Rewind to January 2, 2005
["The vacation, however, was awesome." I don't write this without some degree of irony. Disclaimer: what follows is unedited — perhaps even stream-of-consciousness — and features both harsh language and uncomfortable content related to a possibly fatal automobile accident.]
Back in Yaoundé, although I should be en route to post. My parents were here for Christmas, which was awesome (we were in Ndélélé), despite having a horrific time being out there. Which is why I'm in Yaoundé, to explain two frantic phone calls to Peace Corps. Let's just say mom and dad got the full Cameroonian experience, more than their money's worth. It wouldn't be fair to continue without giving you the whole lowdown. So here goes.
When ma and pa binder decided they wanted to come to Cameroon, they found a guy in wisconsin who organizes "non-traditional" tours of africa. Cool, because it entailed a guide to accompany us the entire trip and a driver with a landcruiser. I obviously didn't feel like leading them around on public transportation. The first week went great: Bamenda, Bafut, Foumban, Bandjoun, Yaoundé, Maroua, Waza, Rhumsiki. And we actually took Camair with success!
Then came the trip east. We left Yaoundé early in the morning because I thought it was feasible to arrive in Ndélélé the same day. First bad sign: early morning fog, couldn't see 100 yards ahead. It lifted, but then we hit the dust. About 50km out of Ayos, I'm dozing off when simultaneously 1) the landcruiser starts fishtailing and we go careening in the left-hand side ditch and 2) the right rear wheel flies off the car. The driver instincively steers to the right, so we sail across the road into the right-hand side ditch and land shocked but without injury. While all this was happening, we noticed a small child running on the left side of the road, and the first thing my mom says is, "What happened to the kid?" By now villagers are crowding around our crippled vehicle. One of them pulls the unconscious child from the ditch. A passing car is stopped, the child is put inside with a villager and our guide passes him a handful of money to take care of the hospital fees. The driver hops on a moto to go fetch the gendarmes.
Now I'm standing at the side of the road thinking "What the fuck am I doing here?" and more importantly "What the fuck am I doing here with my parents?" They seem fine, albeit a little disoriented and confused. Everyone is speaking French around them (thank God, given what they were saying... "who killed my son?""I want my child!""We will burn your car!!") and our guide is frantically trying to calm them down. Next thing, the gendarmes show up with the driver in their extended-cab pick-up. The first thing they do is scare away the villagers ("What do you think you're doing? Get away from here, it's an accident scene, you don't belong here!!") and whisk me an my parents into the back of the truck. Then they carry out their investigation (tape measures, angles, all with the usual Cameroonian light-hearted joking-about-bullshit) while people are eyeing us in the car. The guide tells me that no matter what happens, I should insist to the gendarmes they he stays with us. They transfer our baggage into the back of the pick-up truck.
At this point, the guy who went with the kid comes back only to announce "the little girl is dead."
Now I felt like puking. I can only imagine what would have happened if the gendarmes had arrived AFTER that message was delivered.... So they take us to the gendarme station, where MTN, the cell phone network, works. Thus begin the calls to Peace Corps. Ruth (the security offier), Kim (admin on-call), Robert (the Country Director). Robert's asking me how much money I have on me - to make sure I can bribe them if I need to - then telling me he's sending the duty driver with Ruth and the Embassy security person. We'll have to come back to Yaoundé. The gendarmes are all being surprisingly nice (one used to be posted in Ndélélé, and he's shooting the shit with me). My parents and I discuss the accident and decide it must have been the fucking wheel that flew off the car and hit the kid. But no one is even talking to us except Peace Corps, and they're telling me not to get arrested. I assume the guide was carefully explaining everything and (of course) offering a little monetoary "motivation."
Eventually, we're given our IDs and told we can go, so the gendarmes take us to abong-mbang. Robert calls off the duty car and from there the trip goes better. We rent out bush taxis to take us to Bertoua, the next day to Ndélélé. X-mas in village, lots of nice people, a bamileke baptism party, and a sunday afternoon at the bar. Pretty much the only day mom and dad didn't spend on the road. But here comes the trip out. The guide has sent for a car to pick us up, but it turns out to be a Corolla station wagon which can barely clear the gendarme speed bumps. Great. We have a flat tire before batouri, get to bertoua at a decent hour to feast on ham and cheese while the car's alignment is checked. Back on the road. After the next pit-stop, we climb back in the car and it doesn't start. We're stranded in abong-mbang (again), but press on to Yaoundé despite my better judgment.
Finally we hit pavement at Ayos and speed up. At the last gendarme stop before central Yaoundé, we're stopped and asked for our IDs yellow WHO cards. (Bad news, remember it's between Christmas and new years, when the gendarms assume people have money and also need money for their own holiday purposes...) The guide makes an ill-considered comment about how they don't need to see our WHO cards and the gendarmes lose their shit. They're also drunk. More calls to Peace Corps. (In hindsight, I should have called another volunteer and just talked about anything in English, it would have had the same effect.) After threatening to arrest our guide and take me in as well, they all of a sudden give us back our IDs and tell us to go.
Back at the hotel, I just say "I need a beer." Mom and Dad laugh about the ride (14 hours from Ndélélé to Yaoundé) and surprisingly they don't hate me, which I think is good. But goddamn, it was the worst time of my life. Perhaps I should dwell on the positive aspects of the holiday, but it's the same old thing (Waza, lots of animals, good hotel food, gained some weight, blah blah blah). I only hope I've fulfilled my quota for Cameroonian accidents/asshole gendarme harassment.