Build on seven hills with a population just over 2.000.000, you can find this always buzzing town, filled with controversy, the capital of Cameroon, Yaoundé. In the last 10 years it expanded in size so rapidly that the growth has brought along its own problems. Everywhere you look, buildings are being build, roads are being worked on. Hopefully all this will improve the future prospects of this town, but for now it means that whole neighbourhoods are being cut off water and electricity for a few hours, days, weeks, or even months. And there is nothing you can do about it or nobody, you can complain to. You just need to suck it up and live with it.
Rich and poor here, live side by side. You will find well-guarded villas, with high walls intended to keep out the outside world, next to an improvised two-bedroom house, housing a family of 7. Without fail, almost everybody belongs to one of the churches you can find on every street corner, while most families still travel to the village for the traditional ceremonies, rituals and in times of desperate need the councils of a witch doctor against all kind of curses. Billboards are gracing the roadsides, advertising products, that most most will never be able to afford. The main form of transportation is the yellow cab, which dominates the street view. Aside the road corn, plantains, fish and a lot more yummy food is being grilling on small barbeques, by women selling them. And everywhere you go, someone is pumping up the volume to fill your ears with the never failing beats of the makossa. This town is always buzzing with people, regardless if it is 6 in the morning or 12 at night.
Somewhere in this town, in a neighbourhood called Emana, not to far from the cross road Bonne Fontaine, through a labyrinth of allyways, half way down the hill, you will find a group of woman sitting on a veranda, grooming each other. The veranda at my aunties’ house has been turned into a beauty parlour for the afternoon, as we need to get our self-ready for the night. As I am working my magic on my cousins hair, my skills with the hot iron, propels me to head stylist and before I know it, I have a few more ladies waiting their turn. I really do not mind I like to bring out the best in people. It also reminds me of my long distanced past, where I grew up in a house filled with woman and where afternoons like these where weekly routines. For a while, it seems like I have never left. Gossip is flowing richly; the use of language is colourful and creative. If you are looking for new talent for stand up comedian, here is where they should be looking. The originality in use of language is unmatched. Everybody has something to say, except I, who normally can be pretty quick of the tongue, am mute for once. After the translation has taken place in my head, the moment to react has past. Besides in this moment I am one of the women, where my skin colour heritage and nationality plays no part whatsoever and I would like to keep it like that. Besides I sound pretty stupid with my late reactions, so I just rather be mute, look pretty and enjoy the entertainment around me. Growing up, it are these moments I have missed more than anything else.
Suddenly the conversation is brought to the subject of cholera. A child of a friend of someone they know has died from it and two more others in the neighbourhood have been diagnosed with the disease. You can feel the weight change in the air. Prior to now, cholera was an epidemic in town everybody talked about, but now it had crossed the boarders of our own neighbourhood and it becomes real. I can feel the gravity of peoples fear and concern. Everybody knows the problem is the lack of fresh clean water, but if the government doesn’t resolve it, how can you? It makes you feel helpless.
But as soon as the weight of the problem has touched the ground, the conversation picks up again; everybody has something to say about the subject. Soon the jokes are making their entry again and the mood picks up. Meanwhile the evening air has brought along rain, and a storm is announcing itself. As the first raindrops are leaving their mark in the earth we pack up with the speed of light. Rain, just set hair and electrical equipment are not a recipe for good ending of the evening. Besides it is time to get ourselves dressed and to make our way across town in one of the many yellow cabs.
under: Reisverhalen