After a week of meetings, meals and general bonhomie in Yaoundé, it was time for the drive back to Douala. Mercifully, we didn’t fly and could experience the wonders of the rainforests and music all over again. As well as the increasingly oppressive security, with the elections less than a week away by now. However, our passports were with the driver, so the looks were more of curiosity at seeing South Africans driving hell for leather around the country than anything else.
We arrived in the early afternoon and were met in the foyer of our hotel (back at Akwa Palace) by Mama Denise, the local manager of the South African Airways office to ensure that we had our tickets for the flight – it was well before the Internet and the luxury of checking in that way were around – and that our luggage would be taken care of at the airport, so we could skip the queues and head for the bar on the other side. The flight was still three or four days away, but she was a gem, wanting us to feel reassured. It’s possible Eric, our host, had paid/strongarmed her into a little show so we could see he was an important man, but that mattered little at the time – we now knew we had legitimate, I think, visas and passports, as well as flights organised.
Mama Denise was a charming lady once we got chatting, and invited us to her home for dinner that evening – a wonderful gesture, although complicated by having our bloody minders around us all the time. With nothing to do, I persuaded Eric to take us to a local market so I could buy some tapes of Manu Dibango and other artists we’d listened to whilst driving around, as well as local chocolate, raw cashew nuts, dried plantains and the other things not accessible in South Africa. Apart from the Dibango tapes, I settled for a few ‘greatest hits’ type compilations of some of the artists to be found on this lovely tribute.
The market was an assault on the senses in every way for this raw traveller – it was by turns blisteringly hot and dusty, chucking it down with hot tropical rain, and sullenly humid. Perfect for a few 33 Exports and spicy goat skewers, then. An absolute kaleidoscope of colour – bright, unabashed and vibrant – underpinned it all, but at the same time, looking with less of a touristy naivete, the lack of proper running water at the food stalls, the piles of plastic and other garbage and the lingering smells of lack of proper infrastructure told its own story of poverty and the daily grind to simply put food on tables, roofs over heads and clothes on bodies: no luxuries for the bulk of people here, just the hustle of survival from day to day, whatever your age or gender.
We got back to the hotel in the early evening, with my head still spinning from the afternoon, a million thoughts about the potential of the country, the people, the culture, the abominable political class and everything in between, to be greeted by Mama Denise, loudly telling us, with a wink unseen by the security mob, that she had reserved a table for us at the hotel restaurant for 8pm. We should all meet in the foyer at that time. Privately, she told us to be there at 7pm to evade our detail.
7pm arrived and I sauntered as casually as possible into the foyer, scanning for the security, who mercifully weren’t around. Mama Denise met us and quickly escorted me and two companions into her slightly battered Renault and we sped off into the looming evening. She drove as fast as one can through a city of faltering lights, water-covered potholes and chaotic traffic and we arrived at her home about an hour later. I have no idea where in Douala it is, or even which direction we drove in.
It was fairly modest by the standards of someone who grew up in a privileged environment in South Africa, but warm and friendly with wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. Mama Denise put on a fantastic spread for us with all the favourites I’d been enjoying over the last week on display and much, much more. Her husband and children joined us and we swapped stories and experiences way into the night, before being driven back to the hotel. What a stunning evening, with a charming family, excellent food and music, and truly enriching conversation. A perfect evening! Except for the stony-faced minders waiting at the entrance, with a sheepish Eric in tow. Mama Denise stood her ground as they aggressively demanded to know where we’d been, finishing the conversation with the most gallic of shrugs and a dismissive wave of the hand as she sped off again. Eric was angry and told us in very direct terms to not do that again. Minders pacified, we went to bed.
The following couple of days followed a similar routine as in Yaoundé, with meetings, lunches and political grandstanding. It was our final night and I was fairly exhausted from the trip, which was something I wasn’t used to. One last dinner, I thought. Fuck, wonder if I can make an excuse? But no, I tagged along to a restaurant with a karaoke bar Eric wanted us to try.
Pretty rustic, wooden tables, plastic chairs, low lighting and very basic toilet facilities (for which he kept apologising, as if it was his fault). A tropical downpour ensured we were there for the evening, with large bottles of 33 Export needing to be consumed quickly to stop them from getting warm in the tropical heat. Heaven.
A skinny, lanky and impossibly dark-skinned guy got onto the stage and introduced himself as the karaoke compere. He then played a Sinatra track as I had my back to the stage, chatting to one of our local business partners who had joined us. Problem was, Sinatra had a very Francophone accent every now and then. I looked back and saw this incredible sound coming out of this most unlikely of singers – he was pitch perfect and loving it, as were we all! A few songs in and Eric joined him on stage (again, being Cameroon, it’s quite possible this was, well, staged, for a few dollars, but hey-ho) and they sang together: Dibi Dibi Rek, a song that Ismaël Lô had released a few years before. Eric could hold a tune, for sure, but not like this kid! But the best part was watching a Cameroonian version of Laurel and Hardy belting out tunes in perfect harmony. Dinner, sublime. West Coast sole, spicy rice and plantains. Heaven.
Waking up the next morning, our last in Cameroon, I wandered down to breakfast with a sore head, but fantastic memories. We went through the motions of eating, checking out and heading to airport, me trying to absorb as much as possible still and enjoy the ambiance, Rob and Felix from Gabon complaining about everything, including Eric our fabulous host, and Nomsa from the Tourism Council, who had joined us again after not bothering for a week, dismissive of ‘dirty Africa’ and hankering after Paris.
We checked in, said our goodbyes – mine fond and lasting for years – the others perfunctory and box-ticking, and headed to the airport bar. Had a few more beers, a couple of glasses of wine, chatted briefly to a few guys I didn’t know and got on the plane back to Joburg via Kinshasa and Harare again. It was an uneventful flight, almost too calm after the last couple of weeks, but allowed time for reflection on what a magnificent place Africa is. A rollercoaster couple of weeks that instilled a love and respect for the continent that will always be in my DNA.
Postscript: Eric and I stayed in touch for years after that trip and I saw him a couple more times on trips to Cameroon, but he then moved to Europe, and I think, the States. Mama Denise retired from SAA a few years later and I never got to meet her again. Nomsa is probably in Paris telling people how dirty Africa is and that she went to a swanky school in Paris, whilst Rob and Felix got hold of me a few times asking for favours through my work, but I told them to do one.
Wanderings by Deebee7
Onna telly this week
Friday 14th October
| Ospreys v Stormers | 19:35 | BBC2 Wales / Premier Sports 2 |
| Connacht v Leinster | 19:35 | RTÉ2 / Premier Sports 1 |
| Sale v London Irish | 19:45 | BT Sport 1 |
Saturday 15th October
| Scotland v Australia (women) | 03:00 | ITV |
| USA v Japan (women) | 05:30 | ITV |
| France v England (women) | 08:00 | ITV |
| Lions v Ulster | 13:00 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Gloucester v Bristol | 15:00 | BT Sport 2 |
| Sharks v Glasgow | 15:05 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Edinburgh v Treviso | 17:15 | Premier Sports 1 |
| Cardiff v Dragons | 17:15 | Premier Sports 2 |
| Munster v Bulls | 19:35 | TG4 / Premier Sports 1 |
| Scarlets v Zebre | 19:35 | S4C / Premier Sports 2 |
Sunday 16th October
| Italy v Canada (women) | 00:45 | ITV |
| Wales v New Zealand (women) | 03:15 | ITV |
| Fiji v South Africa (women) | 05:45 | ITV |
| Harlequins v Leicester | 15:00 | BT Sport 1 |
Monday 17th October
| Saracens v London Irish | 19:45 | BT Sport 1 |
Ovally Balls 
Apparently they have a live webcam on a lettuce to see if Truss lasts longer than the lettuce.
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Noel, the Geordie, used to say things like, “Huw ya hamma owa hea himme”
pass me the hammer, mate
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Privately educated Geordies have the best accent. Posh, but…
Have to say this is pure snobbery from me.
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One of my best mates from work is a Geordie. He once got a new kitchen because his manager implied that, being a Geordie, he likes fighting.
That was the second room he refitted using the Barclays grievance process.
The first was another pouring a glass of red wine over his head and pinching his nipples on a night out.
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* another manager
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@craigs
I could listen to Dominic Cummings all day long.
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Looks weak. That said, I hope Wales get a clean sweep of wins this autumn!
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Is AWJ going to make it to World Cup next year? He must be pushing 40 by now?
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Think he said he’d retire after the WC.
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Strong possibility he won’t be first choice though bound to make the squad if he doesn’t get injured.
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CMW – big if.
I don’t think Wales have a chance without him. It’s not so much whether he’s playing – although he is a great when er not injured – but his presence on the team seems to spark some extras.
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He must be pushing 40 by now
Poor Geoff Parling getting shit for his weak shoulders back in the day and no one picks up on this.
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Geoff Parling had nothing on Jeff Wode.
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This is amazing
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@craigs
Good to see it’s a parody. Original here:
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Main talking points-
No Finn, dropped.
Hogg loses captaincy to Jamie Ritchie, that was only a matter of time.
We’ll have either a very inexperienced Ollie Smith (1 cap) or a winger playing fullback against Oz as it’s outside the window
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Oh and one more, Jack Dempsey is in, his first Scotland cap will be against the team he was last capped for.
Thems the roolz
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OT – yeah I hadn’t seen the original but it is funny.
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I’ll have to have a look at those vids in a bit.
Have heard from TomP. He is fine – just been doing more interesting things in Real Life! Says he’ll pop in soon.
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Isn’t everyone sooooo happy we never got “chaos with Ed Miliband”?
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Krishnam G-M has one-upped Nick Robinson
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Refit -ha, one is a lot bigger than the other.
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Also, there’s nothing like keeping the name in the family. Simplifies the paperwork.
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To be fair Thaum, ‘Davies’ is like 40% of Wales.
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So Braverman’s gone (the most racist Home Secretary since the last one), replaced by the many faces of Grant Schaaps. Chaos in the lobbies tonight – bullying, shouting, nobody knows what’s happening (like being in school). Truss voting, wait she didn’t vote, wait, she abstained, wait, she was sacking the whips, wait, no she didn’t.
I’ll have my Scottish Independence now thank you.
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I doubt Truss will last the day!
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Refit – I know; my Welsh granny was a Davies.
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Most common surname in Wales, Davies, as everybody knows.
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Going back to AWJ of the less common surname (ahem) I guess the thing is that Rowlands was probably Wales’ best forward last season, great things seem to be expected of Tshiunza and Beard is very useful in the mauls. So with a very fair wind on the injury front for everyone else it’s possible to imagine AWJ not making a Wales team for the first time in ages (15 years? more?). He doesn’t seem to always make the huge difference to a team that he used to these days, but he did put a big shift in against the Stormers last week and I guess we’ll see how close he is to his best when the time comes.
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We know that Phil is nimble so can’t be a giant. Jiffy must have shrunk.
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So, correct me if I’m wrong here, but last night was originally a confidence motion on the government which was whipped to ensure a victory.
Someone stood up in the commons and said it was not a confidence vote, which caused the chief whip and deputy chief whip to resign.
MPs were bullied and harassed into the division lobby of the government’s choice, making MPs vote against the wishes of their constituents.
When the vote was “won”, it was then spun as a confidence motion and the Chief Whip and Deputy were back in post (presumably strong-armed back in)
Only now, this morning, it wasn’t a confidence vote, again.
I wonder what it will have been by lunchtime?
Armando Iannucci would never have gotten the script of the last month and half past the producers; it would be just too unbelievable.
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That’s a bigger couch than you think, Jiffy is far away, like Dougal and the cows in Father Ted.
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@Ticht – I think somewhere along the line the PM managed not to vote for it herself!
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To be fair to Jiffy he’s far away like the cows rather than Dougal in this instance. As for Ticht…
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For those interested in the nature of any great dane-chihuahua type carry on it seems to be Phil that is married to Jiffy’s sister.
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Not sure which of the great Welsh surnames can put out the best all time team. On some level it must be a numbers game and the Joneses presumably have the most complete side, but there is reason to think that both Davies and Williams (near enough level in numbers in second and third) have more flair. There are probably at least another couple that could field competitive teams with any surname from any other country. Some also benefit from ‘overseas’ qualifiers of course.
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Tiny Welsh mams with enormous rugby playing sons is not an unheard of phenomenon. I’ve always assumed that Mrs Quinnell is about four foot six.
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“Tiny Welsh mams with enormous rugby playing sons is not an unheard of phenomenon. I’ve always assumed that Mrs Quinnell is about four foot six.”
You imagine the Christmas dinners round their house must have been quite something when the boys were growing teenagers
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growing teenagers as in teenagers that were growing, not growing them in pots
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This is rather nice, the story of Derek Quinell’s first cap.
I remember him as a terrific player, I was too young to have seen Barry John, but I remember seeing Merve the Swerve on telly
https://www.wru.wales/report/quinnell-makes-dramatic-entrance-for-wales/#report
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Quinnell will be very serious about his feeling at the time that if he didn’t get on the pitch he might never get a cap. Two of his Llanelli teammates who were with him on the bench are probably the best illustrations of this. Chico Hopkins already had his one cap as a replacement that he didn’t add to as Gareth Edwards never got injured again. And Shunto never got a cap (at least at the time, think he might have got a retrospective one when the status of a game was changed many years later) as when he looked like he might get to be Wales hooker Bobby Windsor appeared and also never missed a match.
Shunto is almost the star of that documentary about Llanelli beating the all blacks as he’s very eccentric and entertaining. He can’t quite edge out (I’ll have said before) the woman who when it’s revealed to her that she wasn’t actually at the game says “I’m proud that I thought I was there!”
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The lettuce wins!
Truss resigned. A bloody good riddance as well.
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U turn on fighting/quitting. The situation remains utterly pathetic.
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I guess we’ll get one of the arseholes that want the job now rather than one that wants to wait for next time.
She’s still the leader, but couldn’t be arsed to explain what the process is for replacing her – it must be about to change from last time.
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BBC said it would be down to Tory MPs only.
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BB – check out the cam :-D
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@Thaum – “BBC said it would be down to Tory MPs only.”
Don’t think they’ve said how they know that other than an assumption based on the timescale. Truss certainly didn’t tell us though it must have been decided.
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