Travel to Cameroon

Today was a travel day. I got up at a little after 4 am, checked luggage and papers and so on, and left on the taxi that was waiting for me at 5:15. Chez Lando is quite close to the airport, only a fifteen minute drive, which is convenient, and a saftey factor in case of civil unrest. Check-in and passport control went smoothly. The run rose on a clear day as I sat in the departure lounge and read until departure. As we pulled our carryon baggage across the tarmac to the plane, stopping to point out our suitcases in the line of luggage waiting to be identified by the plane, I felt again how mornings on the plateaus of East Africa are wonderfully chilly and crisp. Breathing the cool air, one feels very alive and alert to the world.

The view from my room

The ninety minute flight to Nairobi went smoothly. After a four-hour layover in Nairobi,I boarded the Kenya Airways flight to Douala, which takes about four hours. Stepping from the plane it was obvious I was not longer in the climate of Nairobi. Cameroon is always some combination of either hot and humid or hotter and more humid. The rainy season is starting now so, it's only hot, but very humid.

The health desk official checked my yellow fever vaccination card, as usual. Leaving the immigration desk after having my visa checked and passport stamped, I came to a fellow lounging at the door leading to baggage claim. He was wearing grubby jeans and a tattered shirt. "Passport!" he demanded. I asked him politely in French "who are you to need to see my passport?" He replied "I'm police." I asked him how I could know that. He fished a folded pink ID card from his shirt pocket. I said "merci" I handed over my passport. He was visibly angry, so I tried to explain "In my country immigration police wear uniforms or show ID before asking to see papers." He looked me in the eye and said "If you believe that you are ignorant, your American police don't wear uniforms, and they are the ones who have trained us!" I smiled and asked "you will lecture me about a country to which you have never been and where I live?" He didn't answer and handed my passport back. To me that episode illustrated a kind of hard, aggressive edge that is found in many aspect of life in Cameroon. The national attitude always seems to border on outrage about some perceived slight. Not everyone has that attitude, but many do, especially, in my experience, officials.

I noticed they had replaced the two old baggage carousels with new ones since my last visit. That change was long overdue. The flight from Nairobi arrived at the same time as an Ethiopian flight from Addis Ababa. In a typical bit of organization, the baggage was not sorted by flight, luggage from both planes came up on both carousels. I found a spot between the two to keep an on both sides. It took nearly an hour for my suitcase to arrive; I had already begun thinking of contingency plans if my suitcase didn't arrive, so I was relieved when it did.

The Mabouts were waiting for me outside. Mr. Mabout has managed to purchase a fifteen year-old Toyota Carolla with 400,000 kms (250,000 miles) on it. Few people can afford their own car, but Mr. Mabout is a hard-working entrepreneurial type, and does well for his family. Mrs. Mabout had a two year-old girl with her, named Madeleine Siphora, nicknamed "Princess". The Mabouts had just adopted her. She was related to them in some way they didn't clarify, and the girl's mother had died, then the grandmother who had taken her in died as well. They've already taken in another orphan whose mother died of AIDS shortly after she became a member of the Church. So they have four children at home now, none of which are their's by birth. I think it's quite a generous and selfless attitude.