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