17/8/2013

The  day starts early at 7 for a trip to Bamenda, the capital of the North West region. We go with the motorbike, it was my choice and I soon start regretting: Every hole in the street reverberates through all the vertebra of my spine, although I start pushing all my weight up holding my hands onto the frame of the motorbike’s back side. I try hard to focus on the stunning nature and the continously changing 360 degree view on the passing by mountains and waterfalls, all coloured in blue with a layer of fog hiding parts of the landscape.

The arriving to Bamenda is never ending – on every corner of the street I hope we’ve finally made it, but our bumpy road continues in the middle of taxi’s, buses and people walking with their goods on their head and backs.

The trip to heaven of consumption finally becomes more of a trip to hell for me: When getting of the motorbike I can’t actually believe I am still complete and have to get used to walking on the ground as if I hadn’t been doing so for a long time. With a hurting back I try to get money from the ATM, but my VISA doesn’t work for some reason. I try to develop two films, but the more precious one to me gets spoiled because they didn’t realize it was a black and white film (and I forgot to mention it, also) and destroy it with the wrong chemicals. The other one gets printed eventually, but as I see the pictures I get a shock: They are all printed in shiny bright colours surrounded with a nice frame of cheesy flowers. I pay the money and try not to be attached of that possibly best photo I have shot in my life of an old man standing in front of his nephew, with that nice contrast of the handicapped and elegant man dressed in black being sharp in the foreground and his little nephew wearing bright clothes, blurred and melting into the background of the picture...

I surrender to the situation, and walk off with my eyes down on the ground... I get drawn into the supermarket next door (it doesn’t feel like my decision) and spend half a lifetime inside. I can’t manage to decide amongst the quantity of things offered to me. They are just the same as in Europe: I first think I am dreaming but there are huge pots of nutella, olives, a unreasonable variety of soaps and shower gels and...yes, milk. I haven’t seen milk since I am here. I grab it, and buy some chocolate, guava juice and coffee with it...all things we can’t get in Belo. But I don’t feel like I have bought something necessary for my life. I am still wondering why I had to buy these things that are obviously not produced locally but shipped in from China, Brasil or wherever. Just the coffee is Cameroonian (and I actually wonder why it is so difficult to get if it is cultivated just next to our house).

Loaded with a full and heavy bag, I take the next taxi back and can’t even bother anymore about the fact that my legs are squeezed as I am sitting in front with the driver and two more men (together we are 8 people in the taxi) After some bends I fall semi-asleep and just wake up with a little shock of someone actually touching my legs. But it’s just the driver, and he has to do so in order to move the gear upwards. I acknowledge and fall asleep again. I pay probably more than the others but being safe back home and finding a plate of beans and potatoes on the table is now the most consoling thing.

Being at home makes me feel more relaxed than usual, and I realize I really prefer these moments being alone than having to be around with people I didn’t choose to spend my time with... Later in the afternoon some kids come around and I start drumming with a boy. Although he doesn’t seem to have experience drumming we very soon find a common rhythm and even create different layers to it. This lasts in a few minutes, until he ask me if I have music he can listen to. I ask him what kind of music he likes and he says: Let me listen to anything. Just start with the first song you have. The first song was a Klezmer piece by Amsterdam Klezmer Band and he seems to enjoy it. Afterwards comes Arvo Paert. He is still listening to it, and doesn’t seem to get tired of it.

18/8/2013

Sunday starts with a good shower (it will probably be the last one for a few days because I can see the water coming out of the tub getting towards the end. I spend the morning washing my clothes with the collected rain water of the last days, taking a walk in the sun... I make a new friend, Pamela. I greet her and realize she is holding in her arms the baby that is the youngest orphan supported by RUDEC, my organization here. Her name is Princess Martha, she is 4 months old and very awake for her age. As soon as she sees me (it’s the first time we meet personally) she smiles at me and holds her little arms towards me. Pamela, who is a neighbour of Martha’s caremother, gives me the baby and I carry her around the compound for a while. After a few minutes I realize she fell asleep and bring her to her caremother. I stay with Pamela for a while and we exchange some interesting viewpoints. I tell her I like her house more than the one I am staying in (hers is colourful and shady, with many trees and flowers around, chicken picking corn, children playing around...). She laughs at me and doesn’t believe I am serious about it. We agree to exchange homes for one day. Than she asks if I would like to work on the farm as she does. I say I would love to. She laughs again and invites me to come one day for planting beans and corn. She tells me she is a mother of 5 boys (three are hers, two are the sons of the ex-wife of her husband who died time ago) and she shoes some handcrafts she makes in her house: collars, bracelets and bags made out of colourful beads. She says she is sorry not to offer me anything, but I just like her natural way of showing me around and being surprised by my eager to work with my hands.

On the way back home I buy some avocadoes, tomatoes and eggs for breakfast, happy about the new friend I found this morning. After a rich breakfast (coffee with milk has never tasted so rich and creamy to me before) I go for a walk again, the sun is surprisingly still shining for a long time, and I go to the riverside. I make my way through a cornfield and through a jungle of bananas and many other thick and dense, green plants. I arrive to a impressive waterfall, and sit down next to it covered with plants in a shady, refreshing place. I discover some plants that I haven’t seen here before, probably because they prefer the wet soil next to the river... amongst them a carnivorous plant that looks like a fir cone of which thick purple and yellow flowers are springing out.

Later on I reach a place of the river where I can sit with my legs in the water. I sit there for a long time, meditating over my life, putting together puzzle pieces of past and future. I feel like getting inside the water entirely. I don’t want anyone to see me because this is probably something no one would do here, but the place is well hidden from the next road. The little waterfalls make it as a very effective massage for my back. This is another beautiful day in Belo, with the time I really start enjoying my self discovering those hidden places on my own...