Our trip to Cameroon - part 1

As an association that is committed to promoting understanding between different cultures, it is important to us to actively offer and shape this exchange. For this reason, we organize trips to Cameroon, for example. In August, a travel group set off from Vienna to Cameroon and one of our fellow travelers, Niki, also kept a travel diary. Read for yourself what happened in part 1...

August 12th

It's the official beginning of the Cameroun Trip, now that the group has fully assembled. Our day starts with an early rise and slight delay, just enough to get into the spirit of things. Everybody seems excited. We break fast at city of ubuntu headquarters in Yaoundé, proceeded by a briefing by JD2. We undertake this journey in the spirit of 'encounter'. Everybody introduces themselves quickly. We can already tell, there is going to be a lot of laughs on this trip.

Impromptu intermezzo: We drop in and say hi to the students in a couple of german courses upstairs. They seem shy. I know how they must've felt, I remember our spanish teacher doing the same thing to us once.

Before our departure from Yaoundé, we stop at a large supermarket 'Carrefour'. It's like walking into a mall in Austria. a couple of snacks and jokes later, we're off to Tonga. JD2 turns to our driver and utters words which, over the course of this journey, will become iconic: 'Mr. Obama! Fire!'

We drive through traffic jams, bustling markets and run down streets. 10 000 glimpses into 10 000 lives, they pass us by in an instant. People move with a purpose. Traffic seems to be a living, breathing organism. Rules of the road are more of a suggestion than the law. Our driver applies the horn. It sounds like an angry blender. Driving in Cameroon seems to be more about manoeuvering around potholes and pedestrian, rather than staying in your lane. I'm already grateful for Mr. Obama's driving skills.

Soon, the colours of a busy city give way to the green of the countryside. Not many seem to be going our way. Red soil and green all around. Even through a bus window, you can tell: This is a place where things grow. During a short bathroom break, Stephan chats up a nice banana saleswoman. Bananas for everyone. That should be a song. Maybe it will be.

On the way, a truck almost runs us off the street into a little boy. Mr. Obama doesn't even blink and threads the needle like a champion. Our unsung hero, Mr. Obama. After a 4 hour drive, we arrive at Tonga and check into the Sah Fabeu. The accomodations seem... meager. The shopping team is off to the market for groceries. Then everybody cooks, running like a well oiled machine in a very greasy kitchen. Camerounian meets austrian cuisine. ...delicious...

August 13th

Today, we depart for city of ubuntu. Breakfast seems as good a time as any to share some of our horror stories about our rooms. Instead of getting on our bus, we squeeze into two cars and hit the road. It'll be obvious why soon. Before we get there, we need to traverse about 10km of dirt road. No way our bus would've made it, even with Mr. Obama's driving skills.

We arrive at city of ubuntu, the city where dreams come true. We are greeted by Mr. baba osmanu, his wife and children, as well as Mr. Basil, resident expert and agriculturer extrordinaire. He gives us the tour. This place exhumes serenity. Green all around us. Yellow birds swoop between tree tops. There's three houses, a well with drinking water (120m deep), the pig pen, different crops, there's a lot to see. Basil explains about the plans for the fields and the difficulties during the harvest, not the least of which being the distances the crops need to be carried. after the tour, we go to work.

The newcomers are planting mango trees. Without much ado, we get to it. It's a great opportunity for the pros to chuckle at my ineptitude in wielding some of the worktools. Oh well, if ever the citizens of ubuntu need to find the 'indentation' option in MS Word, then i'll be the one laughing. In any case, I'm hoping for the best for my little tree. May you flourish, despite the rough start I've given you.

We share a meal with our hosts. Baba osmanu is retiring. We want to make it official and thank him properly. This travelgroup is amazing. Even while doing the dishes, a full song and dance number breaks out. And it doesn't stop there. Everyone gathers in front of house nr. 2. We sing. We dance. Today, all walls come crumbling down. Today, dancing is not a skill, not an option, not a matter of opinion, but a matter of fact. We depart for our hotel. But even before dinner, we know: It was a good day.

August 14th

Today we visit the kingdom of Bandjoun. We are here to learn about the pre- and post colonial administration of the province. We start with Bandjoun palace, the historic seat of the king. Our friendly tour guide explains all about the palace, the king, the royal family, the nine 'notables' (the royal advisors) and more. He teaches us about relics and rites, there is a lot to take in. Every detail seems to have meaning, not all of which I can wrap my head around. Of course, a couple of hours is way to little to grasp the ins and outs of an entire culture, but the visit left a strong impression nonetheless.

Afterwards, we take a look at the post colonial administrative building. I ask JD2 about his opinion on how things are run. His answer is vague, and yet telling. 'It is what we have.' food for thought on the drive to Bafoussam. On the way, we stop at a church, a huge building constructed by an extremely weathly business mogul (well, I guess he didn't do a lot of constructing himself).

Welcome to Bafoussam. The city seems as busy as Yaoundé, just smaller. Before we arrive at our lodgings, Mr. Obama has to navigate a short path on a dirt road, which seems just as treacherous as the one to city of Ubuntu. I can't believe that man. I would have probably fallen on my ass just walking down that road, and yet he hauls the entire bus down there, like it's nothing.

The look on everyones face when we see foyer Mt. de soubiran... I guess after our experiences in the Sah Fabeu, a tent would've sufficed, but this place seems like a royal palace by comparison. The kitchen isn't even mortifying at all. We are in a great mood. While the grocery team is at the market, we teach Ryan 'the crew'. Tonight's pasta night. Before we eat, there is still time for a round of 'taco, cat, goat, cheese, pizza'. They love it. My goal in life should be to understand how to derive this much fun from something this stressful.

August 15th

Oh pious day! There's a lot on our plate, so we have to rise really early. Everyone is dressed in their sunday best, even though it's thursday. We are headed for Bamendjou. Those dirt roads, they'll really wake ya up in the morning. First order of business is assumption day mass. We arrive at a huge church, shaped like a massive toblerone. It is part of a 'piarist' congregation.

JD2 has spent three of his highschool years here, so he shows us around. He introduces us to his friend Dr. Bernard. He will accompany us for the day. The church interior is something else. I have seen many depictions of a crucified jesus and the stations of the cross, but never quite like this. All done in three colours, very stylized, with every character seemingly wearing masks which are split halfway down the middle. I really like it.

I'm generally versed in the structure of a mass, so most of it is familiar, but the vibe is completely different than what I'm used to. The people really get into it, there's singing and laughing. Especially when it's preaching time. I have no idea what that man is talking about, but he seems to have very strong opinions about it. I wonder, whether he would be able to express the sentiment in a more concise manner though. In the end, the priest calls on us to take center stage. Oh dear! I don't like public attention, not even at home...

Next stop is the big one. I've never met royalty before (never intended to either). The meeting with the king of Bamendjou turns out to be both everything and nothing I expected. At Bamendjou palace, we are greeted by a friendly Ving Rhames impersonator. He shows us around the palace museum and tells us about the Foo (the king) and his heritage. Parts of the family history are quite harrowing. Bernadette assumes interpreters duty. By the end of the day, she will be quite exhausted. Then it's time to meet the man himself. Tensions are rising. What's an african king in 2024 like? We are being briefed on how to approach and adress the Foo. Don't forget to sit properly, as not to offend. There he sits. Slouched on his throne, over two meters tall, an expression of utter bemusement on his face. We greet him individually. We sing for him. He does not show the slightest inclination to smile. Ving assures us, that even though he has the face of a lion, we should think of him as more of a fatherly figure to us. He seems less like my father, and more like alan rickman to me. We get the opportunity to ask the Foo some profound questions. I ask him about boxing.

The conversation with the Foo turns out quite well, in my opinion. He may carry himself like a poker player, but he does adress our questions earnestly and elaborately. He clearly knows a lot, and despite his demeanour, we do feel his passion as he talks about the disruption politics of colonial france. He seems pleased with our visit and our gifts of wine and pumpkin seed oil. Before we depart, he blesses us and we get a photo op. I feel my tension easing as we leave. I wish I was more like Dominik (who throws a gang sign during his royal photoshoot). 'maybe don't take it too seriously.' He suggests.

It's rough terrain again until our next stop. A monestary of the dominican order, mere de dieu. Once again, JD2 is very familiar with the place. Even though the nuns are really friendly and excited to see us, it's a strange encounter. Something I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe it's the way we are completely seperated from our hosts by two sets of iron prison bars. That dominican order doesn't mess around. Introductions and a round of questions are followed by a real spread. They pass the food and plates through a revolving tray on one side of the room. Those nuns really put in the effort for us. We sing for them before we leave, they seem elated. I feel strange as we say our farewells. Those ladies have been so nice to us. I just hope they are as content here as they deserve to be.

On our way home, Dr. Bernard invites us to his home. His father was one of the notables of the king. He shows us around his grounds and tells us about the burial rites in Bamendjoun. We do our best to stay attentive. It has been a long day. On the way to the bus, Dr. Bernard offers to let us harvest some of his plantains. I decline (I'm seriously gonna hurt someone with that machete). Under JD2's instruction, Dominik harvests us enough to last the entire trip. Before we head back, we say goodbye to Stephan, who has urgent business in Yaoundé. We will hopefully reunite in Douala, before our trip is over.

August 16th

I think everybody appreciates a little break after yesterday's busy schedule. Today, we have a late breakfast and formulate a rather laxe plan. We visit a waterfall in the outskirts of Bafoussam, called Les Chutes de la Metche. It's a spiritual place for the locals, where they put out little sacrifices in the form of salt, cornmeal or other food items. They are for good luck or as a token of appreciation. The falls themselves are beautiful. We enjoy the occasional water droplets on our face.

We also visit a newly constructed visitors center, although it's not open yet. Still, that doesn't stop us from spending quite some time there, taking pictures. After that, we gun for an early return. A small splinter cell takes to the market for some ingredients. Tonight's cultural exchange night. We prepare austrian cuisine (or as close as we can get with the available ingredients). Afterwards, we start the cultural festivities.

We, the austrian chapter of our group, decided to prepare a quick game of "1, 2 oder 3" for our travelmates. They really get into it, and we keep the momentum going. The home team shows us their respective traditional dances and they each introduce themselves in their native languages. Then, they even teach us some moves. Soon, we are all dancing wildly, mixing styles. Maggy even starts an impromptu Schuhplattler lession. Once again, all cultural barriers melt away. By the end, we are all exhausted.