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
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
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
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
Monday, April 14, 2008
Yaoundé, April 14, 2008
Greetings!
It’s hard to believe that more than a month has passed since my last posting. It has been busy, both on the personal front and on the work front, so there hasn’t been much time to sit on the balcony or to write.
When I last wrote, I had rented a house down the road, and an outside toilet had been (almost) completely built for the sentinels. The toilet is still in the same state, you’ll be glad to know, that is, all is there except the bowl and the small sink. I think the agent hopes that I’ll cave in and buy them, but that would be admitting ownership and no doubt being held liable for the cost of the total. So there it sits. The dear man is unfindable, in spite of repeated phone calls (unanswered) and e-mails (equally unanswered), although he has been sighted by André, the sentinel at the new house. I’m waiting to see what’s going to transpire on that front.
On the electrical front, there was quite a lot to do. I think I promised an amusing account on that score, and I shall not disappoint, even if sometimes events were a tad frustrating.
One Saturday, I was inspecting the house and outside toilet, together with Roger, my helpful friend from the Centre, and André, the ever-smiling sentinel at the house, the bell at the gate rang, and it turned out to be the electrical inspector cum metre reader. He had come to deliver a bill and asked me who I was! It turns out that a) the previous lessee (or the owner) had left without paying bills and that b) to turn on the electricity, this bill had to be paid. I pointed out, gently, that it wasn’t my responsibility to pay off this bill, and the electricity man agreed that it was the house agent’s business to clear things up. The latter (Mr. Olli), of course, had told me that there was no problem, and that all we had to do was to go to the electricity board, the Société nationale de l’électricité (SONEL from now on) and sign a few papers to have the electricity contract switched to my name.
André’s radio was blaring, and from the gate, it was clearly evident that it was plugged into a socket, indicating that we were using electricity. The metre man, Ben by name, expressed surprise, since the electricity had been cut off at least twice since November. So he went over to the metre to see what was going on… Imagine our surprise to find that the metre had been by-passed, and that power was being stolen directly from the grid, with no protection whatsoever. Lordy, lordy! Well, said Ben, this is not only illegal but dangerous. I totally agreed with him, and asked what he suggested. So, it was decided that the SONEL people would come around on Monday morning and cut off the wires, and thus the electricity. Then I could set up my own account with the SONEL.
That evening, Roger and I called Mr. Olli. I asked Roger to do most of the talking, figuring that messages might be clearer if passed between two Cameroonians. Roger had a hard time getting through to Mr. Olli’s head – the latter just blusters on and on and tries to bulldoze his way out of things. Mr. Olli insisted that all was well and that I shouldn’t meddle with things that didn’t concern me. I pointed out that they did concern me, since the lease clearly stated that I was responsible for all electrical bills from the time of the signing of the lease, not before, and I needed bills in my name. Plus, I said to Mr. Olli, at the moment the electricity was being stolen off the grid, and I had no desire to be fined or imprisoned for stealing from the state, and that I had given orders for the electricity to be cut off on the Monday. Dead silence from the other end…
On the Monday, Aurel (one of the night guards, the talkative one), was delegated by Roger to go to the SONEL to see what should be done once the power had been cut off by Mr. Ben. He discovered that I would need to fill out papers, pay for the installation of a metre and all its accoutrements and that a deposit would be required. I duly took out the money that was required, and he went back to make the payments (I’d also filled out the forms) and start the process. A few days later, the new metre was set up, the illegal electric wire taken down, and the legal system put in place. Phew…
No, no, the saga isn’t finished yet! The new metre was set up during the morning of a Friday, and at noon, André came around to the apartment, looking quite woebegone, saying that the power had just been cut off! He said that he’d had power for about an hour, and then a team of electricity workers had shown up with a work order to turn it off. As I had all the papers with me, he couldn’t prove that the power had just been turned on legally, and the team said they were just doing their job and showed him the work order that they had. Poor man! I sent him back to the house, saying that Aurel would be showing up shortly. Once Aurel showed up, the team came back with their boss, Mr. Ben. Mr. Ben, if you remember, had told me that he was going to make sure that the illegal power was cut off, and that was the reason for the work order. It’s just that he hadn’t got around to it on the Monday or Tuesday, as originally promised. So Aurel and Ben went back to the SONEL to see Aurel’s contact there (who happens to be the district manager, fortunately) to see what had happened. The district manager was quite surprised and apologetic, since he had forgotten that he had signed that work order before signing the order to re-install the electricity. Héhé… all was well, however, and he ordered the team back to re-install the electricity, so the power was back on by 3 p.m. I’m sure there’s a TV series to be made of all this!
I suspect that I’ve made a few people in the neighbourhood unhappy, since I’m quite sure that the illegal line was feeding quite a few households… Ah well, I’ll have to live with it! No way am I paying for everyone’s electricity – it’s expensive enough as it is!
Of course, the speed at which all this was accomplished could not have been attained without the help of baksheesh left, right and centre (plus a bottle of whisky for the district manager)! I suppose I shouldn’t be encouraging that type of behaviour, but as Aurel said, if you want to get things done, you need to follow local practices, or else end up waiting for a long time (i.e., months or years) to get your legal connection. Poor Cameroonians… Fortunately, it was Aurel doing the baksheeshing, or the price would have been higher!
Meanwhile, on the apartment front, things have been happening also. I believe that I’ve mentioned the fact that Dahirou, the older day guard, has quite the liking for little sachets of whisky. The younger guard, Mustafa, does also, and this had led to quite a few amusing, if frustrating, moments.
Relations between the various guards seemed to have deteriorated dramatically over a few weeks. I suspect that Aurel’s self-importance together with the fact that he’d been haring back and forth from the apartment to the SONEL to the house hadn’t helped (he does strut with self-importance), plus, of course, the ever present jealousy that seems to be a fact of life in Cameroon. I’m sure Mustafa and Dahirou are wondering why I didn’t ask them to do all haring around. The answer is quite simple, really: Mustafa, nice as he is, is such a wimp and Dahirou is in his cups most of the time (or snoring it off) that neither of them could accomplish much.
Anyway, the latest ruckus started on the Friday evening of the day when the electricity was finally installed, when Dahirou and Aurel had words. As stated up above, Aurel had spent most of the week fixing things up with the SONEL during the day, and still guarding at night, and by Friday, he was pretty bushed, to put it mildly. So, on the Friday afternoon, when he came to confirm that the power was on, at about 3 p.m., I told him to take a few hours to rest and that he didn’t need to report for work until 9 p.m. (he usually starts at 6 p.m.). At 6, I told Dahirou that he could go home, because Aurel would be late, as I’d given him permission to be so. Dahirou said that he’d wait anyway, and I said that it was up to him, but that he was free to go (no way am I getting into paying overtime!). Dahirou finally gave up and went home at 8. At about 8:45, Aurel showed up, in time to start his shift; he put his motorbike in the parking area, locked all the gates behind him, and was about to come up to get his bottle of filtered water, when there was a knock at the gate, and it was Dahirou, almost banging. I happened to be on the balcony and saw Aurel ask who it was (he always does) and then open the gate to say hi to Dahirou and ask what he wanted. I didn’t hear what Dahirou said, but Aurel exploded and said that he had been given permission to arrive late, and what business was it of Dahirou’s to tell him off. Hard words then seem to have been exchanged, with Dahirou wanting to come in to pick up a couple of logs he’d collected during the day (to cook on), so Aurel got them for him, but threw them over the wall! It was from my vantage point fairly obvious that Dahirou had been drinking between 8:00 and 8:45, just from the way he was walking. Aurel was furious (of course, I’m sure he’s blameless in all this, hem, hem), and phoned Roger to tell him about this (they sort of report to Roger, in the sense that he hired them all, and he’s asked to be kept informed of all that happens; a very complicated management system to be sure!). Aurel wanted Roger to go and tell Dahirou off right away, but Roger said that he’d see Dahirou the next day. Roger then spoke to me, and I confirmed just what I’d been able to hear, and of course that I’d given Aurel time to rest before coming in to work. Roger and I agreed to discuss this the next day, or Sunday, when cooler heads might prevail.
Anyway, Aurel fumed around for most of the evening (he really doesn’t like Dahirou!), pointing out that his qualifications and experience and connections were better than anyone else’s around here and rant, rant, rant! I suspect that it’s that kind of talk that gets people’s backs up (doesn’t it always?).
Roger duly came round on the Saturday, and said that we should hold another meeting of the troops to clear the air (you’ll remember that there was one in early February). He doesn’t find it normal that adults should act like children, and of course it looks bad on him, as it were. As zebigboss, I’d have to be there too, and say a few words. Lordy…
Saturday was a normal day, in that Dahirou was at work (and slept a lot!), as was Sunday, and Mustafa came on for night duty, as usual (he works Saturday and Sunday nights, Tuesdays and Thursdays during the day). On the Sunday evening, Mustafa came up at about 7 and asked me if I’d seen the bow and arrows that are usually kept downstairs for the sentinels. No, I replied, the last time I’d seen them had been the night before. He said that they had disappeared. The mystery was (somewhat) cleared up a little bit later, when Dahirou came round to say hello to Mustafa; Dahirou had taken the weapons home, claiming they were his. After Dahirou had left, Mustafa asked me if this was the case. I replied saying that I had assumed that they were mine, in that I had a bill showing that I had bought a bow and arrows back in December, and that anything that I’d bought was for use by all the guards. Mustafa didn’t say anything, just looked quizzical and off he went.
If this is starting to sound like a soap opera, you’re not wrong….
So, Monday night rolled around, and the troops were gathered by 6 p.m., including André and Roger. We congregated downstairs, with me sitting on the steps, and began. I started off first, saying that I’d noticed that there seemed to be some discord at the moment, and I was hoping that things could get resolved, since I want a team to be working for me, not a bunch of individuals (management 101!). I also said that I’d noticed that alcohol was still being consumed, and that this was a final warning – not only were they not to drink on the job, but not to drink during working hours (in case it was interpreted that it was ok to leave and drink outside on the street!). I also added that I expected them to show up for work sober, since they couldn’t be very good sentinels if a bit woozy. All very diplomatic etc.
Then the fireworks started! Roger was sort moderating the meeting, so he asked if anyone had anything to say, and Aurel started up right away – quite the harangue about Dahirou, the fact that he had dared to insult Aurel on the previous Friday, that he had no right to question Aurel’s arrival time, etc. etc, not to mention that he (Aurel) had lots of experience, etc etc. Basically, Aurel was looking for an apology for the insults (which I felt he deserved, I must admit). Of course, Aurel claimed that Dahirou was drunk at the gate, and that on a number of occasions he’d had to bang hard on the gate to be let in, especially during this week when he’d had to consult me about the electricity, etc. Aurel does go on a lot… and doesn’t help his case!
Roger waited until he’d finished, and then asked Dahirou for his side of the story. Dahirou claimed that he had just come around to pick up the bits of wood that he had forgotten, and had just asked out of curiosity why Aurel was late, and then Aurel lit into him. Of course, I couldn’t corroborate that, since I hadn’t heard what Dahirou had said outside the gate… Then Dahirou went on and on about how from the beginning things hadn’t gone well; first there was the story of the radio – I’d given Aurel money to buy a small radio for the sentinels, and within a few days, it had been broken, and couldn’t be fixed (or so I was told). So I bought another one, but the original one disappeared, probably to Aurel’s home, and Dahirou thought that this was not on. Aurel fumed at this, and interrupted (this is a no-no, since the person who has the floor is allowed to complete his piece before someone else starts talking), saying that the radio had been broken because Dahirou had fiddled with it in the first place, instead of just using it normally, and besides what about all the cigarette butts that were always being littered about and that he had to clean up when he came on duty in the evening, not to mention the fact that the cardboard he’d brought, from his own home, to put on the ground so that all the sentinels could use it to lie on when taking a brief rest, and how come Dahirou was forever taking bits of the cardboard on which he “did his doings” and then threw it over the wall, which meant that the cardboard had to be replaced, and the fact that his things are always being gone through and there are never any matches left no matter what size box is there, and on and on and on…. Lordy… He finally calmed down after Roger yelled at him and told him that Dahirou had the floor. So, of course, Dahirou lit in, saying that all these things were lies etc etc, and he had his own litany of woes, the major one being that Aurel was always late by a few minutes even since he’d got his own motorbike.
Meanwhile, I drank my iced tea, wishing it was whisky (there’s an unopened bottle of Lagavulin in the cupboard, but maybe not unopened for much longer!). Roger then asked what had happened to the bow and arrows (Mustafa had gone to tell him of this event), and Dahirou said that as they were his, he had decided to take them home. At this point, I intervened, and said (unknowingly adding fuel to this boiling mix) that I had paid for these weapons, and that I had a bill to prove it, and that I’d give Aurel the money for this purchase at the time that he had presented me with his list of necessities (I think the list is in one of the previous blogs). Well – what a ruckus! Aurel said that when he had gone looking for a bow and arrows, he had been unable to find any, and had come back to say so, while Dahirou was around. Dahirou, according to Aurel, said that he had a set, so why didn’t he sell them to Aurel for 5000 francs (about $12.50), so that’s what happened. Dahirou retorted that that was not what had happened, that he’d only agreed to lend the bow and arrows until such time as new ones could be bought, and that he’d not received any money for them. Woo-hoo… what a fight of he saids you saids etc. Somewhere, of course, there was shifty work – not that a great sum was involved, but…
All this time, Mustafa and André were just spectating, Mustafa unsure what to say, since he’s related to Dahirou, but wanted the bow and arrows back, and André, as the newcomer, just standing there with a huge smile on his face.
Roger finally took command of all this, and started his speech and giving out orders of what should now be happening. First, he summarized what we had all heard, and pointed out that we’d never know the full truth, neither about the bow and arrows, neither about the quarrel on the Friday night, but pointed out that there seemed to have been funny business originally with the bow and arrows. He added that both he and I have more to do with our time than worry about childish behaviour (“I’m ashamed of you”), there are lots of other people looking for work.
Roger then warned the drinkers (Mustafa and Dahirou) that they’d better cease and desist, as this constituted their second formal warning. Mustafa mewed at this point that he’d never been derelict in his duties, at which Roger sneered and said that Mustafa had been quite tipsy the last time that he’d been around, about ten days before, and that M. David had noticed too. Mustafa looked at me at this point, probably for support, but I had to agree with Roger that Mustafa had definitely been under the influence and that I’d even had to go down and let a guest in at the gate because Mustafa had refused to open it. Anyway, a round of dismissals was threatened again.
The meeting finally came to an end, and Dahirou, Mustafa and André all went off, with Aurel staying behind, since he was on duty..
By this time, it was about 8:30, and Roger went off home, and I sat down to finish some work. Well, it didn’t take more than 10 minutes for Aurel to come in, having knocked and then just wandering in as is his habit, to say how angry he was at a) Dahirou and b) at the Roger had mismanaged the meeting. Of course, Aurel didn’t get his way at the meeting, so I assume that’s why he was annoyed. He was most hurt at being accused of stealing (the bow and arrows and false invoice), since he thought he was helping Dahirou out (the latter never having any money) and he knew, since he’s worked with other Canadian projects, that I had to have a receipt for every expense. Anyway, he ranted on and on, I just made hum and hah noises, and looked pointedly at my computer, but nothing was going to get rid of him, so I allowed the steam to flow. He finally left me alone.
Lo and behold, ten minutes later, the bell rang, so I went out to the balcony, to see Dahirou’s smiling face looking up at me from the street, to say that Mustafa would be along with the bow and arrows in a few minutes. Off he went. Off I went, back to my papers. Ten minutes later, the bell went again, and it was Mustafa, with bow and arrows, but he refused to give them to Aurel, and insisted on coming up to the balcony, made a little speech saying that these were the bow and arrows brought back for the time being until replacements were bought, handed them to me solemnly and off he went.
At this point, I must confess I’d had enough, and told Aurel that I really had to finish this work before I went to bed, and shut the door behind him.
The next day, I had to face Mustafa, who came to work promptly at 7 a.m. (instead of around 7:15), and he too told me what he thought – he too hadn’t liked the way Roger had run the meeting. Mustafa said that Dahirou claimed that he hadn’t received any money for the bow and arrows but that they would stay here until replacements were found. Plus, he added, he (Mustafa) didn’t want to be involved in this type of disagreement, because he always took his duties seriously and showed up for work even if he’d had a few too many (!!!). I pointed out gently that I appreciated this, but that if he were tipsy, he couldn’t be an effective sentinel – and repeated that I’d had to let someone in the previous week because he wouldn’t open the gate. Of course, he swore it wouldn’t happen again, and I said I hoped not, because his contract wouldn’t be renewed if it did happen again (he has a 6-month contract). And off he went…
And so, I thought, things would remain calm… Alas, it was not to be! If you need a pause from reading, this is a good place to take a break. Maybe have a glass of whisky?
As luck would have it, on the Friday following the meeting I had one of my sleepless nights – thankfully, they are very few here – and I woke up at about 2:45. At 3, I got up, since it was obvious that I wasn’t going to sleep again unless I had a cup of mint tea or something, and while waiting for the water to boil, I thought I’d ask Aurel if he’d like some water or a cup of coffee, or something. So, I opened up the doors (this is like unlocking Fort Knox), and called down to him. No answer. A bit concerned, I must admit, I went downstairs to see if he was ok or just sleeping (which no doubt happens a lot, although Aurel will never admit to sleeping on the job!). Imagine my surprise to find that he wasn’t there and neither was his motorbike. This type of absence had happened at least once before, so I wasn’t too pleased, obviously! So much for the paragon of sentinels! And another warning coming up…
Saturday was thus spent in a bit of a haze, of course, although I had a couple of naps to recoup. I’d gone back to bed at about 5, and was awakened by the doorbell announcing Dahirou’s arrival shortly before 7. He doesn’t usually ring the bell, but he announced with a big grin that Mustafa was there also. Being rather dozy, I didn’t register (it meant that Mustafa had come for money), and just smiled, shut the door and went back in! Anyway, when I went out shopping (the highlight of the week) with Njikam, the taximan, Mustafa was nowhere to be seen, and Dahirou was snoring it off as usual – he didn’t hear me clang open the bar, unlock the door and lock it again behind me. I supposed that he’d been drinking all night, ho hum…
Dahirou was awake when I came back a couple of hours later and the rest of the day passed quietly. At about 3:30 or so, the bell rang, and it was Mustafa. He had asked me, on the Thursday, if I could give him an advance on his salary (they don’t get paid until the end of the month), since he and his family didn’t have anything to eat, and at the time, I told him I couldn’t because I didn’t have any money on me (quite true) and that I wouldn’t have any until Saturday. Hence his visit… So, I gave him all of 5000 francs, which is all I could afford, and off he went. Dahirou, who never misses a chance to get an advance, told me he had to attend a funeral and could he have an advance too, so he got his 5000 francs also. Dahirou then went rushing off (to pay something, he said, truthfully, héhé) and no doubt bought himself a couple of little bags of whisky. Anyway, he came back, and left at 6, at which time Mustafa was to come on duty for the night.
As it happened, I was on the balcony and saw Mustafa carefully approaching the apartment, from the direction of the bar, of course (I mean, it’s in the same building). He was watching his steps carefully, and talking to himself and pointing at something. I’ve seen him like this before and know that it is an indication that he is tipsy. Well…. I wasn’t only disappointed, , I was bloody mad! Apart from the fact that he’d been warned again, it meant that the 5000 francs I’d given him a couple of hours earlier, theoretically to feed his family, had gone to booze.
You’ll remember that Mustafa says he can work even if a bit tipsy. So I watched him fumble at the gate, stumble up the stairs to get the bottle of water needed to make coffee, swaying as he made the request, admired him while he looked at the box in which the coffee accoutrements live (kettle, coffee, cups, sugar, little bags of milk, mosquito coils, matches) and finally decided that he should make two trips of it (and watched him negotiate the stairs twice, almost in the hopes that he would trip!). I wasn’t quite sure what to do, to be honest; although I was fuming, I didn’t dare say anything in case I lost control and because although he’s pretty skinny, he’s also pretty strong, and I didn’t want to get into a fight. Nor did I want to hurt him, accidentally. So, coward that I am, and also wanting a witness, I called Roger (who had asked to be informed of any transgression, of course), and invited him around for a brief visit. So, a few minutes later, Roger rang at the gate. Mustafa stumbled to the gate, looked at it in perplexity, hunted for the key in his pockets (he locks the gate as well as bars it) and stumbled back to his chair, without having opened the gate. Roger rang again, and this time, I came down and let him in, with Mustafa sort of hanging over us – I’d managed to get to the gate before Mustafa stumbled back. Roger didn’t say anything, just came upstairs and said – he’s drunk again!!! Yup, I said, that’s what I wanted you to see.
Of course, a few days before at the big meeting, we had just given notice that drunkenness would lead to automatic dismissal. Roger, however, pleaded for one more chance for Mustafa, and also pointed out that we needed to follow legal procedures, which include a written warning that had not yet been written. So, we decided that Roger would go and get André and bring him in from the other house, so that he could be the sentinel at the apartment, and that we’d send Mustafa home so he could “rest”. No sooner said than done, and Roger was back with André within 20 minutes. Mustafa, befuddled as he was, wondered why André was here, and I said that I thought Mustafa should go home to rest, because he didn’t look too well, and that, as a consequence, I’d asked André to come and keep the guard. Oh no, said Mustafa, I’m not tired, I’m ok, things are fine, André can go back to the other house. Roger then lit in and said that a) it was obvious that Mustafa was tipsy and b) he was refusing a direct order from his boss. I wish I’d been able to record the ensuing conversation, with Mustafa slurring his words, saying that he wasn’t tired, that he wasn’t tipsy, that the boss was just an old man who liked him, and anyway it was up to the boss what to do – all this while the boss kept on repeating that he should go home. I have a contract, said Mustafa, who must have realized that he was in danger of losing his job. Yes, I said, but your contract says that you have to be sober when you are at work. I am sober, he said, and I’m not tired and I must do my work. And so on, and so on…
This continued in the same vein for a good twenty minutes, with André trying to talk sense into Mustafa, but without any luck. Finally, I’m not sure quite how it happened, Roger just reached out and took Mustafa by the shoulders and pushed him out of the gate, and locked it behind him. Quite dramatic, I must admit. Roger then said that Mustafa should be suspended without pay for at least a week (for gross insubordination and for showing up drunk at work), a ruling with which I agreed.
So, Mustafa had a week off, without pay, and he wasn’t too chirpy about it, especially when pay day rolled around. Everyone gets paid on the last day of the month, and in March, this was on the Monday, and everyone was paid by 5 p.m. The next day, Tuesday is a day on which Mustapha works, and he duly showed up at 7 a.m., looking a bit worse for wear – I suspect that he’d been drinking on Monday night. Anyway… I came home at noon, as usual, for my lunch break, and, also as usual, Mustafa went off for his lunch. The guards are only supposed to be away for about 20 minutes when they go to get their lunch – I’ve asked them to bring it back to eat here, since they are on duty, and when Judith (the lady who “does” for me) is here, one feels a responsibility. Anyway, I left shortly before 1 and he hadn’t returned. Judith told me later on that he did come back shortly after 1, and that she then sent him out on an errand, to buy some pineapple. I guess he went off happily, but took quite a while to come back, telling Judith that he’d stopped off to have lunch (!). Judith said that she wasn’t sure what he’d had for lunch, but anyway…
I was due at the Hilton for a meeting with colleagues at about 4:00, and had a couple of errands I wanted to run in town before getting there, so I came back to the house at about 2:30 to drop off some stuff that I might need for the evening work. I knocked on the gate as usual, since the guards always pull the bar across the gate (quite right too!). No reply – I peeked through the crack between the wall and the gatepost, and all I could see were Mustafa’s feet, sticking out from under the stairs. When Dahirou is sleeping, he lounges in the guard chair, so I can see all of him (as it were), but this was a bit worrying. Anyway, I banged louder and louder, with no reaction from the man at all. I could see that Judith was still there (fortunately! She sometimes leaves at about 2, when she’s finished her work, with my permission), so I finally rang the doorbell. Judith came to the balcony, and I shouted up at her that Mustafa was sleeping (the whole street could hear, I’m sure!), so she came down to open the gate, making sure that she made lots of noise doing so. I came into the yard, and banged the gate shut, clanged the bar across it – absolutely no movement from Mustafa. I mean, absolutely none. A bit concerned, I came up closer to him, and called his name, but to no avail. I shook him a bit, and still no reaction. There was a definite whiff of alcohol and a couple of empty beer bottles (but of course, no proof that he’d actually been doing the drinking). Since it was impossible to wake him up, I left him there (too kind, really – I should have called someone and had him hauled out, but I didn’t have time), and went upstairs to fritter around the office. When I left, about 20 minutes later, there had been no movement, and I noticed that Mustafa had left his keys in full view. So, I pocketed them, and asked Judith a) to lock the gate behind me and b) to lock the gate behind her when she left. This is what she did – I phoned her later to ask if there had been any change, and she said that when she left, at four thirty, he was still in the same position, with no movement as she clanged the gate.
The meeting turned into a supper meeting, and I got back at about 9 p.m., and Aurel greeted me like a long-lost brother, and lit into his narrative about Mustafa and Dahirou. It turns out that the keys I’d picked up were actually Dahirou’s set of keys (no idea where Mustafa’s were), and he’d come to pick them up so that he could get into his shack! So, there they were conferring through the gate when Aurel arrived, Mustafa wondering where he’d dropped his keys (maybe when I had lunch, he said, showing how befuddled he was, since he couldn’t have got back in without his keys!). Dahirou, of course, was not pleased, since it now meant that he had to break the padlock to get into the shack and he also had the keys to a neighbour’s house… The final conclusion that these fine people arrived at (naturally, I suppose), was that Judith must have taken the keys! I disabused Aurel of this notion, saying that I’d picked them up for security reasons
The next morning (Wednesday), Dahirou came up to complain that his keys had been taken and was wondering if “la dame” had taken them. I said that she hadn’t taken them, but that I had, and that I didn’t know that they were his keys. I pointed out that Mustafa was sleeping so hard that anyone could have come in to take them (etc. etc). When I came home at noon, Dahirou handed me a note that Mustafa had delivered as an apology. I just grunted, and said that I would have a letter for Mustafa at the end of the day. In the letter, I gave a last warning, and added that any transgression, no matter how small, to the rules and regulations and responsibilities would be cause for immediate dismissal. I really wanted to fire him right away, but not being able to prove he’d been drinking on Tuesday, I felt that I should give him his second written warning, as required by the law.
On the Friday, Mustafa spent most of the day here, with Dahirou, although it’s not a Mustafa day. I’m quite sure he was drinking, as Mustafa has a strange way of talking when he’s under the influence. I did ask them to be a bit quieter, a couple of times, since I was working at home with a colleague. At about 2:30, the colleague and I went off downtown – she to her hotel (she was in town from Canada for a couple of weeks) and I to the bank. When I got back, Dahirou was nowhere to be seen (neither was Mustafa), and the gate was unlocked! Before I could get in, Dahirou came rushing up saying that he’d just gone out to buy a couple of cigarettes. I told him off for a) leaving without permission and b) leaving the gate unlocked! Lordy, lordy, but patience (even mine) was wearing thin…
And it goes on! On Sunday, Dahirou asked to go out for lunch at about 11:30 (permission granted) and he was back in about 20 minutes (probably just enough time for a couple of nips; how uncharitable of me). Anyway, at about 1:15, I went out on the balcony and noticed that the bar across the gate was down, a sign that the guards are outside on the street. Curious, because I couldn’t see anyone, I went down to open the gate and peeked out. No one around and THE GATE HAD BEEN LEFT UNLOCKED AGAIN. I was furious, to put it mildly! I was just about to pull the gate to, when Mustafa came rushing up saying that Dahirou was having a discussion with a man at the bar (yeah, right) and that he, Mustafa, was coming to take Dahirou’s place. I showed my annoyance by shouting at him, saying that I was paying Dahirou to guard during the day, and what business did Dahirou have to leave and leave the gate unlocked? I stormed upstairs, clanging various gates and doors shut behind me. What I should have done, of course, was lock Mustafa out and tell him to come back at his working time, and just left Dahirou to stew, but it was too late by the time I came out – Mustafa had gone to get Dahirou and they were both there. So I just banged doors shut. And wrote a letter for Dahirou too…
On Monday (nearly done, my friends!), I announced that there would be a meeting on the Thursday evening, with all guards. I wrote out all the rules and regulations (they are included in their contracts), invited Roger to be present, and read the riot act. I read out the rules, made sure that they said they had understood them, repeated again that this was the final warning for all of them, got them to sign the sheet of paper on which the rules had been printed, gave them each a copy of the rules and sent them away.
We’ll see now what happens…
While all this was going on, the work side was quite busy. My two colleagues from Canada were here, as it is the time of year to prepare the annual report and to plan next year’s activities, so it was a busy time, to put it mildly!
This has been quite long, but I hope not too boring! Looking back on it, it’s been quite amusing, but also frustrating. I think, however, I’ll leave you for now so you can all recuperate, and will add more in a few days’ time… Life in Cameroon is anything but boring!
Cheers!
David
It’s hard to believe that more than a month has passed since my last posting. It has been busy, both on the personal front and on the work front, so there hasn’t been much time to sit on the balcony or to write.
When I last wrote, I had rented a house down the road, and an outside toilet had been (almost) completely built for the sentinels. The toilet is still in the same state, you’ll be glad to know, that is, all is there except the bowl and the small sink. I think the agent hopes that I’ll cave in and buy them, but that would be admitting ownership and no doubt being held liable for the cost of the total. So there it sits. The dear man is unfindable, in spite of repeated phone calls (unanswered) and e-mails (equally unanswered), although he has been sighted by André, the sentinel at the new house. I’m waiting to see what’s going to transpire on that front.
On the electrical front, there was quite a lot to do. I think I promised an amusing account on that score, and I shall not disappoint, even if sometimes events were a tad frustrating.
One Saturday, I was inspecting the house and outside toilet, together with Roger, my helpful friend from the Centre, and André, the ever-smiling sentinel at the house, the bell at the gate rang, and it turned out to be the electrical inspector cum metre reader. He had come to deliver a bill and asked me who I was! It turns out that a) the previous lessee (or the owner) had left without paying bills and that b) to turn on the electricity, this bill had to be paid. I pointed out, gently, that it wasn’t my responsibility to pay off this bill, and the electricity man agreed that it was the house agent’s business to clear things up. The latter (Mr. Olli), of course, had told me that there was no problem, and that all we had to do was to go to the electricity board, the Société nationale de l’électricité (SONEL from now on) and sign a few papers to have the electricity contract switched to my name.
André’s radio was blaring, and from the gate, it was clearly evident that it was plugged into a socket, indicating that we were using electricity. The metre man, Ben by name, expressed surprise, since the electricity had been cut off at least twice since November. So he went over to the metre to see what was going on… Imagine our surprise to find that the metre had been by-passed, and that power was being stolen directly from the grid, with no protection whatsoever. Lordy, lordy! Well, said Ben, this is not only illegal but dangerous. I totally agreed with him, and asked what he suggested. So, it was decided that the SONEL people would come around on Monday morning and cut off the wires, and thus the electricity. Then I could set up my own account with the SONEL.
That evening, Roger and I called Mr. Olli. I asked Roger to do most of the talking, figuring that messages might be clearer if passed between two Cameroonians. Roger had a hard time getting through to Mr. Olli’s head – the latter just blusters on and on and tries to bulldoze his way out of things. Mr. Olli insisted that all was well and that I shouldn’t meddle with things that didn’t concern me. I pointed out that they did concern me, since the lease clearly stated that I was responsible for all electrical bills from the time of the signing of the lease, not before, and I needed bills in my name. Plus, I said to Mr. Olli, at the moment the electricity was being stolen off the grid, and I had no desire to be fined or imprisoned for stealing from the state, and that I had given orders for the electricity to be cut off on the Monday. Dead silence from the other end…
On the Monday, Aurel (one of the night guards, the talkative one), was delegated by Roger to go to the SONEL to see what should be done once the power had been cut off by Mr. Ben. He discovered that I would need to fill out papers, pay for the installation of a metre and all its accoutrements and that a deposit would be required. I duly took out the money that was required, and he went back to make the payments (I’d also filled out the forms) and start the process. A few days later, the new metre was set up, the illegal electric wire taken down, and the legal system put in place. Phew…
No, no, the saga isn’t finished yet! The new metre was set up during the morning of a Friday, and at noon, André came around to the apartment, looking quite woebegone, saying that the power had just been cut off! He said that he’d had power for about an hour, and then a team of electricity workers had shown up with a work order to turn it off. As I had all the papers with me, he couldn’t prove that the power had just been turned on legally, and the team said they were just doing their job and showed him the work order that they had. Poor man! I sent him back to the house, saying that Aurel would be showing up shortly. Once Aurel showed up, the team came back with their boss, Mr. Ben. Mr. Ben, if you remember, had told me that he was going to make sure that the illegal power was cut off, and that was the reason for the work order. It’s just that he hadn’t got around to it on the Monday or Tuesday, as originally promised. So Aurel and Ben went back to the SONEL to see Aurel’s contact there (who happens to be the district manager, fortunately) to see what had happened. The district manager was quite surprised and apologetic, since he had forgotten that he had signed that work order before signing the order to re-install the electricity. Héhé… all was well, however, and he ordered the team back to re-install the electricity, so the power was back on by 3 p.m. I’m sure there’s a TV series to be made of all this!
I suspect that I’ve made a few people in the neighbourhood unhappy, since I’m quite sure that the illegal line was feeding quite a few households… Ah well, I’ll have to live with it! No way am I paying for everyone’s electricity – it’s expensive enough as it is!
Of course, the speed at which all this was accomplished could not have been attained without the help of baksheesh left, right and centre (plus a bottle of whisky for the district manager)! I suppose I shouldn’t be encouraging that type of behaviour, but as Aurel said, if you want to get things done, you need to follow local practices, or else end up waiting for a long time (i.e., months or years) to get your legal connection. Poor Cameroonians… Fortunately, it was Aurel doing the baksheeshing, or the price would have been higher!
Meanwhile, on the apartment front, things have been happening also. I believe that I’ve mentioned the fact that Dahirou, the older day guard, has quite the liking for little sachets of whisky. The younger guard, Mustafa, does also, and this had led to quite a few amusing, if frustrating, moments.
Relations between the various guards seemed to have deteriorated dramatically over a few weeks. I suspect that Aurel’s self-importance together with the fact that he’d been haring back and forth from the apartment to the SONEL to the house hadn’t helped (he does strut with self-importance), plus, of course, the ever present jealousy that seems to be a fact of life in Cameroon. I’m sure Mustafa and Dahirou are wondering why I didn’t ask them to do all haring around. The answer is quite simple, really: Mustafa, nice as he is, is such a wimp and Dahirou is in his cups most of the time (or snoring it off) that neither of them could accomplish much.
Anyway, the latest ruckus started on the Friday evening of the day when the electricity was finally installed, when Dahirou and Aurel had words. As stated up above, Aurel had spent most of the week fixing things up with the SONEL during the day, and still guarding at night, and by Friday, he was pretty bushed, to put it mildly. So, on the Friday afternoon, when he came to confirm that the power was on, at about 3 p.m., I told him to take a few hours to rest and that he didn’t need to report for work until 9 p.m. (he usually starts at 6 p.m.). At 6, I told Dahirou that he could go home, because Aurel would be late, as I’d given him permission to be so. Dahirou said that he’d wait anyway, and I said that it was up to him, but that he was free to go (no way am I getting into paying overtime!). Dahirou finally gave up and went home at 8. At about 8:45, Aurel showed up, in time to start his shift; he put his motorbike in the parking area, locked all the gates behind him, and was about to come up to get his bottle of filtered water, when there was a knock at the gate, and it was Dahirou, almost banging. I happened to be on the balcony and saw Aurel ask who it was (he always does) and then open the gate to say hi to Dahirou and ask what he wanted. I didn’t hear what Dahirou said, but Aurel exploded and said that he had been given permission to arrive late, and what business was it of Dahirou’s to tell him off. Hard words then seem to have been exchanged, with Dahirou wanting to come in to pick up a couple of logs he’d collected during the day (to cook on), so Aurel got them for him, but threw them over the wall! It was from my vantage point fairly obvious that Dahirou had been drinking between 8:00 and 8:45, just from the way he was walking. Aurel was furious (of course, I’m sure he’s blameless in all this, hem, hem), and phoned Roger to tell him about this (they sort of report to Roger, in the sense that he hired them all, and he’s asked to be kept informed of all that happens; a very complicated management system to be sure!). Aurel wanted Roger to go and tell Dahirou off right away, but Roger said that he’d see Dahirou the next day. Roger then spoke to me, and I confirmed just what I’d been able to hear, and of course that I’d given Aurel time to rest before coming in to work. Roger and I agreed to discuss this the next day, or Sunday, when cooler heads might prevail.
Anyway, Aurel fumed around for most of the evening (he really doesn’t like Dahirou!), pointing out that his qualifications and experience and connections were better than anyone else’s around here and rant, rant, rant! I suspect that it’s that kind of talk that gets people’s backs up (doesn’t it always?).
Roger duly came round on the Saturday, and said that we should hold another meeting of the troops to clear the air (you’ll remember that there was one in early February). He doesn’t find it normal that adults should act like children, and of course it looks bad on him, as it were. As zebigboss, I’d have to be there too, and say a few words. Lordy…
Saturday was a normal day, in that Dahirou was at work (and slept a lot!), as was Sunday, and Mustafa came on for night duty, as usual (he works Saturday and Sunday nights, Tuesdays and Thursdays during the day). On the Sunday evening, Mustafa came up at about 7 and asked me if I’d seen the bow and arrows that are usually kept downstairs for the sentinels. No, I replied, the last time I’d seen them had been the night before. He said that they had disappeared. The mystery was (somewhat) cleared up a little bit later, when Dahirou came round to say hello to Mustafa; Dahirou had taken the weapons home, claiming they were his. After Dahirou had left, Mustafa asked me if this was the case. I replied saying that I had assumed that they were mine, in that I had a bill showing that I had bought a bow and arrows back in December, and that anything that I’d bought was for use by all the guards. Mustafa didn’t say anything, just looked quizzical and off he went.
If this is starting to sound like a soap opera, you’re not wrong….
So, Monday night rolled around, and the troops were gathered by 6 p.m., including André and Roger. We congregated downstairs, with me sitting on the steps, and began. I started off first, saying that I’d noticed that there seemed to be some discord at the moment, and I was hoping that things could get resolved, since I want a team to be working for me, not a bunch of individuals (management 101!). I also said that I’d noticed that alcohol was still being consumed, and that this was a final warning – not only were they not to drink on the job, but not to drink during working hours (in case it was interpreted that it was ok to leave and drink outside on the street!). I also added that I expected them to show up for work sober, since they couldn’t be very good sentinels if a bit woozy. All very diplomatic etc.
Then the fireworks started! Roger was sort moderating the meeting, so he asked if anyone had anything to say, and Aurel started up right away – quite the harangue about Dahirou, the fact that he had dared to insult Aurel on the previous Friday, that he had no right to question Aurel’s arrival time, etc. etc, not to mention that he (Aurel) had lots of experience, etc etc. Basically, Aurel was looking for an apology for the insults (which I felt he deserved, I must admit). Of course, Aurel claimed that Dahirou was drunk at the gate, and that on a number of occasions he’d had to bang hard on the gate to be let in, especially during this week when he’d had to consult me about the electricity, etc. Aurel does go on a lot… and doesn’t help his case!
Roger waited until he’d finished, and then asked Dahirou for his side of the story. Dahirou claimed that he had just come around to pick up the bits of wood that he had forgotten, and had just asked out of curiosity why Aurel was late, and then Aurel lit into him. Of course, I couldn’t corroborate that, since I hadn’t heard what Dahirou had said outside the gate… Then Dahirou went on and on about how from the beginning things hadn’t gone well; first there was the story of the radio – I’d given Aurel money to buy a small radio for the sentinels, and within a few days, it had been broken, and couldn’t be fixed (or so I was told). So I bought another one, but the original one disappeared, probably to Aurel’s home, and Dahirou thought that this was not on. Aurel fumed at this, and interrupted (this is a no-no, since the person who has the floor is allowed to complete his piece before someone else starts talking), saying that the radio had been broken because Dahirou had fiddled with it in the first place, instead of just using it normally, and besides what about all the cigarette butts that were always being littered about and that he had to clean up when he came on duty in the evening, not to mention the fact that the cardboard he’d brought, from his own home, to put on the ground so that all the sentinels could use it to lie on when taking a brief rest, and how come Dahirou was forever taking bits of the cardboard on which he “did his doings” and then threw it over the wall, which meant that the cardboard had to be replaced, and the fact that his things are always being gone through and there are never any matches left no matter what size box is there, and on and on and on…. Lordy… He finally calmed down after Roger yelled at him and told him that Dahirou had the floor. So, of course, Dahirou lit in, saying that all these things were lies etc etc, and he had his own litany of woes, the major one being that Aurel was always late by a few minutes even since he’d got his own motorbike.
Meanwhile, I drank my iced tea, wishing it was whisky (there’s an unopened bottle of Lagavulin in the cupboard, but maybe not unopened for much longer!). Roger then asked what had happened to the bow and arrows (Mustafa had gone to tell him of this event), and Dahirou said that as they were his, he had decided to take them home. At this point, I intervened, and said (unknowingly adding fuel to this boiling mix) that I had paid for these weapons, and that I had a bill to prove it, and that I’d give Aurel the money for this purchase at the time that he had presented me with his list of necessities (I think the list is in one of the previous blogs). Well – what a ruckus! Aurel said that when he had gone looking for a bow and arrows, he had been unable to find any, and had come back to say so, while Dahirou was around. Dahirou, according to Aurel, said that he had a set, so why didn’t he sell them to Aurel for 5000 francs (about $12.50), so that’s what happened. Dahirou retorted that that was not what had happened, that he’d only agreed to lend the bow and arrows until such time as new ones could be bought, and that he’d not received any money for them. Woo-hoo… what a fight of he saids you saids etc. Somewhere, of course, there was shifty work – not that a great sum was involved, but…
All this time, Mustafa and André were just spectating, Mustafa unsure what to say, since he’s related to Dahirou, but wanted the bow and arrows back, and André, as the newcomer, just standing there with a huge smile on his face.
Roger finally took command of all this, and started his speech and giving out orders of what should now be happening. First, he summarized what we had all heard, and pointed out that we’d never know the full truth, neither about the bow and arrows, neither about the quarrel on the Friday night, but pointed out that there seemed to have been funny business originally with the bow and arrows. He added that both he and I have more to do with our time than worry about childish behaviour (“I’m ashamed of you”), there are lots of other people looking for work.
Roger then warned the drinkers (Mustafa and Dahirou) that they’d better cease and desist, as this constituted their second formal warning. Mustafa mewed at this point that he’d never been derelict in his duties, at which Roger sneered and said that Mustafa had been quite tipsy the last time that he’d been around, about ten days before, and that M. David had noticed too. Mustafa looked at me at this point, probably for support, but I had to agree with Roger that Mustafa had definitely been under the influence and that I’d even had to go down and let a guest in at the gate because Mustafa had refused to open it. Anyway, a round of dismissals was threatened again.
The meeting finally came to an end, and Dahirou, Mustafa and André all went off, with Aurel staying behind, since he was on duty..
By this time, it was about 8:30, and Roger went off home, and I sat down to finish some work. Well, it didn’t take more than 10 minutes for Aurel to come in, having knocked and then just wandering in as is his habit, to say how angry he was at a) Dahirou and b) at the Roger had mismanaged the meeting. Of course, Aurel didn’t get his way at the meeting, so I assume that’s why he was annoyed. He was most hurt at being accused of stealing (the bow and arrows and false invoice), since he thought he was helping Dahirou out (the latter never having any money) and he knew, since he’s worked with other Canadian projects, that I had to have a receipt for every expense. Anyway, he ranted on and on, I just made hum and hah noises, and looked pointedly at my computer, but nothing was going to get rid of him, so I allowed the steam to flow. He finally left me alone.
Lo and behold, ten minutes later, the bell rang, so I went out to the balcony, to see Dahirou’s smiling face looking up at me from the street, to say that Mustafa would be along with the bow and arrows in a few minutes. Off he went. Off I went, back to my papers. Ten minutes later, the bell went again, and it was Mustafa, with bow and arrows, but he refused to give them to Aurel, and insisted on coming up to the balcony, made a little speech saying that these were the bow and arrows brought back for the time being until replacements were bought, handed them to me solemnly and off he went.
At this point, I must confess I’d had enough, and told Aurel that I really had to finish this work before I went to bed, and shut the door behind him.
The next day, I had to face Mustafa, who came to work promptly at 7 a.m. (instead of around 7:15), and he too told me what he thought – he too hadn’t liked the way Roger had run the meeting. Mustafa said that Dahirou claimed that he hadn’t received any money for the bow and arrows but that they would stay here until replacements were found. Plus, he added, he (Mustafa) didn’t want to be involved in this type of disagreement, because he always took his duties seriously and showed up for work even if he’d had a few too many (!!!). I pointed out gently that I appreciated this, but that if he were tipsy, he couldn’t be an effective sentinel – and repeated that I’d had to let someone in the previous week because he wouldn’t open the gate. Of course, he swore it wouldn’t happen again, and I said I hoped not, because his contract wouldn’t be renewed if it did happen again (he has a 6-month contract). And off he went…
And so, I thought, things would remain calm… Alas, it was not to be! If you need a pause from reading, this is a good place to take a break. Maybe have a glass of whisky?
As luck would have it, on the Friday following the meeting I had one of my sleepless nights – thankfully, they are very few here – and I woke up at about 2:45. At 3, I got up, since it was obvious that I wasn’t going to sleep again unless I had a cup of mint tea or something, and while waiting for the water to boil, I thought I’d ask Aurel if he’d like some water or a cup of coffee, or something. So, I opened up the doors (this is like unlocking Fort Knox), and called down to him. No answer. A bit concerned, I must admit, I went downstairs to see if he was ok or just sleeping (which no doubt happens a lot, although Aurel will never admit to sleeping on the job!). Imagine my surprise to find that he wasn’t there and neither was his motorbike. This type of absence had happened at least once before, so I wasn’t too pleased, obviously! So much for the paragon of sentinels! And another warning coming up…
Saturday was thus spent in a bit of a haze, of course, although I had a couple of naps to recoup. I’d gone back to bed at about 5, and was awakened by the doorbell announcing Dahirou’s arrival shortly before 7. He doesn’t usually ring the bell, but he announced with a big grin that Mustafa was there also. Being rather dozy, I didn’t register (it meant that Mustafa had come for money), and just smiled, shut the door and went back in! Anyway, when I went out shopping (the highlight of the week) with Njikam, the taximan, Mustafa was nowhere to be seen, and Dahirou was snoring it off as usual – he didn’t hear me clang open the bar, unlock the door and lock it again behind me. I supposed that he’d been drinking all night, ho hum…
Dahirou was awake when I came back a couple of hours later and the rest of the day passed quietly. At about 3:30 or so, the bell rang, and it was Mustafa. He had asked me, on the Thursday, if I could give him an advance on his salary (they don’t get paid until the end of the month), since he and his family didn’t have anything to eat, and at the time, I told him I couldn’t because I didn’t have any money on me (quite true) and that I wouldn’t have any until Saturday. Hence his visit… So, I gave him all of 5000 francs, which is all I could afford, and off he went. Dahirou, who never misses a chance to get an advance, told me he had to attend a funeral and could he have an advance too, so he got his 5000 francs also. Dahirou then went rushing off (to pay something, he said, truthfully, héhé) and no doubt bought himself a couple of little bags of whisky. Anyway, he came back, and left at 6, at which time Mustafa was to come on duty for the night.
As it happened, I was on the balcony and saw Mustafa carefully approaching the apartment, from the direction of the bar, of course (I mean, it’s in the same building). He was watching his steps carefully, and talking to himself and pointing at something. I’ve seen him like this before and know that it is an indication that he is tipsy. Well…. I wasn’t only disappointed, , I was bloody mad! Apart from the fact that he’d been warned again, it meant that the 5000 francs I’d given him a couple of hours earlier, theoretically to feed his family, had gone to booze.
You’ll remember that Mustafa says he can work even if a bit tipsy. So I watched him fumble at the gate, stumble up the stairs to get the bottle of water needed to make coffee, swaying as he made the request, admired him while he looked at the box in which the coffee accoutrements live (kettle, coffee, cups, sugar, little bags of milk, mosquito coils, matches) and finally decided that he should make two trips of it (and watched him negotiate the stairs twice, almost in the hopes that he would trip!). I wasn’t quite sure what to do, to be honest; although I was fuming, I didn’t dare say anything in case I lost control and because although he’s pretty skinny, he’s also pretty strong, and I didn’t want to get into a fight. Nor did I want to hurt him, accidentally. So, coward that I am, and also wanting a witness, I called Roger (who had asked to be informed of any transgression, of course), and invited him around for a brief visit. So, a few minutes later, Roger rang at the gate. Mustafa stumbled to the gate, looked at it in perplexity, hunted for the key in his pockets (he locks the gate as well as bars it) and stumbled back to his chair, without having opened the gate. Roger rang again, and this time, I came down and let him in, with Mustafa sort of hanging over us – I’d managed to get to the gate before Mustafa stumbled back. Roger didn’t say anything, just came upstairs and said – he’s drunk again!!! Yup, I said, that’s what I wanted you to see.
Of course, a few days before at the big meeting, we had just given notice that drunkenness would lead to automatic dismissal. Roger, however, pleaded for one more chance for Mustafa, and also pointed out that we needed to follow legal procedures, which include a written warning that had not yet been written. So, we decided that Roger would go and get André and bring him in from the other house, so that he could be the sentinel at the apartment, and that we’d send Mustafa home so he could “rest”. No sooner said than done, and Roger was back with André within 20 minutes. Mustafa, befuddled as he was, wondered why André was here, and I said that I thought Mustafa should go home to rest, because he didn’t look too well, and that, as a consequence, I’d asked André to come and keep the guard. Oh no, said Mustafa, I’m not tired, I’m ok, things are fine, André can go back to the other house. Roger then lit in and said that a) it was obvious that Mustafa was tipsy and b) he was refusing a direct order from his boss. I wish I’d been able to record the ensuing conversation, with Mustafa slurring his words, saying that he wasn’t tired, that he wasn’t tipsy, that the boss was just an old man who liked him, and anyway it was up to the boss what to do – all this while the boss kept on repeating that he should go home. I have a contract, said Mustafa, who must have realized that he was in danger of losing his job. Yes, I said, but your contract says that you have to be sober when you are at work. I am sober, he said, and I’m not tired and I must do my work. And so on, and so on…
This continued in the same vein for a good twenty minutes, with André trying to talk sense into Mustafa, but without any luck. Finally, I’m not sure quite how it happened, Roger just reached out and took Mustafa by the shoulders and pushed him out of the gate, and locked it behind him. Quite dramatic, I must admit. Roger then said that Mustafa should be suspended without pay for at least a week (for gross insubordination and for showing up drunk at work), a ruling with which I agreed.
So, Mustafa had a week off, without pay, and he wasn’t too chirpy about it, especially when pay day rolled around. Everyone gets paid on the last day of the month, and in March, this was on the Monday, and everyone was paid by 5 p.m. The next day, Tuesday is a day on which Mustapha works, and he duly showed up at 7 a.m., looking a bit worse for wear – I suspect that he’d been drinking on Monday night. Anyway… I came home at noon, as usual, for my lunch break, and, also as usual, Mustafa went off for his lunch. The guards are only supposed to be away for about 20 minutes when they go to get their lunch – I’ve asked them to bring it back to eat here, since they are on duty, and when Judith (the lady who “does” for me) is here, one feels a responsibility. Anyway, I left shortly before 1 and he hadn’t returned. Judith told me later on that he did come back shortly after 1, and that she then sent him out on an errand, to buy some pineapple. I guess he went off happily, but took quite a while to come back, telling Judith that he’d stopped off to have lunch (!). Judith said that she wasn’t sure what he’d had for lunch, but anyway…
I was due at the Hilton for a meeting with colleagues at about 4:00, and had a couple of errands I wanted to run in town before getting there, so I came back to the house at about 2:30 to drop off some stuff that I might need for the evening work. I knocked on the gate as usual, since the guards always pull the bar across the gate (quite right too!). No reply – I peeked through the crack between the wall and the gatepost, and all I could see were Mustafa’s feet, sticking out from under the stairs. When Dahirou is sleeping, he lounges in the guard chair, so I can see all of him (as it were), but this was a bit worrying. Anyway, I banged louder and louder, with no reaction from the man at all. I could see that Judith was still there (fortunately! She sometimes leaves at about 2, when she’s finished her work, with my permission), so I finally rang the doorbell. Judith came to the balcony, and I shouted up at her that Mustafa was sleeping (the whole street could hear, I’m sure!), so she came down to open the gate, making sure that she made lots of noise doing so. I came into the yard, and banged the gate shut, clanged the bar across it – absolutely no movement from Mustafa. I mean, absolutely none. A bit concerned, I came up closer to him, and called his name, but to no avail. I shook him a bit, and still no reaction. There was a definite whiff of alcohol and a couple of empty beer bottles (but of course, no proof that he’d actually been doing the drinking). Since it was impossible to wake him up, I left him there (too kind, really – I should have called someone and had him hauled out, but I didn’t have time), and went upstairs to fritter around the office. When I left, about 20 minutes later, there had been no movement, and I noticed that Mustafa had left his keys in full view. So, I pocketed them, and asked Judith a) to lock the gate behind me and b) to lock the gate behind her when she left. This is what she did – I phoned her later to ask if there had been any change, and she said that when she left, at four thirty, he was still in the same position, with no movement as she clanged the gate.
The meeting turned into a supper meeting, and I got back at about 9 p.m., and Aurel greeted me like a long-lost brother, and lit into his narrative about Mustafa and Dahirou. It turns out that the keys I’d picked up were actually Dahirou’s set of keys (no idea where Mustafa’s were), and he’d come to pick them up so that he could get into his shack! So, there they were conferring through the gate when Aurel arrived, Mustafa wondering where he’d dropped his keys (maybe when I had lunch, he said, showing how befuddled he was, since he couldn’t have got back in without his keys!). Dahirou, of course, was not pleased, since it now meant that he had to break the padlock to get into the shack and he also had the keys to a neighbour’s house… The final conclusion that these fine people arrived at (naturally, I suppose), was that Judith must have taken the keys! I disabused Aurel of this notion, saying that I’d picked them up for security reasons
The next morning (Wednesday), Dahirou came up to complain that his keys had been taken and was wondering if “la dame” had taken them. I said that she hadn’t taken them, but that I had, and that I didn’t know that they were his keys. I pointed out that Mustafa was sleeping so hard that anyone could have come in to take them (etc. etc). When I came home at noon, Dahirou handed me a note that Mustafa had delivered as an apology. I just grunted, and said that I would have a letter for Mustafa at the end of the day. In the letter, I gave a last warning, and added that any transgression, no matter how small, to the rules and regulations and responsibilities would be cause for immediate dismissal. I really wanted to fire him right away, but not being able to prove he’d been drinking on Tuesday, I felt that I should give him his second written warning, as required by the law.
On the Friday, Mustafa spent most of the day here, with Dahirou, although it’s not a Mustafa day. I’m quite sure he was drinking, as Mustafa has a strange way of talking when he’s under the influence. I did ask them to be a bit quieter, a couple of times, since I was working at home with a colleague. At about 2:30, the colleague and I went off downtown – she to her hotel (she was in town from Canada for a couple of weeks) and I to the bank. When I got back, Dahirou was nowhere to be seen (neither was Mustafa), and the gate was unlocked! Before I could get in, Dahirou came rushing up saying that he’d just gone out to buy a couple of cigarettes. I told him off for a) leaving without permission and b) leaving the gate unlocked! Lordy, lordy, but patience (even mine) was wearing thin…
And it goes on! On Sunday, Dahirou asked to go out for lunch at about 11:30 (permission granted) and he was back in about 20 minutes (probably just enough time for a couple of nips; how uncharitable of me). Anyway, at about 1:15, I went out on the balcony and noticed that the bar across the gate was down, a sign that the guards are outside on the street. Curious, because I couldn’t see anyone, I went down to open the gate and peeked out. No one around and THE GATE HAD BEEN LEFT UNLOCKED AGAIN. I was furious, to put it mildly! I was just about to pull the gate to, when Mustafa came rushing up saying that Dahirou was having a discussion with a man at the bar (yeah, right) and that he, Mustafa, was coming to take Dahirou’s place. I showed my annoyance by shouting at him, saying that I was paying Dahirou to guard during the day, and what business did Dahirou have to leave and leave the gate unlocked? I stormed upstairs, clanging various gates and doors shut behind me. What I should have done, of course, was lock Mustafa out and tell him to come back at his working time, and just left Dahirou to stew, but it was too late by the time I came out – Mustafa had gone to get Dahirou and they were both there. So I just banged doors shut. And wrote a letter for Dahirou too…
On Monday (nearly done, my friends!), I announced that there would be a meeting on the Thursday evening, with all guards. I wrote out all the rules and regulations (they are included in their contracts), invited Roger to be present, and read the riot act. I read out the rules, made sure that they said they had understood them, repeated again that this was the final warning for all of them, got them to sign the sheet of paper on which the rules had been printed, gave them each a copy of the rules and sent them away.
We’ll see now what happens…
While all this was going on, the work side was quite busy. My two colleagues from Canada were here, as it is the time of year to prepare the annual report and to plan next year’s activities, so it was a busy time, to put it mildly!
This has been quite long, but I hope not too boring! Looking back on it, it’s been quite amusing, but also frustrating. I think, however, I’ll leave you for now so you can all recuperate, and will add more in a few days’ time… Life in Cameroon is anything but boring!
Cheers!
David
Friday, March 14, 2008
Yaoundé, March 14, 2008
Greetings all!
Well, life has certainly been fun over the last few weeks, so this may be a bit long – just a warning. I suppose I could keep some of it for another time, but anyway!
In my last instalment, I mentioned that a general strike had started. As it turned out, it lasted for most of a week. As mentioned, in Douala, the economic centre of the country, about 250 km away, things got a bit rough, with a fair amount of vandalism and looting. This spread to other towns and cities in the country, with the result that a number of public buildings were burned, as well as a number of shops – and many shops that didn’t get burned got thoroughly looted. A number of people died also, 16 is the official number, and over a hundred according to the Cameroon Human Rights Watch organization. The police and other security forces were out in full strength, with a special battalion called in as well – unsmiling young men that you don’t want to mess with. Here in Yaoundé, things were calm, in the sense that there was very little looting, although there was a fair amount of marching, and the taxis stayed off the road, as did most other transport. The president finally spoke to the nation on the Thursday evening, basically saying calm down or else… and that all legal means would be taken to quell the uprising. He didn’t sound very friendly, to put it mildly. So, on the Friday, Yaoundé was back to vaguely normal, and an unsettled calm reigned everywhere. There were round-ups of hooligans (and anyone else caught in the net) and summary justice has been carried out all week – prison terms being handed out left, right and centre, and hundreds of people being processed per day, with no chance of raising a defence. Some of them are innocent, we are told, but too bad for them! According to the local radio, over 1600 people have been arrested across the country, most of them youths.
The president stated that the transporters’ strike was legal, and that hadn’t been the problem. The problem was unscrupulous opposition parties (any excuse for a thrust at them) who wanted to exploit the situation and also vandals and hooligans who took advantage of the strike to loot. Of course, the opposition parties have denied this, claiming that the government is using any excuse to blacken their reputations. Nothing was said in the president’s speech about the main underlying cause, the rise in the cost of living which is making it hard for all Cameroonian households to make ends meet. The price of basic necessities has risen astronomically, as had the price of gasoline. The president did grant a decrease in the price of gasoline by lowering it by 2.5 cents a litre (after having raised it to by 12.5 cent a litre!) and that was it. Some foodstuffs have increased by 140% over the last year, and in one instance by 400%, and, of course, salaries haven’t kept pace.
The following week was a bit tense – people aren’t sure what may happen once the president submits his proposal for a Constitutional amendment, allowing him to run for as many seven-year terms as he wishes (at the moment, the limit is two terms, and Paul Biya is nearing the end of his mandate, which runs out in 2011). Of course, the man was also president before the last Constitutional amendment, back in 1993; Biya first took over in a peaceful coup in 1982, after having served the previous and first president as prime minister since 1962. Only two presidents since independence… Mr. Biya, who is 75 this year, like many other presidents around the world (at least in many countries) would like to carry on until he’s in his grave – after all, who else could possibly do the job?
On Friday of last week (March 7), the president announced a couple of measures designed to make Cameroonians happier (and to ensure that his amendment goes through). First, he raised public servants’ salaries by 15%, as well as the military’s and then announced a series of reductions in excise taxes on various foods, to take effect on April 1 (April Fool’s?). Those who are not public servants or soldiers, of course, don’t get a salary raise, and are wondering why there’s enough money now to do all this… So we’ll see…
In my area of town, things are always calm, as we are way out in the suburbs, so nothing much happens. One just stays put… and stocks up on food and other essentials in case things go awry again.
The fun bit about the whole week (well, sort of!) was that a Canadian colleague of mine was here for meetings. She managed to make it from the hotel to the Centre on the first day of the strike, using a hotel taxi (they use unmarked cars, so were thought to be private vehicles). The next day, I went to fetch her at the hotel, with my taxi man Njikam, because taxis ran from 7 a.m. until 10 a.m. At noon, she went back to the hotel with the Centre’s driver. On the Wednesday, she took the hotel taxi again, and then, in the evening, I accompanied her back in the taxi, posing as her husband, and the taximan as our driver, in case we were stopped. On the Thursday, Liane stayed at the hotel but managed to get out again on the Friday, since taxis were back on the road. All fun!
The strike and its consequences added quite a bit of spice to life, since I had, a few days before, found a house that I decided to rent. A very nice villa, with three bedrooms, a huge sitting room, a dining room and a totally paved courtyard (to lessen the impact of the dust)! Very nicely finished, and not far away at all, just what I was looking for (a bit bigger than I need, actually, but as I have LOTS of furniture, I need a big place, if only for storage purposes!). Actually, I found it about two weeks before the strike, but it took a while to get things sorted out. There was a lease to be negotiated (I consulted a lawyer, at my employers’ suggestion, which was a good idea) and papers to be signed etc. etc. There were still a few things to be done to the house, nothing major, and I was assured that it would all be taken care of within a few days. Since I wasn’t and am not in a hurry to move (I can’t break the 6-month lease on the apartment; I did try…), I was quite agreeable to this scenario. In addition, there are a some things that I want to have done to the house before I move in, such as having mosquito netting installed at all the windows and doors, a hot water heater put in (alas, they don’t come automatically with houses) and an outside toilet for the sentinels. Here, at the apartment, they have access to a field next door which serves well, although Aurel, the night sentinel, tends to want to use the facilities indoors. This, I think, is because he is immensely curious and wonders what on earth I could be doing instead of talking to him!
Anyway, it took a few days to negotiate the lease to everyone’s satisfaction, but finally the papers were signed. The agent, Mr. Olli, had agreed that an outside toilet was a fine idea, and I told him that I would look after this, since it was my wish to have it. I also told him that I didn’t have the money to start the work right away, and that I’d have to get at least three quotes before I could start doing anything. This didn’t cause any problems with him (obviously), and, after walking around the outside of the house, we agreed on the spot where the said toilet would be placed. The strike intervened, so of course nothing could get done, but last week, I went around to the house to measure a few things and met Mr. Olli who was there. He asked if it would be ok to build a little room at the back of the yard, as the landlady thought that this would be a good idea for the future – a sort of shed, if you like, where sentinels could keep their stuff (and sleep, no doubt!). I said I had no trouble with the idea at all, providing, of course, that this was at the owner’s expense, since I didn’t need nor want a shed. No problem…
So, a couple of days later, I went around to the house again, and lo and behold, the shed was almost done. What was most surprising, though, was that the wall of the toilet was half-finished! I called Mr. Olli, who said that there had been some cement blocks left over (there were still some) and he thought he’d be helpful. I said that it was very kind of him to offer me the blocks, since I couldn’t pay for them. There was silence at the other end of the phone line. I reminded him that I’d told him that I had to get three quotes and that I couldn’t pay for anything anyway as I didn’t have the money. There was a bit of bluster at the other end – and I also reminded him that the toilet was my responsibility and that he really shouldn’t be doing anything about it.
In the meantime, the house had been unguarded. Mr. Olli had assured me that he had a guard in place, and one evening, I thought I’d stroll over to the house to meet the man, since I was going to be paying him for a few weeks. No one there… I went back the next evening, at a different time, still no one there. I tried in the middle of the day – no one there; I sent Mustafa, one of my sentinels, two evenings in a row, at about 9 and 10 o’clock, still no one there. Mustafa reported that a neighbour had said that there was no one around… So, the next day, I wrote to Mr. Olli (he reads his e-mail, fortunately) saying that I was a bit concerned and that I would hire a guard forthwith. I called Roger, the friend who works at the Centre and who has been very helpful, and, a couple of days later, he came up with a young man from a village somewhere, André, a brawny young man, whom I hired as a temporary guard.. So, we strolled over to the house and what did we find there… another sentinel!!!!
Together with the toilet episode, the finding of the sentinel sent vibes through the brain. The latter still functions every so often… It was very clear that I was going to end up paying for the shed! So, I asked Roger to deal with Mr. Olli, because I was starting to think that the man didn’t understand me (or didn’t want to, as the case may be). Not only was it surprising to suddenly find this second guard there, what was unsettling was that the guard had all the keys to the house, inside and out. I had understood that I had all the sets of keys, except for the one to the front gate, so that Mr. Olli could let the workers in. Of course, having hired André, I had to let the unknown sentinel go…
Anyway, to cut a long story short, we have had a few tiffs with Mr. Olli – the toilet wall has been built up to height, in spite of Mr. Olli being told to cease and desist, and the plumbing has also been put in. Roger is insistent that I don’t pay a cent for this work, because it shouldn’t have been done, so it’s quite nice to have a toilet built for nothing. Not sure how Olli is going to take it! However, he has been warned! Now, I just have to change all the locks to the outside doors… something that I was hoping to avoid!
There is still electricity to be set up – there is some at the moment, but I’ll need to have the contract changed over to my name, so that will no doubt be fodder for another blog! The various quotes for mosquito netting are in the works; these things take time, as one can’t have the various carpenters around at the same time, so it’s one per day… that should take up most of this week, then the decision as to who gets the work, and then we’ll see how long it takes to get it done – then the move!
On that note, I’ll leave you for now. In case you’re wondering, I still manage to get my work done around all this! It certainly makes life full!
Cheers!
David
Well, life has certainly been fun over the last few weeks, so this may be a bit long – just a warning. I suppose I could keep some of it for another time, but anyway!
In my last instalment, I mentioned that a general strike had started. As it turned out, it lasted for most of a week. As mentioned, in Douala, the economic centre of the country, about 250 km away, things got a bit rough, with a fair amount of vandalism and looting. This spread to other towns and cities in the country, with the result that a number of public buildings were burned, as well as a number of shops – and many shops that didn’t get burned got thoroughly looted. A number of people died also, 16 is the official number, and over a hundred according to the Cameroon Human Rights Watch organization. The police and other security forces were out in full strength, with a special battalion called in as well – unsmiling young men that you don’t want to mess with. Here in Yaoundé, things were calm, in the sense that there was very little looting, although there was a fair amount of marching, and the taxis stayed off the road, as did most other transport. The president finally spoke to the nation on the Thursday evening, basically saying calm down or else… and that all legal means would be taken to quell the uprising. He didn’t sound very friendly, to put it mildly. So, on the Friday, Yaoundé was back to vaguely normal, and an unsettled calm reigned everywhere. There were round-ups of hooligans (and anyone else caught in the net) and summary justice has been carried out all week – prison terms being handed out left, right and centre, and hundreds of people being processed per day, with no chance of raising a defence. Some of them are innocent, we are told, but too bad for them! According to the local radio, over 1600 people have been arrested across the country, most of them youths.
The president stated that the transporters’ strike was legal, and that hadn’t been the problem. The problem was unscrupulous opposition parties (any excuse for a thrust at them) who wanted to exploit the situation and also vandals and hooligans who took advantage of the strike to loot. Of course, the opposition parties have denied this, claiming that the government is using any excuse to blacken their reputations. Nothing was said in the president’s speech about the main underlying cause, the rise in the cost of living which is making it hard for all Cameroonian households to make ends meet. The price of basic necessities has risen astronomically, as had the price of gasoline. The president did grant a decrease in the price of gasoline by lowering it by 2.5 cents a litre (after having raised it to by 12.5 cent a litre!) and that was it. Some foodstuffs have increased by 140% over the last year, and in one instance by 400%, and, of course, salaries haven’t kept pace.
The following week was a bit tense – people aren’t sure what may happen once the president submits his proposal for a Constitutional amendment, allowing him to run for as many seven-year terms as he wishes (at the moment, the limit is two terms, and Paul Biya is nearing the end of his mandate, which runs out in 2011). Of course, the man was also president before the last Constitutional amendment, back in 1993; Biya first took over in a peaceful coup in 1982, after having served the previous and first president as prime minister since 1962. Only two presidents since independence… Mr. Biya, who is 75 this year, like many other presidents around the world (at least in many countries) would like to carry on until he’s in his grave – after all, who else could possibly do the job?
On Friday of last week (March 7), the president announced a couple of measures designed to make Cameroonians happier (and to ensure that his amendment goes through). First, he raised public servants’ salaries by 15%, as well as the military’s and then announced a series of reductions in excise taxes on various foods, to take effect on April 1 (April Fool’s?). Those who are not public servants or soldiers, of course, don’t get a salary raise, and are wondering why there’s enough money now to do all this… So we’ll see…
In my area of town, things are always calm, as we are way out in the suburbs, so nothing much happens. One just stays put… and stocks up on food and other essentials in case things go awry again.
The fun bit about the whole week (well, sort of!) was that a Canadian colleague of mine was here for meetings. She managed to make it from the hotel to the Centre on the first day of the strike, using a hotel taxi (they use unmarked cars, so were thought to be private vehicles). The next day, I went to fetch her at the hotel, with my taxi man Njikam, because taxis ran from 7 a.m. until 10 a.m. At noon, she went back to the hotel with the Centre’s driver. On the Wednesday, she took the hotel taxi again, and then, in the evening, I accompanied her back in the taxi, posing as her husband, and the taximan as our driver, in case we were stopped. On the Thursday, Liane stayed at the hotel but managed to get out again on the Friday, since taxis were back on the road. All fun!
The strike and its consequences added quite a bit of spice to life, since I had, a few days before, found a house that I decided to rent. A very nice villa, with three bedrooms, a huge sitting room, a dining room and a totally paved courtyard (to lessen the impact of the dust)! Very nicely finished, and not far away at all, just what I was looking for (a bit bigger than I need, actually, but as I have LOTS of furniture, I need a big place, if only for storage purposes!). Actually, I found it about two weeks before the strike, but it took a while to get things sorted out. There was a lease to be negotiated (I consulted a lawyer, at my employers’ suggestion, which was a good idea) and papers to be signed etc. etc. There were still a few things to be done to the house, nothing major, and I was assured that it would all be taken care of within a few days. Since I wasn’t and am not in a hurry to move (I can’t break the 6-month lease on the apartment; I did try…), I was quite agreeable to this scenario. In addition, there are a some things that I want to have done to the house before I move in, such as having mosquito netting installed at all the windows and doors, a hot water heater put in (alas, they don’t come automatically with houses) and an outside toilet for the sentinels. Here, at the apartment, they have access to a field next door which serves well, although Aurel, the night sentinel, tends to want to use the facilities indoors. This, I think, is because he is immensely curious and wonders what on earth I could be doing instead of talking to him!
Anyway, it took a few days to negotiate the lease to everyone’s satisfaction, but finally the papers were signed. The agent, Mr. Olli, had agreed that an outside toilet was a fine idea, and I told him that I would look after this, since it was my wish to have it. I also told him that I didn’t have the money to start the work right away, and that I’d have to get at least three quotes before I could start doing anything. This didn’t cause any problems with him (obviously), and, after walking around the outside of the house, we agreed on the spot where the said toilet would be placed. The strike intervened, so of course nothing could get done, but last week, I went around to the house to measure a few things and met Mr. Olli who was there. He asked if it would be ok to build a little room at the back of the yard, as the landlady thought that this would be a good idea for the future – a sort of shed, if you like, where sentinels could keep their stuff (and sleep, no doubt!). I said I had no trouble with the idea at all, providing, of course, that this was at the owner’s expense, since I didn’t need nor want a shed. No problem…
So, a couple of days later, I went around to the house again, and lo and behold, the shed was almost done. What was most surprising, though, was that the wall of the toilet was half-finished! I called Mr. Olli, who said that there had been some cement blocks left over (there were still some) and he thought he’d be helpful. I said that it was very kind of him to offer me the blocks, since I couldn’t pay for them. There was silence at the other end of the phone line. I reminded him that I’d told him that I had to get three quotes and that I couldn’t pay for anything anyway as I didn’t have the money. There was a bit of bluster at the other end – and I also reminded him that the toilet was my responsibility and that he really shouldn’t be doing anything about it.
In the meantime, the house had been unguarded. Mr. Olli had assured me that he had a guard in place, and one evening, I thought I’d stroll over to the house to meet the man, since I was going to be paying him for a few weeks. No one there… I went back the next evening, at a different time, still no one there. I tried in the middle of the day – no one there; I sent Mustafa, one of my sentinels, two evenings in a row, at about 9 and 10 o’clock, still no one there. Mustafa reported that a neighbour had said that there was no one around… So, the next day, I wrote to Mr. Olli (he reads his e-mail, fortunately) saying that I was a bit concerned and that I would hire a guard forthwith. I called Roger, the friend who works at the Centre and who has been very helpful, and, a couple of days later, he came up with a young man from a village somewhere, André, a brawny young man, whom I hired as a temporary guard.. So, we strolled over to the house and what did we find there… another sentinel!!!!
Together with the toilet episode, the finding of the sentinel sent vibes through the brain. The latter still functions every so often… It was very clear that I was going to end up paying for the shed! So, I asked Roger to deal with Mr. Olli, because I was starting to think that the man didn’t understand me (or didn’t want to, as the case may be). Not only was it surprising to suddenly find this second guard there, what was unsettling was that the guard had all the keys to the house, inside and out. I had understood that I had all the sets of keys, except for the one to the front gate, so that Mr. Olli could let the workers in. Of course, having hired André, I had to let the unknown sentinel go…
Anyway, to cut a long story short, we have had a few tiffs with Mr. Olli – the toilet wall has been built up to height, in spite of Mr. Olli being told to cease and desist, and the plumbing has also been put in. Roger is insistent that I don’t pay a cent for this work, because it shouldn’t have been done, so it’s quite nice to have a toilet built for nothing. Not sure how Olli is going to take it! However, he has been warned! Now, I just have to change all the locks to the outside doors… something that I was hoping to avoid!
There is still electricity to be set up – there is some at the moment, but I’ll need to have the contract changed over to my name, so that will no doubt be fodder for another blog! The various quotes for mosquito netting are in the works; these things take time, as one can’t have the various carpenters around at the same time, so it’s one per day… that should take up most of this week, then the decision as to who gets the work, and then we’ll see how long it takes to get it done – then the move!
On that note, I’ll leave you for now. In case you’re wondering, I still manage to get my work done around all this! It certainly makes life full!
Cheers!
David
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