It was the best of times it was the worst of times

  Douala, Cameroon
Saturday, August 23, 2008

Today was like Dickens' description of the French Revolution in A Tale of Two Cities: "It was the best of times it was the worst of times." The worst of times came first. The Commissaire Premier Adjoint had told us to come back to the airport before 8:00, and that the Commissaire, the decision maker, would be at the airport during the night, but would be leaving at 8:00. It was all false, but we didn't know that at the time. So we left the hotel at 7:00 and were at the airport and back in the security area at 7:15. We waited. I left my three traveling companions at the hotel, since there was no need for them to come and sweat this out.
 
To kill time I started reading the notices posted on the walls. There was the code of justice written in "français facile" (simple French). It took several posters. There were memorandums and instructional documents from various ministers. One I found interesting was from the minister of tourism from 12 years ago, invited various officials to a conference where they would discuss how to make Cameroon more friendly to tourists. It explained that there had been many complaints from tourists about police and other government agents, especially in the airport, for hassling them and otherwise being disagreeable, and giving a bad impression of the nation. "How interesting" I thought to myself. As if on cue, right at this point, a female officer some meters away, yelled at me "Monsieur, Monsieur, stop reading that, you are not allowed to read that!" I went back and sat down, and continued waiting.
 
The Commissaire arrived at 8:45. There had never been any question of his spending the night at the airport. About 15 minutes later I stepped into his office and explained our situation briefly, and how I thought there had been a misunderstanding (which was a euphemism, but a gentle description seemed pragmatic). He listened, asked our nationality, and said his adjoint would take care of this matter, but his answer indicated he wished us to have visas. That was very positive.
 
We went back to wait. Mr. Mabout suggested that he drive Mr. Hongerloot, Daniel and Cindy to the Church hall to get the camp started, since we couldn't really know how long this would take. I readily agreed, so he left. I continued waiting
 
I sat next to two Cameroonians who had lived in Europe illegally for ten years and had just been deported back to their native country. After their time in Europe, they were quite hot about the system here, but they were as stuck in limbo like we were. I waited calmly and patiently, at least I did my best to appear to do so. Since the Commissaire had indicated that we were in fact within the rules and could stay with no problem, the attitude of the uniformed officers in the room had noticeably warmed. I was no longer viewed (quite visibly) with suspicion and hostility, but with compassion.  They smiled at me, and assured me they were doing everything they could to expedite thing. I was assured by the visa officer and then by the Commissaire himself, that the Premier Adjoint would be arriving any time, since they were all going to the levée de corps (a ceremony when the body is removed from the mortuary to be taken to the cemetery) for a former colleague from the airport security staff. They were leaving at 10:00, and were sure he would arrive by then. The Premier Adjoint didn't arrive. I continued waiting. 
 
At 10:00 almost the whole staff left for the ceremony. Since the prevailing winds were positive for us, I didn't dare leave, though I did go upstairs to the restaurant for a coffee. Something might happen in my absence. Now that I was not longer suspected of being a "bad guy", I appeared to have the run of the airport, even the secured areas, but I didn't abuse the privilege. I continued waiting.
 
At 11:00 Mr. Mabout arrived back. The security and immigration crew was still absent. At 12:00 I went up to the restaurant and had lunch. Once back down, I gave Moïse some money so he could have lunch and I continued waiting.
 
The Commissaire and crew filtered back in about 1:00. He noticed, me still sitting and waiting and indicated he wanted us cleared and gone, but the Premier Adjoint had locked out passports in his office, and he was the only one with a key. The Commissaire had him called, but the call went to the answering recording; one officer was keeping me informed of progress by now. People came and went to the Commissaire's office, he glanced at me each time he entered or exited his office.  He called the Premier Adjoint and apparently told him to hot-foot it to the airport.
 
The Premier Adjoint finally walked it around 2:00. He glanced around, not long at me, and unlocked his office, went in and closed the door. After a few minutes he came out and knocked on the door of the Commissaire. They invited me in to once again explain our situation. The Premier Adjoint explained how he had personally intervened to save us from being expelled, since only the Commissaire had the right to do so after an investigation (he was the hero), and in fact he would have been in sooner but he was so exhausted he had slept most of the day to recuperate.
 
When the Commissaire found out I was a pastor he said to the Premier Adjoint, "You're going to get me cursed by God for putting His servants through this." The Premier Adjoint reminded him how he had only acted in our best interest and had actually intervened on our behalf. I found out from someone present that he had actually said the day before as we waited "these people obviously have money in their pockets they must wait a while!" It was all a scam: the supposed visa fault, threatening to deport us, marching us around the airport, making us wait and sweat for hours; it was all to soften us up in order to lighten our wallets in return for ending our misery. In fact the Premier Adjoint had made us wait all day at the airport, knowing that only he could unlock our passports, so as to deal with us when his boss wasn't present, so he could extract the "tip" he was looking for, at least $100 at the going rates (I have been informed).
 
By the good graces of the Commissaire now though, the process was extradited, though we still had to pay the standard visa charge of 50,000 CFA Francs (about $125) per person for the privilege of entering the welcoming tourist-destination of Cameroon. At least Monsieur le Commissaire Premier Adjoint, didn't get his "tip." "Vengeance is mine" says the Lord.
 
I left the airport 7 ½ hours after I had arrived his morning. I regret I can show no photos of the scene but I never would have made it out if I'd tried to take photos.
 
We drove back to the hotel, very thankful to have fully legal passports. I picked up some things we needed and we drove to the asphalt soccer field where our campers had just started playing soccer. This is the national sport in Cameroon, and they were very excited to be playing. The "best of times" began. It was girls and staff men against the boys, and it was a pretty even match.

Football at camp 2!

God blessed us with blue skies and sunshine, warm but no rain during this rainy season.

Football at camp 1!

They played for 90 minutes with a water break and then Daniel and Cindy broke out the Frisbees. Everyone wanted to get involved. I was able to help with some demonstrations and drills as they prepare to play ultimate Frisbee on Sunday. These young people have never seen a frisbee so the technique took a few minutes to learn, but they had a great time and there was much laughter.
 
At 5:30 it was time to head back to the church hall in three cars; Mr. Mabout's and two taxis. At the hall we had our Friday evening Bible Study from about 6:00 to 7:00. I again spoke about why we have such camps. Around 7:00 we had dinner, and then 6 of us piled into Mr. Mabout Carola for the drive back to the hotel. There were the four visitors. Mr. Mabout and one other member who would accompany him back to the hall. It was late and he had to drive back through some bad neighborhoods. If he broke down alone and had to walk to get help, his car would never be seen again. Daniel and Cindy kindly agreed to sit together in the front passenger seat of the car, to make the drive possible. It was a longer drive than usual since we hit lots of traffic. It took us 1 hour 20 minutes to get back to the hotel where we were very happy to arrive!