Maroua up close
I think today is market day in Maroua, or maybe that’s what it felt like. We walked from the hotel to the market are in search of pagne, and to kind of see some of the sites. Most of what was in some of the stalls was pretty basic, but for some reason I don’t think either of us was in a negotiating mood. So we didn’t purchase anything.
While walking through the market area and some of the surrounding stores, we stopped off to have a d’Jino at some spot that was supposed to be like a store, but had so much dust on the products I doubt if anyone ever comes there to actually buy them. The one thing that did sell while we were there were the drinks. I still can’t figure out why people own stores here. Do they intend on making money? Or is it just to socialize?
Since the Laking store was right around the corner, we had to stop in there. For once I’ve walked into one of their stores and found a fabric that I actually liked. I’m gonna take it back to Foumban and have Amadou make another outfit for me. Maybe two African outfits won’t be too heavy to add to my bags – especially since I’ll have about six or seven pants once I pick up the last few from Titus.
We found out we were also on the side of town where the Credit Lyonnais was situated, naturally we had to walk there just to familiarize ourselves with the area for tomorrow. We were going to see if they exchanged AMEX Traveler’s Cheques and find out information about doing electronic wire transfers.
Afterwards we walked over to CGD (a supermarket) to find something to eat. Akilah found some nice cheese that we later brought some bread for. It was definitely a needed snack since more than half the day had gone by and we’d not eaten a bite.
All in front of the market area, and just across the street from it, there were people (specifically children) begging. This was new to me, since I’d not really seen folks literally standing on the corner asking for money. Akilah reminded me that we were in a predominant Muslim society, and the giving of alms is a part of the culture. But what I’ve never understood is whether you were supposed to ask for it, or the respective Muslim would give it because he sees you’re in need. Someone will need to explain that to me.
It was a long way back to the Mizao and we were both kind of hot. When we began checking out, I think the frustration of the long trip, long walk and hot day began to get to us both. Akilah became frustrated with translating, and I became frustrated with not being able to understand. It was a pretty tense period of the day.
Guess it all started because of us not understanding that we were being put into a room that was slightly more expensive than what we’d imagined. Moreover, if I couldn’t exchange the money or use my credit cards, our cash reserves were going to be extremely tight. To kind of get our composure together, we both just walked from the hotel to the center of town in silence. Actually, we had no idea where we were walking, but she didn’t feel like translating and I didn’t feel like trying to fumbling through to find someone who spoke some bit of English.
During our walk, we happened upon d’Artisinant, the place where you can get crafts and leather (or other skinned goods) at a reasonable price; that’s only if you’re willing to negotiate. We kind of stuck our head in the door then walked right back out, the vendors were beginning to hound us and we were still searching for Bouba Pété’s house.
Sensing that Akilah’s frustration had reached it’s peak, I suggested we go to the Restaurant l’Artisinant to have a drink. She was reaching her limit, because no matter who we asked about Bouba Pété’s house, they could tell us they knew where it was, but no one wanted to give us directions there; they wanted us to take a moto.
We had our drink and regrouped, and while sitting there noticed a tourism brochure; it was actually for a place on the corner. So we walked over to the tourism office and thank goodness there was a very helpful guy there. We were able to ask a few questions about taking a trip to Roumsiki, and about exchanging money in the morning.
The gentleman even walked us back to the CGD market area to see a guy who does money conversion. This was good to know in the case that the bank didn’t exchange traveler’s cheques. But I was really hoping they would this guy was doing 600 CFAs for every US dollar, and he does cash only.
We began looking for the Sahel hotel after we parted from our helpful counterpart. However, by the time we reached the bridge he directed us to, we somehow realized we were headed towards the Maroua “casse.” Once we headed down that path we began feeling as though we were finally getting somewhere. As we headed down the path, we had to stop once to ascertain we were headed the correct way.
As we headed towards the PC house, we passed by a young lady waving to us from on a moto. It turns out I was about to finally meet the last person of color stationed here in Cameroon. What luck, after hours of walking, someone who can finally tell us where to go.
We spoke with Stacy for a few moments, as her moto driver waited patiently. After inviting us to dinner and giving directions to her quartier, she gave us directions to the PC house. As we walked through the quartier, we were graciously greeted and “bonjoured” continuously by a slew of children.
Once we arrived at the casse, we were greeted by cows heading home. Well, we actually passed the house and didn’t know it. When we did we were right in the middle of a herd of cattle splitting off to go to their respective homes.
I joked to Akilah that even the animals knew where they were going, that it was us stupid Americans that had no clue. That was evident as the cows were not being sheperded by anyone. They were just going to their respective compounds. As they were, I tried to snap as many photos as possible. At one point we thought two of them were coming directly for us. Now only city folk would think cattle were coming after them; they only wanted to go home.
Once we escaped that fear, we headed for the corner we’d just passed. The casse was right on the corner. Madi the guardian said he didn’t stop us because he didn’t see any helmets. After we set our things down and got our bearings, Akilah picked through the extra helmets in the casse and then we went out to find a moto.
The first time on the moto was very scary, but I think I’ve now adjusted to riding them; somewhat anyway. We needed to ride to Stacy’s quartier, Zokol. It’s on the way to the Mizao. The ride took all of maybe ten minutes, and Stacy and her colleague were sitting for dinner (or at least the colleague was). We’ve not had luck with showing up on time when being invited to dinner, maybe in the future we should just ask for times.
During our dinner conversation one of her neighbor’s came over, Babaka; he’s from Senegal. We also found out he has a silver shop next to the Restaurant d’Artisinant, maybe we’ll make it past there before we leave. After a while I let everyone else talk and became consumed in a vegetarian cookbook Stacy had. I needed to get some recipes before we left.
When it was time to leave, she walked us to the main street and called a moto for us. These rides are really cool. Akilah does get a little nervous when we’re riding and she notices that I move my hands from holding onto her, or that I’m turning around to look at the sites. Hey, I really, really, like these things.
Tonight we’re staying at the casse so we can conserve a little money, the Hotel Mizao was a little more expensive than what we thought, and it wasn’t really worth it. Especially since we thought we’d be using a credit card to pay for it.