It’s been nice (pt. I)
Ahhh, Bamenda. It’s been nice being here for the past five nights. Not too often we’ll have access to a hot shower. So this morning I made sure to get up pretty early so I could take one. Not exactly early (7:30am), but quick enough to get in there before someone else moved in. I tried as best I could to savor every second of this momentous occasion. Once back in Foumban it will be bucket baths and cold showers for a few weeks. Sounds delightful, eh?
By the time I got up, Patty, Olga and their mother were already dressed and packing; they’re pulling out today as well. Nick was up fixing breakfast, and Jeff’s sister had showered and been out on the porch reading. Becky and Akilah were still calling home the cows, as were Sean and Sandra, Jeff and his sister’s husband.
Once Akilah is awake, we’ll be heading towards one of the agencies to ride on to Bafoussam and do some emailing, banking and visit the post office. We’ll also have to add up our bill. When you stay at a PCV case, you pay a fee to assist towards the upkeep of the house. The Slum charges 2500 CFAs per night per person. Our bill is going to be somewhere around 25000 CFAs for the two of us. Not bad, somewhere about $35 USD for five nights stay. Now where can you go on vacation for a price like that?
Oh, how considerate would it be if I didn’t also immortalize the cats that stay at The Slum? There’s Thunder, the black cat, and Mapuka, a grayish colored cat. They’re level animals, but have this constant desire to sit in someone’s lap and be caressed. Guess some would call it spoiled, huh? From what I hear they’re pretty efficient at catching mice. But sometimes you just want to be “cat-free” and with these two, if there’s a lap, there’s a place for them to jump. Not to mention they are very skilled at jumping on top of the kitchen counter. Nerve wrecking for a “clean-buff” like me. Arggh!
Man, oh man, oh man! What a h@#% of a day! We finally leave good ol’ Bamenda town to head to Bafoussam. First stop is to the bank so we can refill on some cash; those markets and eating out really took the best of us. We’re at the bank right, and it’s not as crowded as it has been or usually is this time of the month. But for some reason I’ve noticed that this weekend in Cameroon, the people are either rude, or just very adamant about getting what they want and screw everyone else. Before I go into the bank, lemme tell you what happened in Bamenda.
We get a taxi to Mazi Express, only when we get there; there are tons of folks. I found out from a woman near me (as Becky and Akilah went to check on tickets). That a bus has not been there for some time, and it seemed as if it would be awhile. Naturally Becky and Akilah return to affirm this sentiment. It would be at least three buses before we’d get a seat. So the nice woman gives us directions to Savanna Express; they may be a little bit slower, but at this rate, anything is worth a try.
Trudging up to Savanna, I decide, I need to walk a bit faster, for some reason there was a lot of built up energy I needed to burn. We get to the agency office, though we almost went in the wrong direction, and find out we’ll be waiting for about the third bus before we could leave. Gees! Talk about luck. So we decide to stay put and wait. Good choice. The buses were coming in fairly quickly, and that suited me just fine, I just wanted to get going. I was actually gonna be able to access the internet today; I realized this was my energy source.
So I see two buses come in, pack up and ship out. I go to the counter to ascertain that we’re on the next bus. I thought the guy said the bus after this, but apparently that accent thing got in the way. What he actually said was the bus after next. What does that mean? But we find out after we’d gotten onto a bus, well really I kind of beau guarded my way on (you gotta understand these folks are ruthless when it comes to getting seats) only to find out after we were seated we were to be on the next bus. Now I really was not too happy; especially since I thought I’d heard him say the next bus.
Of course we get off the bus, nothing like getting stopped by the Gendarme and your name isn’t on the list. I have no intention on finding out what happens or what its like.
Within ten minutes the next bus pulls in, now I know after the way I had to fight to keep our seats open on the other bus to be standing at the door when it stopped. I was, but you would’ve thought the women pushing and shoving thought that meant I was going to hold the door open for them. Yeah, right!
Afterwards, I could not believe that I actually had to act like a straight up 3#%&!, the nerve of them. Standing at the door, after one woman pushed her way passed me I held out both arms and placed my hands so that no one else could pass by me. This one woman tried to give me a look like I should’ve cared she wanted to get past. I kept repeating to them I was not going to move, and was intending on holding the three back seats for us. This bus was about one row smaller than the rest, which means there would be about four or five disappointed folks, I was not to be one.
It was only after making my statements about five times in succession with as firm of a voice as I could get (if you know me, just think of me irritated that someone’s trying to get over on me). The woman finally stopped, but still didn’t want to back up. So there was no choice but to stand there and guide Becky and Akilah through the door of the bus (why am I calling it a bus when its really a mini van?) to the seats on the back row.
Guess at this point the women are complaining to the woman responsible for assuring the right people were on the right bus, because after we were seated, and four other women boarded, she called off names of the first eight or ten folks. We were numbers four, five and six. Hah! Thought they had me. My adrenaline was flowing like I was about to get into it; I definitely need to calm down.
Anyway. . . back to the bank. So Akilah and I stand in two separate lines, we wanted the best chance of getting to the counter quickly. Her line was the one, but there seems to be a lack of understanding what a line is here. Has anyone ever heard of setting up dividers or something so folks can flow in an orderly fashion? Maybe they like mass havoc here. Must, because no one seems to think it’s out of the norm. You realize that some things here just won’t change unless one day everyone just says, “No! I’m not going to do it.” Very unlikely though, and that’s sad. If you know Cameroon, you know what I mean.
Anyway, though Akilah is in position to get her transaction done quickly, I remain in my line hoping to be able to exchange some money. I now want to rid myself of these travelers’ checks. But guess what? Remember in an earlier entry I mentioned sometimes you have to be flexible? I should’ve reread it before going to the bank. By the time Akilah pushed and shoved her way to where she should’ve rightfully been, she’d had enough of dealing with the folks and decided I should wait until the weekend we were going to Becky’s post to come back.
What?! Not do what I want, when I want? Who’d ever heard of that concept? Surely not this control freak. However, seeing as how I neither know the language, nor do I want to make her upset, I unwillingly and poutingly submit; but not before trying every tactic I know of to attempt to convince her and Becky (who’s now entered) that I should do it now. Akilah made one important statement to Becky, “Tell him about communication in Cameroon.” She’s right; it would’ve taken more time to have the teller understand what I wanted to do than it would’ve been to actually complete the transaction. Oh well. Give in.