Mom & Dad- Part IV: The End of the Road

In Bamenda we stayed at the Hotel Ayaba, the only hotel outside of Douala and Yaounde with an elevator. With all of the african food we had been eating, my parents thought it time to have a cheeseburger and fries at Dreamland. It was dreamy. Dad was kinda funny since he was still trying to speak french to people even though we had crossed over into the english speaking part of the country. He still got what he wanted, which I guess is the most important thing. The really weird part of the night happened just after we arrived. I noticed a white person out on the balcony, so I went over to the door to figure out if I knew him or not. It turned out to be the business volunteer based in Bamenda eating with a Cameroonian friend of his. He invited us to sit with him and we started talking. As it turned out, Mike (who is about 55) not only went to the same high school as my Dad in Cleveland, but also grew up on the same street (albeit a long one)! It was a really strange coincidence which launched into a protracted "where are they now" and "do you remember" discussion. It was a great night for my Dad, and truly an "Its a small world" moment.

I really wanted to visit my friend Susan, who's a business volunteer in a village called Bali, just outside of Bamenda. As luck would have it, she was down in Bamenda for her mid-service medical evaluation, so we didn't see her. I still decided that we should go to her village, since she had told me many times about the artisan village there supported by the Presbyterian church (actually, its become so profitable, that its the artists who support the church). Its one of the few places in this country where you can go see craftsmen at work chruning out amazing pieces with mostly simple, almost primative tools. For example, most of the wood carving happens with a wood mallet and chisel.

After that, we headed up to another village not too far away where another friend, Greg, is posted. Sadly, he was in the US on vacation and couldn't show us around either. We did check out the chefferie there, which had been written about in some famous English book called the "Bafut Beagles". Anyway, it was pretty neat, but they wouldn't let us into any of the "secret" rooms.

We made it back into Bamenda in time for a late lunch, which just so happened to be attached to Bamenda Handicrafts! Mom was happy, and between lunch and shopping, we all spent about three hours and several hundred dollars. I was particularly pleased with a large carved wood drum that I got for myself which was so large, I had to ship it separately to my house in Edea (it cost $10 for the wrapping and transport). I absolutely love it, but I haven't yet figured out how to get it back to the States.

After a bit more shopping, my friend, Mindy, called to ask where I was. She was en route back to her post north of Bamenda, so I asked her to join us for dinner. Sister Rose is one of those restaurants that don't look like much, but the food is damn good. Between five of us, we ate an entire grilled chicken, an 18 inch long grilled fish, cooked greens (called njamma-njamma) and fried plantains. We were bursting, but very happy. Sleeping that night was not a problem for anyone.

Early the next morning, we shoved off for the long drive back to Edéa. We arrived very tired and went straight to sleep. The next day, we drove down to Kribi for the day to relax a little (Kasimir was particularly happy to lay out on the beach with a cold drink). We had a wonderful lunch and then dinner on the beach (shrimp, of course) and drove back to my house in time for bed. The next day, we began the unpacking and repacking ritual, trying to figure out how to get everything that everyone had purchased (including some things that I had accumulated over the last year) back to the US without paying supplementary baggage fees. It wasn't easy, I can tell you.

That night, we were invited to the home of one of the bank's former board members, Emile. His house was chosen to host the bank's reception for my parents since its the nicest and most conveniently located (he's a gendarmme, sort of a paramilitary police unit). There were about twenty people who showed up including almost all of the women's committee and the board of directors. The women had cooked all day and we all ate and drank for several hours. Speaches and presentations were also done, with me providing translation services. The board gave my parents some really nice carved wood items, and my parents brought a camera for the bank and some American fl?g lapel pins,?which they really loved. They also brought some things that I had bought for the bank's computer.

After finishing packing the next day, we headed out to Douala airport. I talked my way through customs (without paying, thank you very much) and all the way up to passport control. I left them there and returned home to sleep. The whole trip had been a success and I was really happy that my parents had an opportunity to come here and experience life here in West Africa.