Despite its financial crisis, the whole of the council went to Yagoua, capital of the district which includes Maga, to march in the Mayday parade. I went with them, decked out in Cameroonian dress. Transport was in the back of a truck but after I had climbed into it, hitting my head off an iron bar in the process, the mayor fished me out and told me I was to go in his 4X4. He did not come with us since his mother had died and he was in mourning. Even in the 4X4 it was an arduous journey. I am repeatedly surprised by roads even worse than those I have been on. To make matters worse, there had been rain earlier which turned the road into mud, and at times the 4X4 skated all over the road which had a significant drop on each side.
The 80 kilometer journey was interesting since it followed the Logone south for most of the way (in the northerly direction the road goes around 200 kilometers to Kousseri, which is across the river from Njamena, the capital of Chad). There was good vegetation, due to the river, and the recent rains had begun to produce some patches of green. There were places where we could see people wading back and forth between Chad and Cameroon. A friend told me that she was washing clothes in the Logone one day and a man whom she knew waded across from Chad. He was well dressed but just waded to whatever depth was necessary. When he saw her he borrowed her soap and soaped both himself and his clothes, remaining fully clothed. He then rinsed off and continued on his way, letting the sun dry him.
Yagoua turned out to be quite a nice town with lovely trees and some small hills (a rarity in the flat Logone plain). Before the parade started there was some entertainment. At one stage a senior council official with whom I have a lot of dealings took me by the hand to see some traditional dancers. He pulled me through the crowd towards the front and continued to hold my hand as we watched. Homosexual acts are illegal in Cameroon but it is quite common for men to hold hands. Despite this, I felt ill at ease and in order to disengage I decided to take a photo. After taking the photo I was slow to put my hand back down since I was afraid that he would grab it again. When I finally put my hand down I found that my wallet was gone. In addition to my money and my bank cards (with which I had completely failed to access money in Cameroon) it contained an identity card which I had been issued after arrival. Being without this card is a serious matter since it creates circumstances in which policemen look for significant bribes. Another member of the Maga party who was watching the dancers had his mobile phone stolen.
We went to the local police station and reported the theft. They told me that my wallet would probably turn up but without my money. Cameroon has a benevolent type of pick-pocket who, provided that the wallet contains enough money, actually throws the wallet through the window of the police station at night. I got a phone call from the Yagoua police to-day to say that this has duly happened and that the wallet contains my indentity card.
The parade, when it finally took place, was a farce. We marched no more than 300 metres in the space of a few minutes. However a few of us piled into the 4X4 and joined a cavalcade of similar vehicles which formed a sort of secondary parade around the streets of Yagoua, much to the glee of the local children.
As usual, I was one of a privileged few who were invited to lunch by a local person who turned out to be a most agreeable and thoughtful host. He was very interested in where I was from and produced an atlas so that I could show him where Ireland is and what countries I had flown over when going to Cameroon.
The 80 kilometer journey was interesting since it followed the Logone south for most of the way (in the northerly direction the road goes around 200 kilometers to Kousseri, which is across the river from Njamena, the capital of Chad). There was good vegetation, due to the river, and the recent rains had begun to produce some patches of green. There were places where we could see people wading back and forth between Chad and Cameroon. A friend told me that she was washing clothes in the Logone one day and a man whom she knew waded across from Chad. He was well dressed but just waded to whatever depth was necessary. When he saw her he borrowed her soap and soaped both himself and his clothes, remaining fully clothed. He then rinsed off and continued on his way, letting the sun dry him.
Yagoua turned out to be quite a nice town with lovely trees and some small hills (a rarity in the flat Logone plain). Before the parade started there was some entertainment. At one stage a senior council official with whom I have a lot of dealings took me by the hand to see some traditional dancers. He pulled me through the crowd towards the front and continued to hold my hand as we watched. Homosexual acts are illegal in Cameroon but it is quite common for men to hold hands. Despite this, I felt ill at ease and in order to disengage I decided to take a photo. After taking the photo I was slow to put my hand back down since I was afraid that he would grab it again. When I finally put my hand down I found that my wallet was gone. In addition to my money and my bank cards (with which I had completely failed to access money in Cameroon) it contained an identity card which I had been issued after arrival. Being without this card is a serious matter since it creates circumstances in which policemen look for significant bribes. Another member of the Maga party who was watching the dancers had his mobile phone stolen.
We went to the local police station and reported the theft. They told me that my wallet would probably turn up but without my money. Cameroon has a benevolent type of pick-pocket who, provided that the wallet contains enough money, actually throws the wallet through the window of the police station at night. I got a phone call from the Yagoua police to-day to say that this has duly happened and that the wallet contains my indentity card.
The parade, when it finally took place, was a farce. We marched no more than 300 metres in the space of a few minutes. However a few of us piled into the 4X4 and joined a cavalcade of similar vehicles which formed a sort of secondary parade around the streets of Yagoua, much to the glee of the local children.
As usual, I was one of a privileged few who were invited to lunch by a local person who turned out to be a most agreeable and thoughtful host. He was very interested in where I was from and produced an atlas so that I could show him where Ireland is and what countries I had flown over when going to Cameroon.
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