Next stop : Foumban (via Bafoussam)
Well, this part of my vacation has come to an end. Its time for Akilah and I to head to Foumban. We head to the main road to find a taxi, and are eventually picked up by the second one. Becky walks us up to say good-bye, and we make plans to meet up in Bamenda for New Years’ Eve.
The taxi is to take us to the gare, but for some reason, he decides we’ll be better served if we get a ride with one of the taxis at the “clando gare;” which it turns out is much closer than the real one, but far too crowded. After about a twenty to thirty minute wait, we are finally assisted by the woman in the PMUC booth to get a car. See, every time one pulled up it miraculously filled before we ever heard anyone say it was going to Douala. Turns out there are hand signals we should’ve been paying attention to; that’s how everyone else knew when to charge the car.
What’s PMUC? If you’re in NYc think OTB; you’re not? Well its a company that has booths set up throughout every city in Cameroon (at least all of them I’ve been to) set up specifically to take bets on horse races going on in France. Yeah, France, a six-hour plane ride across the water. I later find out that one of the owners of PMUC is the owner of CRTV, the local television station in the country, so they end up with quite a few spots interspersed between the programming.
Anyway, we finally get a cab. Though there are about seven of us in the car, we’re fortunate because one of our passengers is a Gendarme. This essentially means that we have a “stop free” ride between Limbé and Douala.
When we arrive in the Douala area and Akilah notices we’re passing the Binam agency. This is the one on which we’re gonna purchase a ticket to Bafoussam. We get out and walk over to the depot area. She’s surprised to notice there are no buses there. Usually there are about two or more loading whenever she arrives.
Not only are there no buses, but also the depot area is crowded. We could go to another agency, but she prefers Binam because the buses are usually much more comfortable, and since we’ve got a long journey ahead of us, its important to at least have some comfort.
The first bus is too crowded, so we have to wait for the next. However, by the time we notice the next bus (its now at least an hour or so later), so does everyone else, I’m thinking, “I’ve checked the lay of the land, and the trick is to get to the bus as quickly as possible and place an item of yours in the seat.” I tried. Good thought, but for some reason Cameroonians seem to be more hip to the game than I. Go figure.
While we wait for the next bus, Akilah now goes on the hunt for food. Me? It’s my job to stay with the bags and get us a seat on the next bus when it arrives. Yeah, right. I watch how folks are acting with this one to reserve their seat; sticking their arms through windows to place bags or whatever in the seat.
After a minute (remember, when I say minute I don’t mean literally) Akilah returns with omelet sandwiches for the two of us. Since I can now eat during the day (as Ramadhan ended yesterday), I’m more than happy to devour it.
As the second bus is across the street in a lot, attempting to turn, the waiting passengers decide to run over and begin to board the bus before those that are on disembark! What! I’ve not seen such rudeness from Cameroonians since I’ve been here. What’s going on?
Eventually the bus does make it to the depot area, and one of the porters begins asking some of the people to unboard the bus, because there are others, who’ve already purchased tickets, who’ve been waiting longer. At least I guess that’s what happened because this time Akilah is near the door of the bus, and she manages to claim two of the seats for our trip. She wants to make sure I get a space that will give me at least some resemblance of legroom.
While she does that it’s my job to get my bags and her gift box (not the one I mailed, but one she just received from her mother) on to the top of the bus. In Cameroon, unlike the states, luggage is loaded on top of the buses and tied down. I manage to do this painlessly. Well, sort of. In my vanity I’m disappointed that my once new knapsack will obviously begin getting stained with the infamous red dirt everywhere in Cameroon. Oh well.
I finally board the bus, take my seat; well, actually Akilah and I are sharing a seat. Somehow the other three people on the road don’t seem to want to move over and share the four seats the five should be using. Yep, inconsiderate.
The ride is not bad, as I’m enjoying the scenery. This is the first day trip so I get to see what Cameroon really has to offer in terms of landscape. It’s really gorgeous. The only part I hated was trying to remain comfortable stuffed between two women (translated, not thin) to our left and a gentleman to my right. He didn’t take up too much room, but from the body language I could discern a certain obstinacy about moving to allow any room. Oh well. During the course of the ride, we do the body dance (each maneuvers until we finally get the space we want) to get more comfortable.
The bus does stop in a town on the way to Bafoussam; this is actually a rest stop. As soon as the bus pulls up in front of this one area, we’re immediately engulfed in a stream of folks trying to sell us something. I mean they’re not even giving us time to get off the bus; they’re literally trying to get on. And I thought street vendors in NYc were treacherous.
During our fifteen-minute stop, Akilah and I go into the bar (at least that’s what it resembled) and purchase two large bottles of pamplemousse. I’m really getting to like this drink. It’s got an odd taste, since I’ve never had grapefruit soda before, but it’s really refreshing.
Our journey continues. We stop off in another town to let a few passengers out. This time to give us each more room, Akilah moves to the row behind us, there’s now a vacant seat. It is a little more comfortable, but now one of the women sitting to the left appears to want even more room. The nerve of her; so we body dance.
As we’re almost to Bafoussam, the woman next to me begins putting on a fall coat. I’m thinking, “What’s she doing? It feels gorgeous right now.” Then I remember that I’m used to weather getting below a certain point (like zero) these folks get cold when it begins entering the low seventies. Wow, wish the states could be so lucky year round.
Finally, we arrive in Bafoussam before nightfall and as we’re walking across the street to find a bush taxi going to Foumban, Akilah’s shocked one is actually pulling up.