We travel into the West region. The square sliced white bread in the anglophone Southwest region is displaced by French style baguettes. The rolling hills, the pyramidal rooftops peak out of dense tree groves--a hallmark of Bamileke architecture.
A recently upturned oil tanker sits in the ditch. Another truck’s cab is crushed. The survival of the two drivers is unlikely. I am astonished by the number of accidents we see--4 in one day. But then I should not be surprised--anarchy rules on the roads.
I overhear M. Lobe’s conversation with his wife, “I will return no later than Tuesday.”
I do not understand. The earliest would be Wednesday. He explains, the other 2 Camerounais nodding in agreement. They tell their wives they are coming home before they really return.
“Won’t they worry?”
“No, this way the place will be ready for the return and the wife will not be running around trying to get things done before the return.” One does not enter quietly. A lot of noise is made at the gate. This is to avoid confronting anything (or anyone) that might cause problems...
No comments:
Post a Comment