ready.
We went then to the bride’s home, a few paces away, and Njikam, who normally wears open-toed flip-flops, hobbled along in his fine pair of very narrow and very pointed shoes. Some of you may remember the fashion for such shoes in the 60’s? Most uncomfortable, as I remember, but a style very popular here. Alima was sitting on the floor of the living room of the house, totally covered by a superb cloth. Originally, there would have been a number of young ladies hidden under the cloth, and Njikam would have had to find his bride by touching the various hidden heads. Each mistake would have cost him a “fine” to be paid to his bride. None of this in this instance, just Alima coyly hidden away. Her father made a speech, explaining that Njikam had asked for her hand and had provided an acceptable dowry. Njikam then went over to Alima and handed over a symbolic sum of money, which Alima accepted, thus signifying that she accepted the marriage offer, at which point the cloth was lifted, Alima revealed in all her glory, and the ladies of the house bursting into shrill ululations of joy, with the exception of the bride’s mother who, by tradition, has to bewail the loss of her daughter. She did this very effectively! The father duly escorted his daughter out of the house during all this, giving her over to Njikam. This part of the ceremony is important, as it means that Alima now belongs to Njikam and cannot return to the paternal home unless given permission to do so by her new husband.

The party was now to return to Foumban, where Njikam comes from, for the official entry of the bride into her new family. There weren’t enough cars to take everyone back, so people hung around while the two available cars went back and forth. I contributed to the gas fund (fortunately, I’d brought some cash with me, expecting this kind of thing), and Njikam and I were among the last to go. We spent the time in the living room of one of the relatives, and it was about 8 p.m. when the car finally showed up to take us back to town. Njikam was starting to get quite edgy at this point, since it shouldn’t have taken that long (we waited for a good ninety minutes). It turned out that one of the cars had had a minor mechanical problem, quickly fixed, and that the driver didn’t have the money to charge his phone to call in… Ah, well!

We finally made it into Foumban at about 8:45, and Njikam took me to the hotel he’d found for me, not far from where his family lives (they all have plots of land, with or without a house, in the same neighbourhood). The hotel, Hôtel du prunier rouge (The Red Plum-tree Hotel), was quite decent by African standards – a huge room, paint coming off the wall, very clean, clean bedclothes and an ensuite bathroom, with running water (!) and a toilet that worked. There was even a hot-water heater, but that wasn’t operational. Not a surprise! Having deposited my suitcase, we went off to Njikam’s relatives’ houses, making the rounds, greeting everyone, including a 92-year-old uncle, and having a soft drink in one of them. A bit of food was brought out which I can’t describe, other than it was a blob of dark something or other, eaten with a bit of sauce and rice. Alima, meanwhile, was being greeted by the women of her new family (poor thing, what an ordeal), and at one point, we went over the house where the women had repaired. There, Alima was waiting to offer Njikam a drink, symbolically saying that she would look after him properly, and then we went off to the room where the dancing was to take place. There was canned music, which I’d expected. As a bit of an aside, Njikam had planned to hire a band for the occasion and had left money for this with one of his brothers, who spent the money on his own needs! Poor Njikam… not a good month for him, from the financial point of view, especially as the sum involved was high, about $250. Ah, well! All the women were dancing, and I wasn’t sure if men were allowed to do so, since Njikam and I were the only men present, other than the photographer. However, I saw that the photographer was dancing, so I joined in for a little while (it was quite a sedate dance), until Njikam motioned that it was time to leave.

By this time, it was 1 a.m., and I was quite tired, and I asked permission to return to the hotel and sleep, especially since I had to leave early the next day for Yaoundé. Permission was graciously given, and I collapsed into bed quite exhausted and slept very well!

The next day dawned cloudy with sunny periods, and I had a chance to see what surrounded the hotel, which dominates that part of town. Very beautiful scenery, and I plan to return to Foumban for a proper visit at some point. It is a town of historical significance and an artistic centre, so I’m looking forward to that. The 8 o’clock bus left at 10, and I was back in Yaoundé by 6 p.m., having enjoyed myself immensely.

My return was on Sunday, July 27, and I had just enough time to look over my presentation notes for the workshop that was starting the next day. As I said above, I left for Canada on July 31st, and undertook the long trip home – it takes about 30 hours, when one takes into account the various airport stops along the way, waiting for connections.

I got home at midnight on the Friday, August 1, and the next three weeks were a flurry of activity, to put it mildly. There was the arrival of a new grandchild to celebrate (Loïk Baden Alexander, born on July 19), Sonja visiting for a week from Vancouver, and Stella, Marion’s mother, embarking on her last week of a month’s stay in Canada. We were hosting a garden party on the Sunday, so Saturday was spent in preparations for that. The day itself went well, but, alas, the weather didn’t cooperate, and the garden party was held indoors. It was great fun to see friends who had come in for the occasion from all over the province, and a good time was had by all (I hope, anyway!). The rest of that first week sped by, with me undertaking various check-ups, participating in day trips with Stella, etc.

On the Saturday a week after my arrival, Sonja left for Vancouver, and Marion, Stella and I set off for Halifax, from where Stella was leaving for Scotland on the Sunday. We spent the day on Sunday wandering round – we went to Peggy’s Cove, not too far from Halifax, and then back into town to visit the Gardens, where a concert was taking place in brilliant sunshine. It was a good way to spend the last day, not too exhausting before the venerable relative (sorry, Stella!) took flight. As Stella’s flight was due to leave at about 9 p.m., if I remember correctly, Marion had decided to take a room at the Airport Hotel rather than start the drive back, a fortunate decision as it turned out. Check-in opened four hours before the flight, and having done that, the three of us returned to the hotel for the evening meal and a bit of a rest for Stella. We went back to the airport for 8, to find that the flight had been delayed until 10 p.m. (Zoom Airlines, now defunct, alas!). A bit later, we found out that the flight had been delayed until 11 p.m. So, at about 10:15, Stella went through security controls, together with Marion, who had been granted a pass to escort her mother to the plane (Stella having agreed to sit in a wheelchair to facilitate all this!). The ladies went through, and at 11:15, the airline announced that the flight had been delayed until 11 a.m. the next day!! It was just as well that Marion was with her mother, since, normally, we’d have taken off and not found out about this! The airline was busy trying to find rooms for all these displaced passengers, but as we had a room already, we were able to take Stella (and her luggage) back to the Airport hotel, the airline refusing to offer compensation since Stella had “local” accommodation. Just as well that we didn’t have to hang around, as some passengers ended up spending the night in the airport!

The next morning, things went well, and Stella duly took off and, we heard, arrived safely, all meeting arrangements having taken into account the late arrival of the flight. Marion and I then set off for Fredericton, but alas missing a luncheon date that we’d had with friends in Fredericton.

On the Tuesday, Marion and I set off on our peregrinations. Our final destination was Guelph, where my father lives, and we visited a number of people along the way. We spent the first night in Lévis, opposite Québec City, at my cousin’s abode, then drove on to Montreal, visiting aunts and uncles nearby. That evening, Wednesday, we had our evening meal at the Ethiopian restaurant with a number of friends, and on the Thursday, we set off for Toronto, arriving in the early evening. A couple of days spent seeing people, including my brother Ronald (who was leaving for Sierra Leone the next day, to offer a workshop there for three weeks). We ended up in Guelph on the Saturday, and left again on the Monday, taking our time getting home (well, from my point of view!), again visiting friends along the way.

We were back in Fredericton on the Wednesday to be greeted by superb news: Jonathon is off to pursue his Master’s in Shakespearian studies in Stratford-upon-Avon, yes, yes, the original place. The course is a 12-month intensive affair, offered by the University of Birmingham. Jonathon had been accepted into the program a year previously, but didn’t have the funds to finance the enterprise. However, after his hard work at the Superstore (awful hours for not much pay) stocking shelves at night, a few financial transactions here and there, he was able to pursue his dream. To say that we are delighted would be putting it mildly! He leaves on September 22…

The last few days of my trip home went by very quickly being with family and grandchildren, and on the Sunday, I left to return here, getting back late on the Monday evening, and straight to work the next day, as I had another workshop to offer on that Thursday! I do have other things to do, it just happened that way… And so, it goes on! The house was still standing, nothing untoward had happened, and I quickly got back into my sedate style of life here!

On the home front, as I said earlier, things are going well. Judith found a room nearby which she has rented and no longer lives with her niece on the other side of town. She continues to go to Ebolowa and Douala fairly regularly to visit her children and nieces and nephews for whom she is responsible. One of the bedrooms of the house has been turned over to her possessions, which consist, as far as I can see, of seven suitcases full of clothing (she doesn’t have space in the room she’s renting). She suggested at one point that she could just move into the room, but I wasn’t having any of that! Lordy…

André continues to sing and smile; his wife and three children live next door, so they spend a lot of the day with him here, which does add life to the place. The kids are no trouble at all, remarkably well-behaved. Cyrille, the oldest one, will be starting school (a couple of weeks late, but at last), while the other two will remain at home. An amusing thing, though, is that the youngest child, born in May, as you remember, was finally named by his father. Poor child, he’s to be known as Macfarlane David, and nothing else. I feel sorry for the child later on (in André’s tribe, children are given whatever name the father wishes to hand out, without necessarily appending the family name). It’s quite an honour and no doubt a life-long obligation on my part, but what can I say… it happened while I was away! Crafty people..

Work continues to go well – a number of Canadian consultants have been and out, all part of the project, and one of them will be here for another two weeks. This keeps me busy, as well as offering some social life on the occasional evenings, which is all to the good!

We are in the midst of the rainy season, so there is not much sunshine, but the rain tends to fall at night, which is an excellent arrangement, as the roads have time to dry out by morning!

This pretty well brings you up to date – I’m not sure when the next posting will take place, but I’ll try to be more regular (as it were) in that area!

Cheers!

David

Yaoundé, June 19, 2008

Greetings!

It has been a longer silence than planned originally, I must admit, and as a consequence this will be a very long posting. A lot has happened, some amusing and some not so amusing! Of course, things happened at the same time, but I’ve separated the various narratives for ease of reading.

I left you with a promise of amusing stories about the move that finally took place on May 24, much later than I’d hoped, so I’ll start with that. The constant delays in fixing up the little bits in the house were starting to annoy me, to put it mildly, but things finally worked out, and the important repairs were made (including a leak in the water system!). But, alas, no funny stories to tell about the move – it all went smoothly, to my amazement!

Roger had said that they would start moving stuff at 7 a.m., starting with the furniture that had been stored at the Centre. I took that to mean that things wouldn’t get going until at least 8 a.m., so was quite happily taking my time doing the final packing at the apartment (checking cupboards, etc), while waiting for Judith to show up – she wanted to do a final look-around before heading off to the new place to supervise things at that end.

At precisely 8 a.m., two of my colleagues showed up, Raoul, the Teacher Supervisor at the Centre, and Manga, one of its carpenters. They were carrying a long aluminium ladder, and announced that the furniture from the Centre was on its way to the new house, and they were at the apartment to start shifting stuff downstairs. So, that’s what they did! Judith showed up in the middle of this, took a quick look around, and decided that she’d better hurry off to the new place before “these men” put things in the wrong place!

The truck showed up at about 9; Raoul and Manga, helped by Njikam and Simplice (my two taximen), whom I’d hired for the morning to transport delicate stuff, had everything downstairs, except for the huge china cabinet, which had to be levered over the balcony and down to the neighbour’s courtyard, as it was too big to fit down the spiral staircase. Hence the need for the ladder. This operation was more scary than funny, I must confess, but it went very smoothly. The ladder was set up against the wall, coming up to just below the balustrade of the apartment, and a second ladder, borrowed from Dahirou (it was sitting in our courtyard), set up next to it. Roger climbed up one ladder, and a young man called Dieudonné climbed up the second ladder, and a third young man, whose name I don’t know, stood behind the ladders. Then the fun began – I started off by saying I couldn’t afford hospital stays for anyone, so please be careful, which, of course, was the cause of much merriment combined with scornful glances – I mean, they knew what they were doing! So, the cabinet was lifted head over heels over the balustrade, with three chaps holding on to it (fortunately, it has little shelves on the side that afforded a good grip), and it was slowly lowered down (no ropes!) until the two men on the ladders could get hold of it. It was then lowered down slowly, rung my rung, until the chaps on the balcony could no longer hold on to it, at which point the chappie behind the ladder took over. The whole operation took less than 5 minutes, and I’m sure that it was easier to take away than it had been to put it in the apartment in the first place.

So, there we were! Everything out of the apartment, and, as always when involved with moves, I was amazed at the amount of stuff that had accumulated!

At the house, Judith marshalled the forces and I must say she did a good job of that! She had all the men working up a sweat… She had brought along one of her cousins, Frédéric, to help with the unpacking and various things that need to be done when moving in. André was co-opted to go and clean the apartment and duly went off to do so, taken there and back by Njikam. Simplice, meanwhile, was put to work, along with Frédéric, cleaning windows and washing floors. I was surprised that Simplice accepted, I must admit, since I figured he’d want to get back to driving his taxi. In my case, I was firmly told that I was the boss and to go and sit on the little veranda and stay out of the way. I would be called if needed! By the end of the afternoon, the heavy work was done, my helpers left and I spent the rest of the day unpacking suitcases and various boxes.

I must say that I felt a bit lost in the vast expanse of space that was suddenly mine, but it hasn’t taken long to get used to it! It took a couple of days to figure out where to put all the furniture as there is so much of it, but it was finally done. The walk to work is a bit longer, a good ten minutes rather than one, but I’m sure that I’ll survive!

Speaking of work, things have been busy on that front as well. A number of colleagues from Canada “dropped in” to provide training in various areas. It took quite a bit of logistical juggling to arrange the various training sessions, since members at the Centre all wear several hats and were to receive training in two or three areas at the same time. Still, it all worked out, with colleagues duly trained in publicity and marketing, team work and various administrative practices.

It was also time for the annual meeting of the project’s Board of Directors, and there was a fair amount of preparation involved for that. LearnSphere, the organization that hired me for this job, also has a project in Douala, and it had been decided that, accompanied by Père Natalino, the director of the Centre, and by Spyros, chair of Technology Department, I would go to Douala to get to know the people there. It is hoped that we can set up a partnership with the other establishment that offers training in a number of areas, including information technology.

Douala is about 250 km from Yaoundé, and I must admit that I was pleased to be able to get out of the capital and glimpse a bit of the country! I went down to Douala with my Canadian colleagues, in a Toyota 4 X 4 (very comfortable, I must admit!) that we rented from the Canadian High Commission (a service they offer) and we arrived at about 4 p.m. The hotel where we were staying is in the administrative quarter of Douala, and I had time to wander around a bit before it got dark. Very nice area, I must admit, well-kempt. As Douala is the economic capital of the country, there were an awful lot of huge stores and, of course, many businesses of various sorts. Our meeting was held the next morning, and I returned to Yaoundé right after lunch, driven this time by Roger in the Centre’s pick-up, accompanied by Spyros and le père. The trip back took less time than the trip down, as Roger drives like yours truly! The countryside is very lush, but as the road is built through various valleys as it climbs to Yaoundé (700 m above sea level), there were no stupendous views.

On the home front (apartment), things were relatively quiet during the first few weeks of the month. Aurel, one evening, asked for leave to go and visit his sick mother in Ebolowa (120 km away) as he had just found out that she was in a coma. What could one say? So I told him to go ahead and made arrangements with André to stand guard in his place. Aurel tried to wheedle some money out of me prior to his departure, and managed to get 5000 francs (about $12.50), although I’d announced at the beginning of the month that there would be no cash for extra help this month. On his return, a couple of days later, he tried to get me to agree to purchase about $200 worth of medication for his mother, but I said (truthfully) that I didn’t have that kind of money. I was also not very pleased with Aurel at this point, so it was easier to refuse him. Read on…

André, therefore, stood guard at the apartment for the time that Aurel was away. On the Thursday evening, Aurel called me to say that he was back in town, but, poor wee man, all wet because he’d been caught by the rain just as he was returning, and of course was tired, etc, etc., so could he have the night off? I agreed, although I knew that André would be late that evening, since his wife had been taken to hospital that morning – it was only after I’d agreed to give Aurel yet another night off (am I too kind?), that André called to say that his wife, Josiane, had given birth (a bit prematurely) to a big healthy boy, and was Aurel coming in? I congratulated André, and said that I’d just given Aurel permission to stay away, but that André didn’t have to come in, given the circumstances. The apartment was fairly secure, being on the second floor and with numerous doors and locked gates, so I wasn’t particularly worried about being unguarded for one night. So that was that… At about 11 p.m., André showed up after all, to my surprise. He was both delighted at being a new father and annoyed at Aurel, whom he’d called after talking to me, explaining his situation to Aurel and would Aurel be so kind as to go and do his job instead of yet again taking time off. Aurel, of course, (selfish of him) refused. I wasn’t too pleased either – so much for solidarity (about which Aurel talks a lot) among the guards. Of course, if I’d thought of it, I should have been the one to call Aurel to countermand my previous permission, but anyway… Aurel, as a consequence, was not in my good books for a while.

Now, to get to the main happening of the month of May! Good time for a break, my friends!

May 20, a Tuesday, was a national holiday (National Day), and the Monday had also been declared a day off so that “the people” would have a good long weekend. One of my colleagues from Canada (providing training) was still in town, and as her flight wasn’t until the Monday evening, we had agreed to meet over lunch to discuss her week here and what she was going to propose in the area of marketing and publicity. It was also a way for me to find out what I should be doing in that area (i.e. making sure things get done). After lunch, driven as almost always by Njikam, I went by the bank to check on the account balance at the ATM. Yes, there are ATMs here, but one has to visit the bank building to use it.

That done, the wallet in which I keep the bank card and my credit card (should I need it) went back in the pocket where it lives (you can see what’s coming, can’t you?) because Njikam, bless his heart, noticed me putting it in there. I asked him to drop me off at the office because I wanted to check e-mails as it wasn’t a holiday in Canada. I didn’t stay long at the office, perhaps forty-five minutes, and then went back to the apartment, where Dahirou, on duty, was sleeping as usual! And as usual, I took out my identity card and the wallet from my shirt pocket and put them on the desk. (One has to have one’s identity card at all times.) I eventually put the wallet in my briefcase, where it normally lives. The briefcase, you see, never leaves my hands when I go to and from the office, and I lock the office when I leave it, no matter for how short a time.

My evenings are usually occupied with doing a bit of work (the occasional e-mail requiring quiet thinking in order to reply), playing solitaire and, when possible, doing a bit of reading. I say “when possible”, because Aurel does tend to come in and yak away at me, instead of guarding, a fact that I had pointed out to him often, to no avail!

This being a Monday evening, Aurel was in and out a lot, since he hadn’t seen me all weekend, poor man! I can’t remember exactly what he was on about that evening, but it concerned, it seems to me, another money-making project with me as main investor – he does have a lot of ideas in that area, all destined to separate me from my money. He was also hoping, I believe, that I’d “found” some money to help him out with his mother’s medical bills and his own, etc, but I was quite adamant that I had no money for that kind of thing. In desperation, I showed him the pictures of the flood in Fredericton and explained that there was damage to the house back in Canada and that life was going to be tight while we paid for repairs. I couldn’t think of anything else to do to get him off my back, and I must admit I get annoyed at his constant begging, given that he’s very well paid compared to the others. And anyway, Aurel wasn’t in good odour at that point anyway, as related above.

Tuesday, I stayed at home all day, pottering around (making iced tea and other concoctions), reading, napping, playing solitaire etc. I think I did a bit of work, planning my future training sessions. Nothing too taxing as you can see. It was Mustafa’s day on, and washing day, so he was in and out of the apartment in the early morning taking the clothes out, along with the wash tubs, the soap powder, etc, etc. He was also in and out of the apartment in the late afternoon, when everything comes back in. And, as usual, he was in his cups, as far as I could tell. He has a different way of walking when he’s had a couple of drinks (or recovering from the night before, perhaps) and mumbles even more. Aurel, of course, was in that evening, in and out, although not as often as usual.

Wednesday morning rolled around, and off I went to the office and followed the usual routine of turning on the computer, emptying my briefcase of necessary work papers to put in piles of “things to finish off that day”; knowing that I was going to the bank later on, I looked for the wallet in its usual place – chequebook and receipt book present, but no wallet. Annoyed with myself for having left it at home, I went to the morning assembly, a daily occurrence, before moseying back to the apartment to pick up the wallet. Poor Dahirou, on duty on Wednesdays, wondered what I was up to, since I don’t usually come home at 8:15 in the mornings and I’d interrupted his (first) nap! And, my friends, you guessed it, the wallet wasn’t there! I started to panic, I must confess (who wouldn’t?), and looked all over the desk, under every sheet of paper, in the couple of books that were on the desk, under the desk, under chairs, etc. No wallet. So off I went, back to the office to do a more thorough search.I emptied the briefcase, literally turning it inside out, picked up every sheet of paper that had been on the various desks (I have a computer desk, a paper desk and a conference table in my office), looking everywhere I could think of, in case I had taken the wallet out of my pocket while I’d been at the office on the Monday (although it would have gone in the briefcase had I done that). Couldn’t find it! So, still in a panic, I called Njikam and went to the bank to report the loss of my bank card, before anyone could use it. Of course, it’s totally useless unless one knows the PIN, and the PIN was in my head; on the other hand, I’m told that sharp people with special equipment can decode these things, and at that point I wasn’t thinking very straight. This is when Njikam confirmed that he’d seen me put the wallet back in my pocket on the Monday.

At the bank, they blocked the card right away, and said that a new one would be issued right away, but that it would take 10 days for it to arrive, as the cards are manufactured in Ghana. This didn’t represent a huge problem, since I can check the balance at the reception desk and withdraw money in person if necessary. I then went back to the office (it was about 10:30 or so), went through the office and briefcase again; at that point, I remembered the credit card, and tried calling the VISA number in Canada to report its loss. As often happens in these cases, I was put on hold, and there was no way I could wait for an hour or so while paying for an international phone call! So I e-mailed Marion and asked her to call VISA to report the loss. This was done, and a temporary block was put on the card. After doing this, I went back to the apartment to do a thorough search there again, waking Dahirou once more (this didn’t help my temper, I must confess). Judith, just so you know, wasn’t around since I’d given her the long weekend off so that she could go and visit her family in Ebolowa, and I wasn’t expecting her back until that afternoon. I went through the home office again, and then through the whole apartment, looking in every shirt and trousers’ pocket, poked around in the fridge (stranger things have happened!), rummaged through the garbage can (well, I said I looked everywhere!) wearing a plastic bag over my hands as I did that. Still nothing. By then, my panic had subsided, since I knew the cards couldn’t be used, although it meant that I didn’t have access to personal funds, but that was a minor problem. Annoyance and anger were the order of the day at this point. At one o’clock, I decided I might as well go back to work, and left the apartment, telling Dahirou, rather shortly, I must admit, that I was calling a meeting for 6 p.m. (when Aurel arrives) and would he tell Mustafa when the latter dropped in, as he did most days.

Of course by this time, since I hadn’t been able to find the cards during my various searches, I was convinced that they had been stolen. During the course of the day on Tuesday and the two evenings (Monday and Tuesday), it would have been possible for either Aurel and Mustafa to have come in while I was in the bathroom, having a nap (during the day) or having one of my showers (May 20 was quite hot, so I had a mid-day shower as well). Dahirou might have entered the apartment on the Monday afternoon, but as he has never done so before, I didn’t really suspect him. Plus, there wasn’t much time for him to pop in and out after my return home on the Monday and his departure, and he always stays downstairs when he’s on guard (sleeping!).

Back at the office, I went through everything again in the vain hope that I’d missed a spot, but no luck. I then whipped off three dismissal letters and showed them to my colleague Achille, who has a diploma in Human Resources management and knows the various ins and outs of the Labour Law. I asked him if I had the right to go ahead with instant dismissal of the guards, given the circumstances, and he said yes. Roger, whom I’d called of course, came in and said that he thought that I should simply announce that I was missing my wallet, since I had no proof that anyone had taken it and there was still a possibility that I’d find it. By then, of course, my anger had abated somewhat, so I thought that Roger’s suggestion made sense.

At about 2:30, I went back to the house, just to have another look, and Judith, who had returned, helped me look everywhere again. She was aghast, of course.

That evening, then, all four guards were there – I’d dropped in on André during the day, just in case I had dropped the wallet at the house on a previous visit – and I simply announced that the item was missing, that I had last seen it on my desk in the house on the Monday afternoon. I asked for help in finding it, and Roger, in his imitable way, said that if the wallet reappeared then there would be no problems. I also stated that the cards were useless now, but that, unfortunately, the loss of the cards meant that I couldn’t withdraw money from my bank account in Canada, and that as a consequence, I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to pay them. Of course, everyone protested innocence and tried to blame the others, which was really not a very nice show of solidarity.

Once the meeting was over, Roger came up to the apartment, and together, we went through everything again, including boxes that I’d packed in preparation for the move that was coming up. We upturned sofas, looked inside them, felt all along the cushions, etc. Nothing to be found. We sat around for a bit and then Roger sat up straight and asked me to write my name down on a piece of paper and then the names of the four guards a bit further down on the same sheet. He said he had an idea and was off to consult someone. He didn’t say anything more than that. He asked if I had any money for a taxi, and as I had none, I called Simplice to ask if he could come by (Njikam stops working at 6, he told me) and take Roger wherever it was he wanted to go. Simplice, bless his heart, wasn’t far away and duly came by. I told him I couldn’t pay him until later, and explained why, and this didn’t bother him at all, although he too was aghast by this event. By this time, it was about 7:30, I think.

Roger was no sooner away than Aurel was up and full of anger and sorrow at the loss, protesting his innocence, saying that he was an honest man and what a shame the whole world wasn’t like him. Anyway, he didn’t stay long, and went back downstairs, where he promptly lay down under the stairs and fell asleep, as I discovered later! Honestly… At about 8:30 or so, Roger came back and I had to go down to let him in, which is how I found out that Aurel was quite fast asleep! Roger looked quite stern, and asked if I would allow him to go away with Aurel and the other three. So Aurel was awakened (another black mark!), and Roger went off to find Dahirou and Mustafa and to pick up André. All Roger said was that they were off to consult “seers”. I began to wonder what Roger was up to, but as he is an honourable man and has the full confidence of the père, I didn’t say anything. They left, and I went back in, locking the whole place up. By 11:30, they weren’t back, so I went to bed. I heard the bell at about 1 a.m., which was Aurel’s way of letting me know he was back, but I didn’t open the door, just rolled over and went back to sleep.

It was quite late for me when I opened the doors on the Thursday morning at 7, as I usually open them at about 6. Aurel was still around (he usually leaves at 5:30 if not earlier!), waiting to speak to me. He seemed quite upset about the doings of the night before (he didn’t go into details, I got those later), and said that nothing like this had ever happened to him, protested his innocence again, saying that he wouldn’t jeopardize his job that allowed him to put food on the table in front of his children, etc. He added that he hoped that I didn’t think he was the guilty one. I think I remained fairly stony-faced throughout all this, just saying that whatever had taken place the previous evening had been Roger’s idea and that I was simply concerned about recuperating my cards. Aurel went on to say that all these people, the seers, were charlatans, at least the ones in town, and that the only good ones could be found in villages, and that he was sure that it was a set-up by the others, since some of the seers spoke the same dialect as Dahirou and Mustafa, etc. etc. At this point, I had no idea what had happened the night before, but from the way he talked, it was obvious that whatever had been done had pointed to Aurel as the guilty party. I must admit, that’s what I thought too, and here’s why (I’ll resume the narrative in a bit!).

Back in January or February, on one of his forays into the apartment to talk to me, Aurel had noticed the wallet sitting on the desk and, as ever curious about everything (“I need to know everything in order to guard you better”) had asked me what it was. I just said that it contained my bank card that allowed me to withdraw money from the bank account, and didn’t add anymore. Of course, I should just have said that it was none of his business, but I must confess that I didn’t see any harm in telling him in a general way what the card was for. Ah, he said, I’d like to have a card like that, you can just take money out when you need it. I laughed, and said that one had to have money in the bank in order to use the card, left it at that and put the wallet in the briefcase. So, as you see, he knew what the wallet contained and that it allowed this miraculous operation at the bank. Not that this knowledge makes him the guilty one, but it does point to him, in a way.

Back to the narrative…

Anyway, once Aurel had gone, I went off to the office. Roger popped in shortly after the morning assembly, and said that he’d asked Simplice to come back in that morning so that consultations with the seers could continue. Aurel, who had complained to Roger also that it was a set-up, wanted the group to continue consultations, but with seers that he (Aurel) would choose, or at least that none of the group would choose. I found out later that Aurel had called one of his aunts who had recommended a particular lady seer, and I guess that, at Aurel’s insistence, that’s where the group went first (without Roger, who had to work). André told me later that the aunt had sent along her son to show them the way to the first seer, who refused to hear the case (as it were) and she sent them off to another person. It seems that Aurel mentioned Judith during the consultations, and the second seer said that it was a lady that had touched the card. Well… So, Aurel called Roger who came to see me to ask if Judith would join the group for the next few consultations. I said I had no objections if Judith was willing, but that I didn’t see the point, since she hadn’t been around until the Wednesday afternoon. I called Judith to see how she felt about it, and she said why not? So, off they all went again, still with Simplice. I guess they went to see three other seers, and all of them fingered Judith as the guilty one! André told me afterwards that they were all aghast (other than Aurel) since they knew that she couldn’t be the guilty one (André, confirmed by Simplice later on, said that Aurel found a way, each time, of somehow implicating Judith).

At noon, Simplice called to say that he was at the Centre’s gate and could he see me for a bit. When I went out, I found Roger there as well, along with Aurel, who was talking furiously to Roger. The latter dismissed Aurel, and came over to tell me that the day’s seers had all fingered Judith! I was furious, of course, and pointed out that she couldn’t have done it. Roger suggested that Judith might have come back on the Monday, since Aurel claimed to have seen her going into the apartment that afternoon (!!!!!). I pointed out to Roger, quite forcefully, I think, that a) Judith had been taken to the bus station by Njikam on the Friday, accompanied by one of my Canadian colleagues, who had bought her ticket and seen her on the bus; b) I had given Judith the whole long weekend off, until the Wednesday afternoon; c) that Judith had not been in the apartment until Wednesday afternoon, and that Dahirou could confirm that, and since I’d been in and out of the apartment many times on the Wednesday, d) how would Judith know that the card was waiting to be picked up, since to my knowledge she has never seen it, since the card was always with me or in the briefcase and e) this was another example of Aurel’s lying. I added that it was strange that the previous evening’s seers had all fingered Aurel and that Thursday’s had all fingered Judith, leading me to the conclusion that it was difficult to believe in these people. Anyway, we left it at that, I saying that there was nothing more to be done and since the cards were useless in any case, there was no more need to worry. They’d eventually be replaced. So that was that.

Aurel was quite cheerful on Thursday evening, marvelling at the wonderful “charlatans”, which is what they call them, who had pointed out who the real culprit was. This was a change from his story in the morning, where none of the “charlatans” were any good, and the only good ones were to be found “au village”. I didn’t say anything, I must admit, just didn’t react, even to his professions of loyalty. Maybe I should have, but I wanted to see how things would play out later on. And of course, mulling over what was going to be done about this parlous state of things!

The following morning (we are now Friday, the day before the move), I went around to the house at about 7:30 to wait for the plumber whom I had called to set up the outside toilet (at my expense, to be subtracted from the next rent payment) and to have a chat with André, who’d phoned me to say that there was a lot to talk about. It was quite interesting, as André told me what had happened both on Wednesday evening and Thursday morning. He’s the one who explained the seer’s way of working. It seems that, of course, there are incantations of some sort, and a circle is drawn on the ground. Two small brooms are just outside the circle. Then each person asks “Did I take the wallet” and tries to enter the circle. Innocent people manage to get in, but guilty persons are blocked by the brooms that emanate some kind of force against nasty people – or so André said. And you can’t force the brooms to let you through. One wonders how it works! On the Wednesday evening, all the brooms had blocked Aurel, and on the Thursday morning, they had blocked Aurel (once) and Judith twice, although all the seers claimed (on the Thursday) that Judith was somehow involved. The first time that Judith was blocked was at the seer that had been warned of their arrival… (André thinks that the aunt called the first seer to warn her, and thinks that this seer warned the second one; and if you can follow all this, you’re doing well!). André also went into detail about the way in which Aurel had behaved, making sure that he (Aurel) was the one to explain the situation and making sure that Judith’s name was mentioned. It was at this point, I gather, that Aurel mentioned he’d seen Judith entering the apartment on the Monday. Most distasteful… Dahirou, poor wimp, didn’t have the courage to contradict him on this point. Earlier, when I’d mentioned to Roger that Dahirou should be able to confirm that Judith had NOT appeared on the Monday, Roger had said that perhaps Dahirou had left the compound, as he did often…

The plumber duly arrived, and shortly after him, Njikam, since I’d called the latter to show up, knowing that we’d have to go and get bits and pieces to finish the plumbing job. So off we went, leaving André to guard the house. It took us about an hour to get everything that was needed, and when we got back, Judith was there. Not a happy lady, to put it mildly, although, thankfully, she wasn’t mad at me. She was just plain furious at Aurel (and Roger for having the idea of consulting these people). While the plumber was doing his thing, Judith, André and Njikam let off steam about Aurel – I hadn’t realized to what extent the man had had such a negative effect on everyone. Njikam, of course, knows Aurel from the latter’s mother-in-law experience, and told us some of the tall tales that Aurel graced them with; André talked about a few incidents where Aurel had tried to implicate André (like the time he tried to get André to say that Aurel had been around to see André in the middle of the night, one of the times Aurel left early) and so on. By the time the plumber had finished, everyone had calmed down, and I had reached the decision that Aurel would have to go along with the other two – if only because there would be no harmony in the Macfarlane household if he were to remain employed there. In addition, I would never be sure if he were staying around all night (awake or sleeping!) and, to be honest, the accusation against Judith still rankled, not to mention his unwillingness to help André in his time of need.

Once the move was over, on the Saturday, I told Dahirou that he had the week off and asked him to tell Mustafa the same, and said that I hoped to be able to have access to funds to pay him by Friday. Dahirou was quite delighted to have the time off, although he seemed to be a bit puzzled. I explained, as I’d done to Aurel on the Friday evening, that it would be good to take a break from each other and that this was a good time to do it, since I was paying André to be sentinel 24/7 until the end of May.

So, on the Thursday of that week (the last week of May), I prepared my little envelopes, along with testimonials for the three soon-to-be-fired sentinels. I checked with Achille, the human resources expert, to make sure that I was acting correctly, and was reassured that I was acting properly and in accordance with a) the Labour Code and b) the contracts that I had drawn up.

On the Friday morning, I sent a message to Aurel, from whom I hadn’t heard all week, asking him to show up at 1:30, and left a message for Dahirou and Mustafa at the local bar, where they were sure to be at some point. Aurel showed up first, shortly after 1, signed all the receipts etc and then sat down and asked about the schedule at the new house. I must say that I wasn’t looking forward to this particular interview. I told him gently that I was handing him his month’s notice, as per our contract, and that he should spend the month looking for other work (i.e., he would have two months in which to do so, June and July). He looked quite stunned, although I think he may have been expecting the move (he’s not stupid, to say the least, and certainly very foxy and, as recounted before, quite a good actor). Mustafa, reeking of drink (the secretary even said so to him!) was waiting for me as Aurel left, took his money, and wasn’t surprised when I said that I wasn’t renewing his contract. He announced that he was taking his children away and going back up north, shook hands and teetered away. Finally, Dahirou came in, took his money, took the news of the non renewal of his contract quite well (obviously expecting it), and left. The ordeal wasn’t too bad, I guess, although not a pleasant task to accomplish.

I guess that’s the end of that saga, for now… At the time of writing, I’m still waiting for my new bank card, and the new VISA card is waiting for me in Fredericton… and at the house are Judith, André and her cousin Frédéric, whom I’ve decided to try out as a day sentinel. I’ve also hired a chap called Umaru to be a night guard two nights a week, to give André some time off. Umaru is one of my carpenter colleagues who was looking for a way to make a bit of extra cash and has worked as a night guard before.

On a more exciting front, I was able to get out of town again! Woo-hoo! The Centre arranged an end-of-year activity for its staff and although attendance was not compulsory, I thought it would be a good thing to participate, especially as there was a training session (another one!) on team-building, so I decided I should be part of the team. We went to Kribi, a port south of Douala, which boasts, I am told, the best beaches in Cameroon. The Salesian brothers have a sort of summer camp (it’s always summer!) about 10 km out of Kribi and that’s where we stayed. We left on Friday morning, June 6, I sitting in the cab the big truck (yes, it’s the truck used for children and for moving my stuff, you see the kind of thing, open top, rickety), and came back on Sunday. I very much wanted to sit in the back of the truck with the majority of my colleagues, but this was vetoed by all, alas! Probably just as well, as it was very sunny and I would no doubt have got a deeply sunburned during the 5-hour trip (that long because of various stops along the way). Kribi is also about 250 km away from Yaoundé.

Once we arrived at the “camp”, we duly set up. There are two huge dormitories, each for 50 persons, as well as a number of smaller rooms, one of which was given to me. First on the agenda was a visit to the beach for a couple of hours, where a good time was had by all, followed by a meal – yum, spaghetti with a very palatable sauce, which made a change from the eternal fish and chicken served at all other meals I’ve had here. After supper, we went out on the town – honour was salvaged and I was allowed to travel in the back of the truck, woo-hoo! Of course, there was not much to be seen, as all was dark, and we were deposited on the main drag of the town, where we all promptly retired to various bars and sat drinking our beer for a couple of hours before returning to the “camp” for lights out at 10:30.

Saturday dawned clear (in fact, it didn’t rain at all while we were there, a fact for which travellers in the truck were very grateful!), and a bunch of us went down to the beach as soon as we got up. This energetic action was followed by breakfast (a baguette each, with chocolate spread), and then followed by the training session that had been planned – a session on team work. This was going along really well when, all of a sudden, there appeared a vision straight out of my past! A priest, decked out in black surplice and broad-brimmed hat, wandered in, wished us all good morning, and sailed into the back of the office. We all murmured good morning and watched, mesmerized, as dozens more surplice-clad men billowed in, together with one nun. There were 120 of these priests – actually, it turned out that they were seminarians – in for a few days of rest and recreation prior to final exams. What a hoot! It seems that they had booked for the Sunday, but decided to come on the Saturday, without checking first, and were quite surprised to find people in THEIR camp! The meeting broke up, of course, as we tried to figure out what to do, since there wasn’t enough space for all these people. Ultimately, we moved “our women” out of one of the dormitories and into the smaller rooms (moving beds too), and “our men”, including me, moved into the other dormitory. This left the seminarians with about 50 beds for 120 people, but we figured they could work out their own problems! This was all done in highly good humour, of course, although Père Natalino was a bit put out that the team-building effort couldn’t be finished. Such is Africa, he said…

The town of Kribi itself, where we spent Saturday afternoon, isn’t spectacular, but a pleasant spot, nonetheless. All flat, of course, with a couple of markets and some interesting shops. I didn’t get to see the whole place, unfortunately, although I’m told that it’s quite the touristy place. The port is to be expanded, I’m told, so the town could grow quite a lot over the next few years.

***
At the moment, I’m deep in planning for a training session that I am to offer from July 28 to 31, making sure that I apply lessons learned from the training session that I have just finished facilitating (two days last week). The Centre will be very quiet as my colleagues will all be on vacation, and I’ll be left holding the technological fort! What a laugh!

Well, my friends, that brings you up to date. There may be one more posting before July 31, when I leave for a three-week break in Canada, but I am making no promises. As always, I’ll let you know when the posting is posted!

Cheers!

David

Yaoundé, May 6, 2008

Greetings!

You may remember that in my last blog posting, I mentioned that Aurel, the night sentinel, had disappeared at about 1 a.m. on a Saturday morning, much to my horror, dismay and extreme annoyance. It seemed that I now had even more sentinel problems, and, to be honest, was/am getting fed up with them all. During the day on the Saturday, I got a phone call from him apologising for his departure, saying that he’d had a bout of fever come on him, so he thought that he’d better go to a hospital right away, and that he was now under treatment for malaria. I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, to be honest, but what could I do or say?

Aurel showed up for work on the Monday looking most woebegone and obviously suffering (or else it was really fine acting!). He’d had two anti-malarial perfusions, and was due for a third one, which is actually why he came in to work, i.e., to get some money for it, so I gave him 5000 FCFA – my last bill, I told him. I don’t think he believed me, because he showed up on the Tuesday, still looking ill, saying he had to have another perfusion. I told him that I really didn’t have any money on me (true), and sent him back home. He looked rather discouraged, I must admit, but I’m getting tired of the constant begging for help. It’s true that most of it comes out of the following salary (depending on my level of benevolence on pay day), but it does leave me short of ready cash. And I have to say that Cameroonians can smell money from far away – which is why I rarely have any cash on me, so that I don’t get bothered. But when I do carry some cash (one does have to, once in a while), it’s quite amazing how many requests for help there are!

Ironically, Aurel’s doctor (who, I believe is a cousin of his wife), told him to spend less time on his motorbike, as this can exacerbate the possibilities of catching malaria. I’m not quite sure of the logic behind this, since malaria is transmitted by one type of mosquito, and I would have thought that a mosquito splatting into one’s face wouldn’t have time to prick through one’s skin to deposit the virus (or whatever the mosquito deposits). Anyway, because of his illness, Aurel was off for a whole week, checking in every day by phone, giving me all the details of his illness, his voice terribly sad and tired, poor wee man.

Hé, hé! It turned out that Aurel was really a good actor! I’m almost tempted to congratulate him on his performance, except that he would then know how I found out, and that wouldn’t do! On the Saturday of the week that Aurel was ill, I went into town for my weekly shopping trip, driven, as always, by the ever faithful Njikam. Njikam and I have a great old time nattering in the car, although I have to say that he’s very good at noticing the times when I’m not in the mood for chat, and vice versa. That day was fine, though, so we chatted away. I have a tendency to tell him about my sentinels because he’s met them all (and has seen the sots in all their states!) and witnessed a few of the exciting events at the Macfarlane household. He also knows Aurel, because Aurel had asked Njikam to take him to the airport to meet his mother-in-law when she had arrived from Switzerland, where she works as a nurse, a couple of weeks earlier. (Apologies for all the details, but they are necessary in any soap opera!)

Anyway, I mentioned to Njikam that Aurel hadn’t been well since the Friday night, and that he was taking perfusions daily. Really? said Njikam, and started chuckling. “He’s lying”, said he to me. So, of course, I asked him what he meant. Well, it turns out that on the Tuesday (a day when Aurel was “having” the perfusion for which I’d paid), Aurel called on Njikam to take his mother-in-law and him out for a couple of errands (the mother-in-law having taken to Njikam). So that’s what they did – and Njikam said they were out for a good part of the day. Actually, it was most amusing to hear Njikam talk about it, because he finds that a) Aurel talks too much and b) Aurel is far too curious (so nice to have this confirmed), even to the point of wanting to know how much I pay Njikam etc. And, of course, Njikam can’t bear Aurel’s constant boasting about how good he is and all his connections, etc. It seems that even Aurel’s mother-in-law told him to belt up. Héhé, I must meet this lady! I have to admit that he and I had a good chuckle over this story. As I said to Njikam, all Aurel had to do (if he hadn’t really been ill) was to ask for a few days off to look after mother-in-law, or just to have some rest, and he would have got it! Ah well… Not sure what I’m going to do about it, since I don’t want to let on that Njikam spilled the beans, and, of course, I value the latter’s friendship and advice. Anyway, I did have a good laugh.

Of course, Aurel being “ill” meant that I had a small problem with night watches. So, having conferred with Roger on the matter it was decided that André be the sentinel here at the apartment, and that I ask Dahirou to guard at night at the house. I thought that that was an ok solution, although I suppose Dahirou could have stood watch (well, slept-watch) here. Roger said that it was a way for me to check out André, and I thought that that made sense, plus, of course, there is no bar near the new house to which Dahirou could repair. Dahirou, of course, was delighted at being asked to do extra work, and, somehow Mustafa tagged along too, although he won’t be getting any extra pay. I wonder when the latter sees his children… He’s always with Dahirou. André, while pleased at being asked to guard the “boss” did express some concern about the house, but I said that since it was empty, I didn’t have much problem with the arrangements that had been made.

The first night of the arrangement was on a Tuesday, and on the Wednesday I went around to the new house at 7 a.m., because I was to have a meeting with Mr. Olli (the house agent) to discuss a few matters with him (the early hour was at his suggestion). Roger was with me, of course. André, who had returned to the house at 6 a.m., said that he’d had to spend a lot of time cleaning up after Dahirou and Mustafa, as there were an awful lot of cigarette butts all over the place etc. Walking around, I noticed a bit of a whisky sachet and pointed it out. André doesn’t drink (or so I hope)… Well, I didn’t do anything about that either, and decided, with Roger, that we’d wait for further proof – of course, with both Dahirou and Mustafa in the house, it could easily have been said that only Mustafa was drinking (likely story!) and that Dahirou had stayed sober.

Mr. Olli didn’t show up on time (not a surprise), and as both Roger and I had to be at work by 7:30, we left at about 7:20. I had a full slate of things to do, so when Olli called shortly before 8, I missed his call. I called him back shortly after noon (fortunately these gadgety phones, new to me, old hat to most of you! tell you that you have a “missed call”), explaining that I’d been in class all morning (true). Anyway, he suggested that we meet in the evening, at about 6. Not a problem, said I, and promptly informed Roger of this.

That Wednesday was one of my colleagues' birthday, and it had been arranged that we’d go out for a drink after work. So I duly dropped things off at the apartment, called Aurel, to find that he was still “ill” (this was before the Njikam trip, of course), told Dahirou that I’d like him at the other house again that night (ok if Mustafa comes along? I said sure, but I was only paying for one guard). Mustafa was around – which slightly annoyed me, since at the last big meeting, I had stated explicitly there should be no visitors (even other guards) inside the concession. Of course, Mustafa said he was here to see if Aurel was feeling better. Hem… He also took the occasion (Mustafa, of course) to ask if he could have a salary advance. I told him that I had no money at all and I didn’t know when it was going to arrive, so I was very sorry, but I couldn’t oblige. (Apologies for so many details, my friends, but they are all relevant, honest!)

So, off I went to have my one drink – to my colleague’s disgust, I only had a soft drink – I mean, it was a birthday, and one should have at least one beer (and they know that that’s my limit, we’re talking 675 cl bottles here), but I explained that I had a meeting at 6 with the house agent, and I wanted to keep a clear head for the confrontation. So, I duly left at 5:55 and got to the place shortly after 6. On the way there, a couple of the neighbours asked me (separately) if I’d moved in the previous day. I said no, why? Well, they wondered, because there seemed to have been a party going on until quite late! Hmm, I said – sorry about the disturbance, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. Not too pleased, obviously, neither the neighbours nor I, but it did confirm that whisky and beer had been consumed during working hours and that a good time had been had by my two wayward sentinels!

The meeting with Olli went quite well, although he was in his usual bulldozing mode – he attacks first and hopes to intimidate. However, I stood my ground, as did Roger, since the purpose of the meeting was to get Olli to get his act together and finish off the various jobs that still remained to be done in the house prior to my moving in. Olli was most miffed about all the electrical arrangements, saying it had all been being resolved and what did I mean going behind his back to finalize things? I pointed out that I’d been threatened with fines and possible imprisonment because of the illegal line and that seemed to shut him up. Anyway, I won’t go into details here, suffice it to say that he caved in, and said that the house would be all ship-shape within a couple of days. And the outside toilet? Well, the good news is that he’s going to finish it, and at his own expense (quite right too!). He expressed surprise that it wasn’t already done, since he’d already paid the plumber for the work (big lie, no one pays for work ahead of time here!). At the time of writing, I’m still waiting…

Of course, all this took time, and by the time Roger and I got back to the apartment it was after 7. Dahirou had already left at 6, and Mustafa was waiting for us and took off as soon as we arrived (stinking of beer, I might add, which is probably why he rushed off), so I had no time to mention no partying – and as Roger hadn’t been party (sorry) to the information, he didn’t stop Mustafa either. I told Roger about the partying, and we decided to mull things over. Anyway… André finally showed up at about 8, saying that the two had taken their good old time in getting to the house, but that they’d finally got there. Now, for some reason, Dahirou and Mustafa didn’t give André their key to our gate here, even though they had the key to the house gate. This meant, of course, that I had to let André in and, basically, lock him in for the night (I’d had to do that the previous night too). This didn’t seem to bother him; he’s such a cheerful fellow, singing along to the radio while he works, and playing “spoons” with a couple of knives.

At about 9 p.m. on this fine evening the bell went, and of course, I had to go out, since I had the only key to the gate. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and was quite surprised to see Mustafa at the gate, who wanted to see me. So, I trotted downstairs to see what he wanted. He slurred very formally that he wanted to come in and said that Dahirou wasn’t feeling well, but since I had no money to help, he wanted to pick up some traditional medicine that was lying around. Of course, I said yes, and watched him as he picked up a bag of kola nuts (he must think I don’t know what they are, héhé!). He then told André, in quite a severe voice, that he wouldn’t tolerate André having guests in the house, since it wasn’t done, and what was the young lady doing there when they arrived? And off he went, teetering and tottering – it didn’t bode well for the night, I must admit! André looked most woebegone – I knew about the young lady, of course, since he’d asked permission (she’s a neighbour, and just a friend, he says, and I didn’t think it was any of my business). I’d said that I didn’t mind, as long as she didn’t go into the house, and I’m pretty sure that that’s been the case. And as there’s nothing in the house anyway… and the poor man is there all alone day and night… I think André was more worried about what was going to happen at the house – he’s worked very hard at being friends with the neighbours (quite right), and I certainly don’t want trouble with them, even before I move in!

Anyway, I told André not to worry about things, although I wasn’t too happy about the situation either. Phew…

So, the next day at noon, I went around to the house, as André had called me to say that the living room wall-lights had been installed and the plumber sighted. As I arrived at the house, one of the neighbours, a different one, came up to me and said that I should know that my other guards had left the house shortly after 8 and hadn’t returned until well after midnight – she did add, though, that they’d been quiet! I’d told André not to clean up, because I wanted to see the kind of mess they might have made, but he said that they must have cleaned up a bit, because it wasn’t as bad as the previous time, although there were still a lot of ashes about. Anyway, I duly admired the lamps, and went back to the apartment, wondering what to do about my wayward sentinels!

That evening, Mustafa, whose day on duty it was, asked whether Dahirou and he would be expected to go to the house, so I lied and said that Aurel might be arriving later and that I’d get in touch if I needed them. This was just before 6, which is going-home time for the day guards. André showed up at about 7, upset because he’d missed my phone call earlier. The poor man had been having a nap, not having been able to sleep for much of the day because of various workers around the house, and hadn’t heard the phone ring. So, I told him that Aurel wasn’t coming, and that he, André, had a choice: he could stay at the house and rest, or, if he preferred, he could come and guard here (and sleep for a while), and we’d leave the house empty – which, of course, had been done before. He opted for coming here, so I told him to show up by 10 p.m., leaving lights and radio on at the house, as we had done the last time (when Mustafa had been drunk).

What a to-do! All quite amusing, really, but simply confirming that the drunken sots will have to go at the end of their contracts, if not sooner. I’m not sure they see it coming, although they have both been formally warned, in writing, to smarten up. However, that doesn’t seem to have happened yet; it does add spice to life, I must say!!

On to more cheerful topics!

One of my colleagues was married a couple of Saturdays ago, and, along with my other colleagues, I attended both the ceremony at the registry office and the reception in the evening. The invitation for the ceremony at the registry office said to arrive by 10:30, since the ceremony was due to start at 11, and, in true David fashion, I arrived with Njikam’s help at 10:27. Njikam told me that I’d be far too early, and I said that was too bad, but I had supposed that at the registry office being on time would be more important since there must be several marriages to officiate. He just grinned – rightly so, as it turned out that I was the first guest of our party to arrive. I stood around waiting, and the rest started showing up at about 11, easily recognisable since most of them were wearing shirts or dresses (depending on the gender) made of the same material, as was I. (There were a number of groups waiting for various ceremonies, of course.) This is a tradition here, and in many countries of Africa, where to show friendship and solidarity on important occasions, everyone wears a “uniform”, usually chosen by the host or couple (as was the case this time). Unfortunately, the colours chosen (a traditional African motif) didn’t suit me, but too bad! Most of the ladies wore the same material, cut in so many different styles it was quite amazing.

The wedding couple, Raoul (my colleague) and Edwige arrived in a be-flowered Mercedes at 11:15, he bedecked in a white suit (and their son, aged 18 months, dressed in smaller version of the same suit), she in a resplendent silver dress and a coiffure to die for! The ceremony finally got under way at 11:45, and most guests had arrived by 11:30 (being smarter than I had been about timing!).

The little hall was packed, of course, and with only one small window, it was quite hot. The mayor did his thing, which consisted in welcoming everyone present, having the statutes concerning marriage read out, and then providing a commentary on all of them. It was pointed out that marriage was a patriotic duty, thus a good thing, since it legitimised all offspring and made inheritance matters easier (that was one statute); that the man was the “head of the family” and unto him falls the responsibility of ensuring the well-being of the family (another statute); that the wife is to ensure the well-being of the man (!) and the moral upbringing of the family (obviously this statute was designed by someone who believed in St. Paul!); and the last statute basically repeated the first three, with the addition that, in exceptional cases, a wife could elect to live in another dwelling, with the children, if the man hadn’t provided a decent place (although the couple are requested to make choices together). The mayor was quite amusing in his perorations, though, so it made it a bit easier to bear.

At last, the moment came for the exchange of rings. When the mayor said “Now is the time to raise your finger (lever le doigt)”, everyone burst out laughing, because that is the title of a song that is extremely popular at the moment. Fingers were duly raised (by everyone!) and the rings put on. Oops,” said the mayor, “I forgot to ask – which option are you choosing?” I was most puzzled, I must admit, and didn’t hear the answer as it was given fairly quietly. Then the whole room erupted in cheers! I asked the person sitting beside me what the answer had been, and she said “monogamy, he chose monogamy!” Héhé… polygamy is legal, as Njikam explained on the way home later, but it has to be announced on the occasion of the first wedding that that is the option chosen, so that the first wife is fully aware and, one supposes, accepts the situation. And every new wife has to be married at the registry office as well to ensure the legality of each marriage. How amusing… Njikam was quite surprised at my surprise, and quite aghast at the fact that polygamy was not legal in Canada. “Well, that wouldn’t work out well, would it? What do people do when they want a change?”

After the ceremony, there were lots of photos, of course, and there was to be a traditional “ride around town” in which I didn’t participate, not having my own vehicle.

There was a reception at the couple’s home during the afternoon, but I didn’t go to that – because I hadn’t been invited to it – I suspect it was only for close friends and family, which would no doubt add up to a hefty number anyway! That evening, though, was the formal dinner and dance, to which I was invited. As it was just up the road, at the Centre (there’s a huge activity hall there), I was able to walk up. The invitation said “8 p.m. precisely”, but I took that to mean 9 p.m., and duly went up at that time. I wasn’t the first to arrive, but certainly not the last! I was immediately shown to my table, and conversation ensued with those who were there. The happy couple were milling about, greeting guests, he in an outfit made up of the same material that was being worn by an awful lot of the guests, she in a stupendous dress made of the same material, coiffure still in one piece. At 9:30 or so, an announcement was made to apologise for the delay in setting out the meal – the caterer, on his way to the Centre, had been involved in an accident. Nothing serious, but as the boss wasn’t there, the caterers weren’t sure what to do. Finally, at about 10:15, the program started, with the official entry of the happy couple into the hall. They had changed yet again, and he wore a dark suit and she a stupendous gold shimmery thing, very fetching, I must admit. To the tune of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, they very slowly promenaded around the hall, in a very royal manner, preceded by six hostesses and followed by two others. Regal waves and smiles all around. The promenade took a good 15 minutes, all the guests standing and applauding during it all, and then the meal got under way. A very nice buffet, with the usual offerings here (at least, from my experience of two other buffets!), pasta salad, mixture of rice and vegetables (alas, aubergine was included, but I gritted my teeth and forced my gullet open), fish (full of bones but very nice), suspicious looking meat, which I didn’t take (I think it was beef, but wasn’t sure enough to try, and anyway, I’m nearly a vegetarian now!), fried plantains, manioc (didn’t take that!) and various fruits. Wine, beer, pop and juices, as well as water, were flowing freely. It must have cost the couple a fortune, because we were at least 150!

At 11:00 or so, to my surprise, I started to flag, even though I’d had a good, long nap in the afternoon, but didn’t think I could leave yet. At last, the MC announced that the official opening of the dance was about to start. This entailed inviting the happy couple to the middle of the dance floor, preceded by the hostesses – thus another slow walk! – and then standing face-to-face while the MC went on about the beauty of marriage, and how Raoul had told him of how he had first met Edwige (he’d tripped and fallen at her feet, or perhaps she tripped him, said the MC). Finally, the first song was played, Andrea Bocelli’s Con tì partiro. The couple just stood there, embracing, during the opening recitative, and then slowly started revolving when the “refrain” started, at which point the music stopped. The MC then invited 6 other couples to join the wedding couple on the floor – these were the witnesses (two couples), a brother and his wife, the two sets of parents and a good friend and his wife. The MC exhorted these couples to look into each other’s eyes and remember when they first met, and the music started up again – same scenario, embracing during the recitative and slow revolves at the refrain, and then the music stopped again, and the dance floor was formally opened.

According to the program, “the giving of the gifts” was going to take place a good hour after the opening of the dance. It was now midnight, and I figured it would be 1:30 a.m. before that event happened, and I decided I couldn’t take it any more, so I asked one of my colleagues to give my gift in my name, and duly left. I wasn’t the first to go, so I didn’t feel too bad. Roger, who was there, insisted on accompanying me to the gate at the apartment, because he said it just wouldn’t be safe for me to walk home alone – a mere 150 metres, if that! Very nice of him, I must say… Mustafa let me in sullenly, but seemed sober, although I swear I caught a whiff of beer on his breath (even though he tried to stay away from me!), but I couldn’t be sure. At least he wasn’t teetering, or refusing to open the gate!

Sunday morning was quite calm, but although I’d slept in late (until 7:30, late for me!), I still felt quite tired, and so went off to have an early nap (Sunday tradition!) at about 11:30. I woke up shortly after 2 p.m., freezing cold (it must have been about 35 degrees outside!) and wrapped up in the light duvet that serves as a bed cover. I who never use duvets in any country and in any temperature, since they overheat me! Obviously, things were not right, and even I realized that I was running a fever. Not having a thermometer (I do now, however!), I decided that I’d better find a doctor and get checked out. Unfortunately, my neighbour downstairs, who is a doctor, was away for a couple of weeks, so unsure of what to do, I called up my other taximan, Simplice (Njikam doesn’t work on Sundays, although I’m sure he would have made an exception in this case!), and asked him to come around to take me to a clinic.

It was about 2:30, I think, when I called Simplice, and he said he’d be around as soon as he could get his car out of the parking lot where he keeps it. He normally works on Sundays, but had decided to take that particular one off. True to his word, he showed up within the hour, and off we went. In the meantime, I had tried calling the various clinics on the list that had been given to me by the Canadian High Commission, but none of them answered, even the one that said it was open 24/7 – and I let it ring a long time. So, when Simplice arrived, I just asked him to take me to the best clinic in his ken. The first one was shut, but the second one we tried was open, thank goodness, and wasn’t too busy (and was on my list, phew), so I was seen immediately by the nurse on duty. She took one look at me, shoved a thermometer under my armpit, took it out about 30 seconds later (it didn’t take long!), looked at it and said “Immediate intravenous to lower your temperature which is at 40.2 C ” (I think that’s about 102 degrees F). No argument, no going home to pick stuff up, straight to the bed, bared my arm and shoved things in! I don’t know what they use to bring down fevers, but it was pretty effective, because within 30 minutes I was feeling much, much better. I asked if I had to stay overnight and received a pitying, scornful look saying yes, that this was just the first perfusion, and that the doctor would be along in a little while. Meanwhile, they had taken a blood sample before starting the flow, and had sent it along to their little lab for analysis.

I called Roger to inform him of developments, and he said that he’d be around immediately. I think he was a bit miffed that I hadn’t called him first (rather than Simplice), but I told him that I wasn’t necessarily thinking straight, and it was Sunday and not a day to disturb people etc. He said “Stuff and nonsense” or words to that effect. Off Roger and Simplice went, with instructions on where to find the wherewithal to make my stay comfortable, as nothing is provided in these hospitals. Roger returned with Simplice about 90 minutes later, to find me ensconced comfortably in the armchair, perfusions dripping nicely, reading Jeune Afrique quite happily, and feeling fine. Roger was accompanied by Père Natalino, Père Roland (the parish priest) and André, the night guard. “Dearie me!” I said, “I don’t really need the last rites!” They stayed for a bit, Natalino just telling me to be careful and to take my time over things etc. and finally, they left, leaving Simplice and André. André explained that it was customary for patients to have someone from the household with them, and that Roger had decreed that he should be the lucky one, leaving Dahirou and Mustafa in charge of both residences (Aurel still being officially on sick leave at that point), so that was that. Worried that I hadn’t eaten, Simplice had bought a pineapple and proceeded to chop it up there and then and I gobbled what I could of it. The whole city must know of my predilection for pineapple!

Simplice left at about 9 (I’m a bit hazy about times, of course), and at about 10 the doctor on duty strolled in, punched me around a bit, sounding a bit surprised that I had no other symptoms other than the fever, but said that just in case it was malaria, they would start with the quinine right away (the test results wouldn’t be in until the morning). So the nurses fixed me up for the night and kindly brought a mattress for André to lie on. He dutifully set it down on the floor, blocking the door so that no one would dare come in during the night. I slept quite well, considering my position, since I was a bit concerned that I would yank out the needle, as I tend to sleep on my side. However, all was well, and morning came quite quickly.

Simplice showed up at about 8 a.m. with some more pineapple, bless him, and stayed for a short time. Soon after his departure, the nurses came in and changed perfusions, with another dose of quinine, and the doctor on duty came by to confirm that it was indeed a case of malaria, although not a serious one (in spite of the fever), and that it would soon go away, there, there. He congratulated me on my overall fitness (hem, hem, I don’t think I’ve ever had that said before!), expressed amazement that a person my age had so few aches and pains, that my blood pressure was extremely normal (his term, not mine) and off he went, saying that after perfusion number 4, I could, if I wished, go home and finish the treatment there, or stay at the clinic to finish it off (two more perfusions at the clinic, or a course of pills at home). Given the cost of the clinic, I opted for the home treatment, although it would mean time away from work (gasp!).

I was finally allowed out at about 6:30. Of course, in order to get out, one has to pay, and to pay, one has to have cash, because the clinic doesn’t accept cheques, so off we went, Simplice, André, two nurses from the clinic and me. First we had to go to the apartment to pick up the bank card, then off to the bank, I hoping that the cash machine would be working (it was!), then back to the clinic to pay, then to the pharmacy to have the prescription filled out and then home again. Not very restful, I must confess.

The next day, Tuesday, I felt fine, although the fever, as promised by the doctor, returned in a lesser form over the next couple of days. I spent most of the time sleeping and reading, doing a bit of work whenever I felt up to it, and generally having a good time. I went in to the office a couple of times, just to check on e-mails. It took about a week before I felt totally better, and I’m glad to report that all is now fine, thank you very much!

Thursday, May 1, was International Workers’ Day, and a holiday here. I didn’t go downtown with the masses, deciding that I was still convalescing, although many of my colleagues hoped that I would join them in the festivities. At about 2:30, I went over to the Centre, since a meal had been planned for the workers on their return from downtown. I’d been told the meal would be ready for 1:30, so I figured an hour late would be about right – and it was (I’m learning, I’m learning)! The meal was ready, but not everyone was there, so it wasn’t until about 3:15 that lunch was served. I came back home at about 4 for a bit, as I had to go out again shortly after 5 to attend a birthday party for the one-year old son of a colleague. I tell you, it’s all go!

Carlos, my colleague, had planned for a total of about 40 persons to show up for his son’s birthday party, but there must have been closer to 70 by the time all the kiddies were counted, everyone dressed up to the nines. I was the only white chappie there. Good food – although having two meals within three hours of each other was a bit much (same menu all around!), so I didn’t eat much. Maybe my stomach has shrunk at last! It was like kiddie parties everywhere, screaming kids (happy, mind you), all ages and a good time was being had by all. The kids started dancing after a bit, and there were some pretty nifty movers, aged all of nine or so. And some of the babies (the ones that could stand) weren’t doing too badly either! I left shortly after 7, when one of my other colleagues announced that he was walking home and did I want to come along. As I hadn’t brought my torch, and it was dark, I thought it best to leave with him, although I’m sure someone else would have accompanied me later on.

The sentinel saga has continued all through this, by the way, but I will spare you the narration. Just more of the same; all very tiring, and ensuring that at the end of this month, if not sooner, two of them, Mustafa and Dahirou, will no longer be in my employment. I’m not sure what to do about Aurel, since he’s been caught leaving early a couple of times, and has been warned about that. Ho, hum… hard to find good help these days!

Meanwhile André continues to be cheerful, especially as one of his wives is on a visit from the village with children in tow. I’m not sure how long they are staying, but I guess it was time to see papa. I don’t know if I’ve told you much about my lusty young sentinel and his two wives, two children and two to come (one per wife)? Not to mention the girl-friend here… André, who professes to be a good Catholic, told me quite seriously that things were changing a lot in Cameroon, as men couldn’t afford as many wives as they could in the past. He was planning on only having the two, while his father had had five, his paternal grandfather had had sixteen and his maternal grandfather had had thirty-one. Such Catholicism should exist in Canada… I met his wife number one (that’s how he introduced her) and their two children, boys aged 5 and 3. They are all staying at the house for the moment, although the place is totally empty. He told me today that wife number 2 had gone back to her own village, without telling him (he only just found out) and to have their child there. However, André intends to go and pick up his child shortly after the birth (this one is expected in June, I believe), as “the child is mine, and the wife can come back if she wants”. Of course, the Yaoundé girl-friend may be in line to replace wife number 2, or, who knows, become wife number 3.

The move to the new house was supposed to take place this weekend, but had to be postponed as the moving truck wasn’t available. The truck belongs to the Centre (the truck is a bit of a rattle-trap), and was offered for the purpose, but this weekend it had been reserved by the Salesian sisters (who run an orphanage up the hill) so that they could take some kids one some kind of outing. I can just hear the outcry in Canada! A hundred kids stashed in the back of an open truck lurching down the pot-holed highway!

On the work front, the next stage of the curriculum document saga is about to start – the consultant has been hired who is to coordinate the whole thing (with me looking over his shoulder), and we’re in a bit of a rush (the first version of the documents have to be ready by May 15). The first meeting of his team of experts was held this Friday evening, starting at 6 p.m. – on an official day off (both May 1 and 2 were statutory holidays this year)! Fourteen out of eighteen experts showed up, which wasn’t bad, really. We didn’t get out until 9 p.m. Just as well as I wasn’t moving after all! All the documents are to be in final form by the end of June, and I’ll be glad when that activity is over. In the meantime, I’m busy planning next year’s professional development activities for all the teachers at the Centre – it’s quite an ambitious program, with training sessions, classroom observations and individual feedback, but should be quite fun. I’ll be working with a couple of my colleagues so that we can share the load.

Well, that’s the story up to now, my friends! I hope all is well with you and yours. The next instalment probably won’t be posted for two or three weeks, when I shall regale you with (no doubt) hilarious stories about the move!

Cheers!

David