August 17th
It's a roughly two hour drive to today's destination. We're going to Foumban, where Paul is from. 'Foumban is the city of art.' he explains proudly. First, we check out the museum of the kingdom of Bamoun, to see if it lives up to that description. And does it ever.
The entire building has the shape of a giant spider (hairs and all) on top of a two headed snake. These are the totem animals of the Bamoun kingdom. The whole complex is newly constructed, so we don't really know, what awaits us inside. It turns out to be my favourite museum in this trip so far. The exhibits are interesting and well curated, and our guide gives me some serious Bob Ross vibes (although he looks nothing like him). Relics, artefacts and photographs of the various kings and queens of the dynasty populate the well lit halls. After the tour, we even get a musical encore. Professional musicians playing local music on traditional instruments. Once again, the room can't help but turn into a dancefloor. Before we move on, we even catch a glimpse of the current king. He doesn't glimpse back though. That's two kings in the same week. Definitely a new record for me.
Foumban market reminds me of a giant, but less yellow beehive. Although I can barely manoever without stepping on someone's toes, our native companions assure us, that it's a slow day, apparently. We score some fabric. I'm eyeing some really nice white robes. I want to look culturally appreciative, although I'm afraid with my complexion I'll come across more like a friendly ghost in those threads.
Paul's family invited us to lunch, so we drop off at his block. Again, we are being cateredl, like we reside in Bamoun palace. As various family members adress us formally, things get emotional. They thank us, they tell us, how proud they are, of Paul, and to be our hosts. They say, it's a privilege to have us as guests. We don't need Berni's translations for this one, we all understand. I want to tell them, how much fun it has been with Paul, how grateful we all are, that he is with us, how glad I am we met... alas, I can't get over myself. as we say goodbye, I hope that somehow they know, even without any words.
August 18th
It rained tonight. Everything is still slick, as we head out to todays destination, Baham. Before we get there, we actually pick up 4 more passengers. First up is Jakob, a freelance journalist and photographer. On the way, he explains about baham and its ties to the colonial slave trade. Next, we pick up Dores, a prosecutor for the city of Bandjoun and her daughter Angele. Finally, Simon, an artist who will act as our guide in Baham. He explains about the sacrificial customs, but JD2 does not seem too pleased. Some of Simons information seems inaccurate and he is overly eager to share some strange views. 'This man...' JD2 sighs. We traverse a sacred grove, a beautiful landscape accentuated by huge granite boulders. At times, the slippery terrain turns into quite the challenge. On our way, we come across some natives, who show us their mushroom and grub farms. Angele quickly takes a shine to Ryan. I don't know, what they're saying, but they are adorable together.
On our way to the next stop, we are fortuitous enough to stumble across a public sacrifical ceremony. A bunch of people are gathered around a tree, sharing food, drinks and sweets. We are immediately welcomed. The sacrifice is considered more rewarding, the more people share. The host explains, that he currently lives in Yaoundé, but every once in a while, he travels home for this rite. How lucky, we should drive by at this time.
As we stop by a village called Bandenkop, the rain sets in again. The place is intriguing, but we don't stay long. It's a day of rest for the denizens and strangers are not allowed inside. We are permitted to take a quick look at a skulpture of their first king though.
As we pull into Bapa village, I very much expect the same thing as Bandenkop. As it turns out, we will be spending most of our day here. At first sight, the place seems pretty, if a bit innocuous. As we approach the main square however, we notice a big, modern looking museum. We decide to take the tour.
Our guide emits a totally different energy than our last one. He is high strung, jokes around, flirts with the girls and frequently asks us questions. He wants everyones full attention. Most of our group, especially our female contingency isn't too impressed with the guy. I thought, Bamoun would be a tough act to follow, but I end up really enjoying my time in the Bapa museum. The exhibition is set up for immersion, there are reconstructions, miniatures and even a botanical garden with local herbs, spices and trees.
As we peruse the gift shop, the rain goes into high gear. We try to wait it out, but it won't let up. We get a quick, late lunch at the nearby restaurant, which serves an authentic local dish in rather limited quantity. Then we get on our bus.
I was worried about us getting back. This rain on these roads... but it was just another opportunity for our dear Mr. Obama to show his mettle. At one point we come across a collapsed power line. 'just go around' we say. But our esteemed driver just pulls through, in what has to be a fit within inches. Then the dreaded dirt path to our hotel, flooded and slick. Us white folks look worried. Paul just smiles. of course, Mr. Obama makes it. I swear, he could park this bus on the Großglockner.
August 19th
Today's a day off. While we prepare for a long bus drive tomorrow, we try to make the most of our last day at the wonderful foyer Mt. de soubiran. Some of us visit the market, we do laundry, play cardgames and try to find all of our belongings strewn about the place.
Somewhat unexpectedly, JD2 calls a meeting. He says, our journey is coming to an end. What's going on? Theres still a couple of days left, right? We reflect on our time together. There's some beautiful words by our Cameroonians. Then it's time for bed. We have a long way to go tomorrow. I keep thinking about these past days. 'Time eludes us' is the last thing I think, before drifting to sleep.
August 20th
We spend most of our day in the bus today. As we travel south, temperature and humidity rise. It's mostly smooth sailing as we cross over from the french- to the english speaking part of Cameroon. Soon, the rain picks up again and the roads get nastier. As we arrive in the city of Buea, we are greeted by the mother of all traffic jams. A seven hour trip turns into ten hours. An old aquaintant from the last travel group, Douglas, has invited us into the luxurious hotel Pinorich villa, where he works as a chef. We enjoy a fantastic buffet.
Due to the condition of the roads, we decide to skip the initially planned trip to Limbe. Half out of exhaustion, half out of necessity, we decide to lodge at the Pinorich. Thanks to JD2's bargaining skills and the managers leniency we could even afford the stay. After dinner, Douglas shows us around.
The upstairs ballroom plays host to a special occasion. The casting show 'hidden voice' is looking for Cameroon's next singing sensation. Suddenly, someone just shoves the mic into Anna's hand, and next thing she knows, she is being pushed on stage. Even though some of the lyrics slip her mind, she wows the judges. We are so proud and excited. What a way to end this day.
We are shown to our rooms. These are easily the most exquisite (and expensive) accommodations on this trip. Since it's Dominik's last day, we decide to get some drinks at the bar and dance until we collapse. What a joyous evening.
August 21st
It's the beginning of the end. After a good night's sleep in our luxurious lodgings, we eat the remains of yesterday's spread for breakfast and head out to Douala. It's Dominik's last day, so after a short restocking of supplies in the local Spar, where we're reunited with Stephan, we head to the airport. I'm sad to see him go, he contributed greatly to the lively atmosphere of the group. Unfortunately, his flight departs at midnight and we don't have the time to stick around. I hope he gets through the rest of the day in Douala airport ok.
Our goal for today is to get to Kribi at the Atlantic. On the way, we're regularly stopped by police. This is not a new occurrence, but today, the officers get increasingly testy. The last one seems to seriously consider, wether or not to let us pass. I hope this trend doesn't continue.
It's already dark, when we arrive. After dinner, we check into the centre pastoral St. Joseph de Kribi.
August 22nd
Today is just supposed to be a relaxing beach day. After breakfast we head to the river lobe, which runs into the Atlantic. We charter two canoes (pyroges) to go a little way up the river and visit the local pygmee people. These boats are quite riquety, and some of us are not fond of water. Still, we brave the waves and see the natives.
Our visit with the pygmies left me feeling kind of somber. While seeing these people living in the middle of the jungle was interesting, they seem kind of despondent to me. The kids appear underfed. The floor is littered with plastic wrappers and a kind of sachet. It turns out to be packets of vodka, whiskey and gin. We even see one of the tribesmen drinking the stuff. As we leave, we give a small donation to the village chief. He immediately hands over the money to a non-native saleswoman, who pockets it, and starts to hand out sweets and alcohol. A fight breaks out. We want to give the children something, but our guide explains, if we hand over money, the grownups will just take everything. We buy some food items and distribute them to the children. The looks on their faces are the highlight of this visit. As we drift hack on river lobe, my mind remains with these kids. They still have the potential to learn anything, become anybody. Yet they spend their childhood amidst a people who, if you believe JD2's analysis, could disappear within a few decades.
We return to kribi beach. It's a beautiful place with hardly any people. We spend the rest of the day relaxing, drinking out of coconuts and jumping in the waves. For a couple of hours, we simply enjoy kribis natural beauty.
We have a guest over for dinner. Vanessa's older sister carolina drops by. We get some life updates and share some stories. Then, we return to our acommodations. Before we go to sleep, we gather in Ryan's room to reminisce about the journey. Once again, the spirit of ubuntu is palpable. We share our appreciation and gratitude. I feel warm as i go to sleep, and it's certainly not because of the bed.
August 23rd
It's raining. Our plans to spend some time at the beach are put on hold. Also, we have to hurry with the breakfast, because the next guests arrive ahead of schedule. We head back to Douala early. On the way, we decide to stop in the town of Edea. We peruse around the market, then we keep on.
We make good time and check into lodgings by the St. Pierre et paul cathedral in Douala. We get dinner at a nearby restaurant, although they seem kind of in over their heads. They don't have enough food, so we need to wait a while. That's just fine with us. Gives us time to chew the fat about our time together. In the meantime, Anna is in correspondence with a judge from 'hidden voice'. He wants to conduct a follow up interview and is on his way.
While Anna is being interviewed in front of the cathedral, we say goodbye to two of our most stalward members. Mr. Obama takes Paul to Yaoundé.
Farewell Mr. Obama. Thank you for getting us everywhere.
Farewell Paul. Thank you for working so diligently, for making us laugh, for making us dance.
Before we retire for the night, the remaining crew assembles in front of the cathedral to chat into the night. This far into the journey, it's still one of the highlights.
August 24th
This is it. Time to close the book on an unforgettable trip. Eat your breakfast, get your stuff, pack your bags. In three taxis, we roll towards Douala airport. Then it's finally time to say our goodbyes.
Through the windows of the plane, we look down on this country, we have learned so much about. We head back to our daily lives. But I think, tiny parts remain. A part of us in Cameroon, and a bit of Cameroon in us.
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