Yaoundé, February 26, 2008

Greetings!

Life continues to be good here in Cameroon, in spite of a few upheavals in the last few days – getting all the news about the weather in Canada continues to make me feel very smug, to be honest.

You may have heard about the recent troubles here in Cameroon, over the last weekend, and here’s a brief summary. There are two strands, one economic and one political, which seem to have joined forces.

In Yaoundé, the taxi drivers decided to join all the taxi drivers in the country for a day-long strike to take place on Monday, February 25. Basically, the reason is that the price of gasoline has climbed quite high (it’s now 600 FCFA a litre, about $1.50), and of course, the price of a taxi drive is set by the government and it hasn’t risen for quite a while. In addition to these costs is the fact that the price of basic necessities has increased, since transportation costs have increased for everything. Even the moto-taxis were off the road, and the ones who tried to cash in on the day were stopped. As hundreds of thousands of people depend on this form of public transport, the strike meant that most people were reduced to walking to work or school, and most of them supported the strike, in spite of the inconvenience they suffered. There was not much rampaging, if any.

The story in Douala is very different, although the radio has just announced that calm has returned to the economic capital. I’m not too sure of the details, but a political demonstration had been planned for late Saturday afternoon, to protest against a move to change the Constitution (specifically, the article that limits presidential terms). It seems that the demonstration was banned at the last minute, and although the demonstrators started leaving quietly, the police charged anyway (of course, the official story is the reverse, and who knows which is the correct version?). As often happens, I guess, bands of “wild youths” went on the rampage, and two young bystanders were killed, setting off more riots! Sunday, it seems, was fairly calm, but the rampage started again today, with “wild youths” taking advantage of the lack of taxis to attack a lot of places. It seems that there is a lot of damage to a number of state buildings, as well as a lot of breaking into stores and making off with useful items. We are now waiting for a pronouncement from four government ministers about solutions being offered (you’d think they’d have thought of this before raising the price of gasoline!).

At the time of writing, things seem to have calmed down everywhere, and life is due to go back to normal today.

In the last installment, you’ll remember, I was full of woe with respect to my toe-nails, and I’m sure that you’re all very concerned about them. You’ll be glad to know that less than an hour after I had posted the blog, my brother Neil, who lives in Ghana (practically next door, a mere 2000 km and four countries away) and suffers from the same problem, gave me the solution to my problem: using wire cutters! So life is good and I’m sure that you will all be delighted to know that the separation of over-long toe-nails from top of toes has been successfully accomplished.

Speaking of separations, after much thinking, many ruminations, cogitations, reflections, consultations and exchanges of e-mails, Marion and I have reached a decision that may surprise some of you. Hé, hé, don’t worry – I just couldn’t resist writing that! As you know, Marion had planned to join me here in Yaoundé, but it has turned out that her employers were not willing to give her a leave-of-absence for such a long period – they might have accepted one year, but certainly not two or three. As a consequence, and Marion being much more sensible than I am, we have decided that Marion should keep her job, and we will yo-yo between the two continents for the next little while. This is a sort of insurance – should I not have a job immediately after this one ends, then we can survive and should something happen to me (like being run over by an elephant) while I’m here, Marion won’t end up being husbandless and jobless (I didn’t dare ask her which would be worse!). The added advantages are that we keep the house in Fredericton, and I manage to avoid Canadian winters! We’ll see how this works out and then, perhaps, revisit the decision at a later date. At the moment, it looks like Marion will be able to come out to Yaoundé once a year, and I will be able to get to Canada once a year as well. Who knows, we may manage more than that!

There hasn’t been much of note happening lately. I mean, the sun rises and sets at almost exactly the same time each day, and the weather has been quite steady – warm and dry, although, by Cameroonian standards, the last few mornings have been quite chilly, with a heavy mist, sometimes lasting until early afternoon.

I had to give a sermon to the sentinels the other day, as a certain laxity had set in. People arriving late for work, leaving early, and, quite often, leaving in the middle of the day for quite a long time. So, I called an early morning meeting of the troops and instructed them in my expectations: arrive on time, leave on time, and no leaving without permission during the day. And no drinking alcohol during working hours, which was still happening. As I pointed out (in private, not during the sermon) to the one sentinel who really loves his little bags of Scotch, once he’s had his little nip, he falls asleep, in such a deep sleep that he doesn’t hear people knocking at the gate (ie me). In fact, it was this behaviour that got me riled up enough to set up the sermon meeting. One Sunday morning, I left the apartment to go and buy a loaf of bread at the bakery up the road. The sentinel was sleeping very heavily (and it wasn’t 6 a.m. and they’re not supposed to sleep on the job) that he didn’t hear me come down, unlock the gate and pull the bar open – all very noisy operations! I don’t think he realized that I’d gone, because when I came back, he’d woken up and gone to the snack bar next door to buy his little bag of Scotch. He didn’t see me coming back, so he was caught in the act, so to speak. Anyway, I’m hoping that the little sermon will do some good, very naïve of me, no doubt!. I did tell them that if I caught any of them in flagrante delicto that they would lose their job immediately. And yes, I had a witness for all this. Fortunately, as the apartment is next door to the Centre, I am able taken to coming home at odd hours to see what’s happening!

You’ll no doubt remember the fun I had with opening my bank account back in December? Well, I’ve been having fun with the bank ever since. I’m not sure that they’re having fun with me, however!

The bank that I’m with is known for being very careful in its financial transactions, which is a very good thing, but it does occasionally slow things down a bit. I think I told you that one of my duties is to administer some of the project funds, in particular funds needed to reimburse the Centre where I work for certain expenses. Once I’d opened my bank account, and some funds had been transferred from Canada, I’d paid a few bills. One day, I got a call from the bank asking me to come in and see the Head of Client Services. A bit bemused, I did so. Of course, you have to understand that going to the bank takes a while – first, call the taxi; second, wait for the taxi; third, go through incredible traffic (see blog on driving!) before arriving at the bank; fourth, wait at the bank until the person who called is free. Anyway, I duly showed up, did my mandatory waiting, and was finally invited into the office of the Head of Client Services. He looked at me very seriously, pulled a sheet of paper out from a folder and handed it to me. I was starting to think that I’d inadvertently done something wrong! The sheet of paper had a photocopy of a cheque that I’d made out about ten days earlier. “Did you write that cheque?” I was asked. “Yes,” I confessed. “Why?” “You’re sure that it’s your cheque?” “Absolutely sure. In fact, let me show you the cheque book stub.” Finally, satisfied that I was telling the truth, Mr. Moukoury explained that the reason they were double-checking (pardon the pun) was that the bank in which the cheque had been deposited had a history of doubtful dealings, and my bank wanted to make sure that it was ok to pay out the money. I expressed gratitude at such careful work and went back to the office. It was a surprising sort of visit, but I must admit that it certainly increased my respect for the bank’s administration (even if one is sometimes frustrated by the length of time it takes to get things done!).

This is a good time to take a break, my friends, as the banking story continues…

You have to understand that the local currency is expressed in francs, whose value is very small. For example, one thousand francs is equivalent to about $2.25, so purchases are often in the tens of thousands of francs (and many items are quite expensive). Those of you who have had the misfortune to try to decipher my handwriting also know that it is illegible at best. So, I try very hard to make the cheques that I write out very legible, which entails a lot of time practising on a piece of paper, since the sums have to be written out in full in a fairly constricted space. When one writes a cheque for three million, nine hundred thousand and four hundred and thirty francs, it has to fit in the space provided and not go over the edge. So, having practised, I then write out the amount, put in the amount in figures, identify to whom the cheque is made out and then sign and date it. None of this is very surprising, of course!

A few weeks ago (I have to tell you that I keep my stories for a while before sharing them, otherwise the blogs would be even longer than they are now!), I wrote a cheque out for the Centre. We’ll assume that it was for the sum I mentioned above, three million, nine hundred thousand and four hundred and thirty franc. This was the first cheque I’d written out for the Centre, so I felt very noble and proud at finally being able to embark upon one of my responsibilities. I duly gave the cheque to Laurentine, the secretary-bookkeeper, who verified that the information was correct, and off she went, at some point, to deposit the cheque (the Centre uses the same bank as I do). You need to know that it takes at least two days for a cheque to be processed (even within the same bank) and sometimes three days. So, it was a slightly agitated Laurentine who came to see me in my office a few days later, to say that the cheque had been bounced, with no reason given, and would I go and see what it was all about. To say that I was flabbergasted would be putting it mildly. Not to say embarrassed! Off I went to the bank (same steps as before!), and waited until the clerk who looks after bounced cheques was a) at her desk and b) ready to receive clients. I courteously explained who I was, and expressed surprise at the fact that the cheque had not been accepted. The clerk took the cheque out, looked at it, looked at me, looked at the cheque, and said, very gravely,: “There’s a mistake on the cheque.” I looked at the cheque and didn’t see it right away - and I, a French teacher and proof-reader! Yes, my friends, I’d forgotten the “s” at the end of the word “franc” (so it wasn’t a typo up above, héhé), and for that reason, the cheque bounced. Lordy…

Back I went to the office, made out another cheque, making sure that the “s” was visible and legible (lots of practice!), and gave the cheque to Laurentine, who verified it (she was highly amused at the reason for the bounce), and off she went to deposit the cheque. A few days later, she was back in the office, much more agitated, wig a bit askew (a lot of ladies wear wigs, some of them architectural wonders), to say that the new cheque had been bounced, and would I please go and see what had happened now? The first time, it had been funny, this time it was a bit more serious, especially as the Centre needed the money that kept on being bounced. So, this time, I went with Laurentine to the bank. Same story, in the sense of waiting times, but this time the reason for the bounce was the signature. “Your signature seems to have evolved” said the clerk, with nary a smile, “and it doesn’t look like the signature that we have on file” (scanned). I looked at the signature and said that yes, it was mine, and yes, it was probably slightly different from the one on file. I also pointed out that I had warned the bank that my signature varied (unheard of, I guess), depending on the pen I was using, the position I was in when writing the cheque and perhaps my mood. However, the clerk was not going to be amused, as this was serious business! Slightly impatient, I wrote out a third cheque, there and then, with the clerk as a witness, and gave it to Laurentine, who was standing next to me. The clerk looked at the cheque carefully, looked at me sorrowfully (at last, an expression on her face), shook her head slowly and said that the signature wasn’t quite right (one line extra, difficult to explain the difference).

Well, what to do? I thought, well, this can’t go on, so I suggested to Laurentine that I take out the money in cash, and then she could deposit it right away. This seemed to be a sensible solution to the predicament, although probably not to the liking of accountants the world over. Ah well… so I wrote a cheque out to myself (there are no withdrawal slips here, one has to use cheques), in front of the same clerk, who again refused the cheque, because the signature was different again. This was getting serious, to put it mildly! So, I went to see the Head of Client Services, Mr. Moukoury, and explained what was happening. Much cogitation and consultations with various bodies, shaking of heads, rolling of eyes and other dramatic elements. Finally, it was decided that I should fill out new signature forms. I pointed out that this did not guarantee that my signature would remain stable. I also pointed out that this was the first time I’d had this trouble in any country that I’d been in. Anyway, a final solution was found. First, I sign the cheque, then, under my signature, I write my name. I pointed out that my writing varied a lot also, but that I always made my “f” the same way. So, on the card, it is noted that the “f” is the only stable element of my signature, that if there are any questions, to refer them to Mr. Moukoury or to phone me. Once all this was done, I wrote out another cheque, which was then initialed by at least three people, so that I could withdraw the money owed to the Centre, so that I could give it to Laurentine.

The largest bill is the ten-thousand franc note, so after a few minutes (cheque having magically been accepted by the unsmiling clerk), I was handed a huge pile of bills, a large number of ten thousand franc notes, a large number of five-thousand franc notes, and some two-thousand franc notes. Actually getting the money also took time, since the clerk had to count it all, and then I had to count it all. Then I staggered over to Laurentine with this huge whack of notes, and gave them to her. She then filled out her deposit slip, counted the notes, and went to the teller, who had just given me the notes, who then proceeded to count them all again and deposit the money in the Centre’s account.

The whole operation, from beginning to end, took five hours!

You may be sure that I’m very careful about how I fill out the cheques now, and, fortunately, there have been no more bounced cheques! I must say, though, that it was quite pleasant going around with more than three million in one’s hands!

On that note (groan!), I shall leave you for now! Hope all is going well for you all!

Cheers!

David