responsible irresponsibility: Ici 3 morts

So we’ve spent most of the day cleaning, after getting supplies from town. Some of which were a couple of outlets, lights, and switches which Jonas installed this afternoon. This compound, and several others, apparently, are served by a generator for several hours a day, and we’re hoping it’s enough to charge things when needed.

As previously stated we are in Kye ossi, which is on the southern border where Gabon and Guinea meet Cameroon. We could walk into Guinea w/in a few minutes (to the border crossing anyway, it’s to be seen what the actual process is), and Gabon is also just a few kilometers away. We are on the rough side of town; high unemployment, alcohol and drug addiction, prostitution, and other crimes. We are staying in a compound owned by a church, and I’m not sure what the surrounding resident’s situation is. There are ten of us plus a couple in one of the rooms sharing a well, a 4” hole in the floor for a toilet, and the shower; a small space with a 2” hole to the same pit where we take our buckets to splash clean. There is no kitchen, so meals will be prepped and eaten in a room which serves as a classroom. The place has been mostly unused for the last several years and wasn’t much to begin with. Like most African’s live, probably.

Yes, getting here was a 36 hour process: Up early in Garoua then a 4-1/2 bus ride on a 70 passenger bus. There were actually 70 seats and that’s what they sell tickets for, so except for the unpaid children, everyone had a seat. Everyone’s luggage also fits in the designated compartments or overhead racks, no rooftop luggage racks on the big bus. (Once again, Beth and I are over packed, but we didn’t carry near as much as most people. But, we’re not moving like most of them probably are, and we don’t need to carry all our worldly possessions.) The bus was not in great condition, and the road was a variety of potholed pavement, new construction, or a combination, but it was generally uneventful. There was quite a climb to Ngaoundere, and from there the climate and scenery has been significantly different.

After arriving N’ere, we had a six hour wait for the train’s departure. Rebecca and the rest of the team visited her father who suffered a heart attack and stroke two years ago, while Jonas and I waited for the train terminal to open so we could move the luggage inside. The train ride was 16 hours over night arriving Yaounde around 10:30 am. Beth and I rode a sleeper car, Jonas and Rebecca were in first class, and the boys rode in second class. We are the privileged, after all. Like the bus before it, the train was dirty and in rough condition, but it was interesting. Since there were only berths in our compartment we decided to sit in the ‘restaurant’ car for the first few hours. Problem here is most of the seats at the tables are sold as regular seats, and only a few were for the dining customers of the first class and sleeping car customers. Some interesting exchanges taking place there. Of course when we returned in the morning, all of those had sleeping passengers as well. Yaounde could be Douala, could be Kampala, could be Nairobe, could be any large African city that I can tell. Chaos.

The last leg was really the most interesting. First a taxi from the train station to a section of the city where all the bus operators are. Five of us, our luggage, and the driver in an old Toyota hatchback sedan. Five is okay most of the time, but for the last 100 yards Rebecca got to walk after paying the ‘surcharge’ for an overloaded vehicle. Then it was buy tickets and get loaded into the ’19 place’ van. Get in your seat early so you can have it when they actually depart. Which in this case was about 45 minutes later, because there were only 18 of us beside the driver, and they desperately wanted to sell that last ‘place’. (Though I still don’t know where it is.) Then to the gas station for just enough fuel to get to Kye ossi (never fill the tank), then back to the operation base because the driver realized he didn’t have money for tolls. Then get out of traffic and onto the highway south. Luckily we got around the accident between the full size bus and taxi before the traffic jam really got bad.

It wasn’t long before we hit the open road which was generally in pretty good shape and uncrowded. The driver seemed to want to make good time and the van had the power to do it because we passed several vehicles along the way and quite frequently exceeded 120 km/h. (That 60 km/h that’s painted on the back of all the taxi vans apparently is some sort of guideline, or is there to impress potential customers.) We probably would have made it in record time except those darn police check points along the way. Ten of them. They check everyone’s government issued ID card, or passport and there seems to be no logic to their location. Jonas had a document listing all of us, and our reason for travelling, but he had to explain himself and provide all of the ID’s each time, often having to “go inside’ for further explanation. There was also a DRC refugee on board who was questioned at each checkpoint except for the last one. That’s because he was detained at the one before, and by this time the driver was so frustrated he wouldn’t wait any more. Somehow the guy beat us to our final destination and was waiting to get his stuff off the top of the van when we arrived. It was hot and crowded and what was supposed to be a four hour ride turned into six. But we made it. These can be frustrating experiences, but as I sit there cramped and sweaty I remind myself that this is the way of life here. They put up with it every day, and I try to remind myself of it.

I made some vehicular observations that we selfish Americans should learn from:

Full sets of lugnuts are for aesthetic purposes only. If you should happen to have a full set, that means you’ve got at least one spare.

Matching tires are also just an aesthetic thing.

We replace our tires much too soon. Treads really aren’t important. I’ve seen racecars and they don’t run with them. In these hot temperatures, and under the loads they operate there’s plenty of traction.

Starters aren’t really necessary. There’s always enough manpower for a pushstart.

Seat belts should only be available to drivers. Because when a vehicle is correctly loaded people will act as human air bags or roll cages in an accident.

We’re so snotty.

(The title of this post translates as 'here 3 deaths'. Common roadside signs posted by the government to remind people to drive carefully.)