Yaounde

 

I am already half way through my three week stay in Yaoundé. Time seems to be moving along quicker and quicker.

I arrived here last Sunday afternoon, an uneventful trip (in other words, perfect!), except for sweating out whether the Ministre de Sante official would accept a photocopy of my yellow fever vaccination document as proof of inoculation.  Ben (my son) said he told me I needed to carry the original, and on the flight from Nairobi I surely wish his words had made a bigger impression on me!  I honestly do not remember him saying that, and I found myself not sure they would let me into Cameroon. (I had not been that concerned – after all, I had to submit proof in order to even  get a visa -  until I overheard a woman in Nairobi say they have no heart, and easily turn you away at the airport if you cannot produce it.) The health officer is the first person to greet you when you get off the plane – before customs, before baggage check, before anything. And none of them smile or seem welcoming at all…  But she waived me through after checking my signatures (the vaccination document with my passport); and then I began to relax.  The SIL person was waiting for me outside the gate, holding up a sign with my name on it, and that was all the  welcoming words I needed...

Yaoundé is the capital, and I was told it would feel almost Western in comparison to Congo.  Well, almost… It certainly is more prosperous, but there is plenty of poverty, and the contrast between rich and poor seems greater, although not too many rich and very many poor.  But a few more folks in the middle I think, although my project here (a review of the accounting books) keeps me in an office all day and on a compound of sorts, interacting mostly with ex-pats, so I have not really done that much walking around.

Initially it seemed like I had been dropped into a modern place – cars, cars, many cars; car horns, car horns, many many car horns – even car alarms! I could hardly take in the bustle and activity at first. But the people are not as friendly, no one saying Bonjour as they pass by in the lyrical manor of the Congolese; they  just walk on and don’t take any notice of a ‘blanco’ walking by.  (Which is actually sort of nice.) The city is built on gently hilly terrain, picturesque when you look out over the city, as you can see by this picture taken from the SIL grounds. All the homes of any substance have walls and gates around them,

just like in Bunia, but it seems more open. I have seen Mercedes and other more upscale cars, something I never saw in Bunia, and they are not as beat up, probably because the roads are better. Main roads are paved, so not the clouds of dust either, which does make life more pleasant.  Street lights on main thoroughfares, we passed a bakery, and people were largely in Western dress, unheard of in Bunia.  (But hey, this was a French colony and the French do like their pâtisseries…)  I almost wondered if I was still in Africa.  Not that Yaoundé is probably that unusual - it speaks more to what Bunia does not

View looking out from the entrance of SIL

Nelson, Noah and Reda Anderton

have at all. They even have a grocery store not too far away from the SIL grounds, and I walked up there on my first Saturday here, and spent a pleasant hour walking the aisles to see an amazing array of products for sale. It was about the size of a very small Manhattan supermarket, but it still amazed me.  Still it was Africa, with so many different kinds of rice and tomato paste and mayonnaise for sale. But there was also chocolate on display, something I had not seen in 11 weeks.



Bob and Joan Lokker

I must be getting tired, for I kept forgetting to take my camera when I went anywhere this first week, so I have few pictures of Yaounde to post.  I went to a French church on Sunday, one I was told had a great choir, but I admit to feeling some disappointment.  The music was just fine, but after Congo, I am not sure any church singing  I hear will ever come close to the harmony and rhythm, enthusiasm and joy of Congolese singing. Last week, a missionary group here in Cameroon was holding their annual meeting at the place I am staying, and I was able to connect with two families I know.  Reda Anderton, a doctor, and her kids, who have stayed in my home in the States, and the Lokkers, the host family my son Ben stayed with for four months three years ago while he was in Cameroon. A small world, to meet these folks here in Cameroon.  I spent a wonderful first week here, connecting with them and exchanging news.

One more picture to share. One thing that is so striking about Africa is how little is wasted. Everything is used again and again until it just gives out. I was a bit startled in the grocery store, for example, to see used  liquor bottles (I mean bottles that at once held Johnnie Walker Red and Johnnie Walker Black Label) and used plastic water bottles, filled with shelled,  roasted peanuts for sale. (They eat a lot of peanuts here; peanuts are for sale everywhere.) So I thought with this picture you might better understand what I mean by recycle, and at the same time enjoy seeing this swing – made from an old truck tire.

PS. Yaoundé is 5 degrees above the equator, and about 2,000 feet above sea level. It is the coldest anyone around here much remembers, perhaps God's special gift to me.  It is in the low 70's each day - hard to believe that I went to Africa for the summer and missed almost all of the heat and humidity I would have surely experienced in the northern climes of New Jersey...