First Class in a bucket

Well things must’ve been going our way today. We were treated very well by the spirits pf Cameroon. It all started when we arrived at the gare to find a car to Bafoussam. As soon as the taxi dropped us at the gas station, Akilah made eye contact with a driver making a u-turn. There must’ve been quite a few opportunistic folks around, because as soon as he stopped, they swung his door open for us and began the chargeur chant of “Bafoussam?”

We immediately entered the car, more so because the drive wore a suit than because of their chanting; they’ll say any thing to get a few hundred francs. We got into the rear, because as we woul find out in a few moments, he was picking up two other passengers. When we stopped to get them Akilah noticed one of her 6eM students bidding the two women adieu. They must’ve been relatives.

On the way to get them, the gentlman commented that those guys must be crazy (“Il sont fools!”) if they thought he would pay them for doing nothing, and I don’t blame him. Didn’t matter; none of it did, all we knew was that we were about to take a private car to Bafoussam. A private car! This has truly been my most comfortable ride. We arrived in Bafoussam in what must’ve been record time; somewhere in the neighborhood of forty-five minutes.

Since we were back on schedule, we figured we’d make it to the agency in no time. After a quick stop at the Bafferie II, we headed straight for Binam. It still amazes me how there’s always a gang of chargeurs running to the taxi door as soon as you pull up. Don’t they realize that by the time you’ve arrived your mind is most likely made up, as to which agency you’re going to take?

After buying our tickets we had a quick drink at the bar in the Binam lot. I had to chuckle when I walked in and saw Linda Tripp talking with Larry King on CNN. That’s just not what I expected to see on the tube. When will folks realize that no amount of “Clintonesque” discussions is going to do any harm to the man’s reputation; or any to his administration, for that matter.

The ride to Yaoundé was fairly comfortable. If I remember correctly, we were not stopped once. We chose halfway decent seats so I was content with the four-hour journey. When we arrive in Yaoundé, we grab a taxi and go right to Camrail. At the first class ticket window we inquire about reserving a two-person guichette.

The woman looks at us as if we’re crazy trying to get one. She tells Akilah they’re sold out for today. Cool, we were expecting to travel tomorrow anyway. According to this woman, two person guichettes were booked until Tuesday.

Gees! When asked about the four person cabins she gave some half-cocked answer, then asked for our identification. Since we were foreigners she said she would do what she could for us. Little did we know that meant a one and a half hour wait, and unknowingly participating in the informal economy.

She asked for 36000 CFAs and told us to have a seat, she would call us. After a while we just took it upon ourselves to see what was going on. She managed to get us two bunks in a four-person cabin. How? She even had the nerve to give the impression that she had to fight for our spaces.

Now we watched the window the entire time. It really didn’t look like anyone put up a fuss about us. Though I did notice her refer to us once when talking to someone at the window.

Whatever happened, we didn’t want to know. Just knowing we “unknowingly” bribed someone was enough. We wanted to get a quick bite before boarding. We took a trip across the street to see if the boulangerie had anything good.

We picked up a few beignets, and a bottle of the coldest <I>Tangui</i> since I’ve been here. After making our rounds on this block, we decided to head back to the area across from the station. There were sure to be places for food there.

Now I consider myself a pretty open-minded person. However, there are still some things I cannot get used to. One such thing is walking up and seeing a woman exposed because she’s breast-feeding! Tell me, was it really necessary for her to have her breast out while discussing menu items with Akilah? I’d really doubt it.

We ended up not getting anything from her because we wanted rice and beans and she claimed no one had any beans. After walking to the end strip, we turned to try some avocado puree from the “feeding” woman. Good thing we turned around, because we were able to find beans; and they were in the shack right next to this woman. The only bad thing was that the food had so much palm oil we couldn’t finish it.

After leaving, we scurried back to Camrail; we were pretty sure it was boarding time. There were so many folks trying to get in and out of the station that the company has a security team working the doors. Apparently there are quite a few unscrupulous opportunists waiting to rip someone off.

We found our boarding area with little or no problem. We were in the first class cabins with the beds (lits, as they’re called). Not bad, first class service is definitely the way to go on the train; whether you have a seat or a cabin. When we first boarded, it was about as hot as standing in front of an open oven. So I had to stand outside until we began moving; that’s when the air would begin circulating.

We were sharing a cabin with two older women, one who had a baby with her. They were extremely nice, so I figured the woman at the counter earned her keep. She could’ve been shady and placed us with two men. The train pulled out maybe ten minutes late. As I looked around, I assumed it was more because it was prayer time for the Muslim passengers than anything. I do remember Akilah mentioning the North Province having a heavy Muslim influence.

We were under way. The immediate scenery was dull. But as we progressed, it got a little better. The night was falling, so we took in what sights we could. After about forty minutes, we arrived at the first station.

You know, I hate the smell of  baton de manioc. If you don’t know what it is, I will not suggest you run and find out. I’ve no clue where it comes from, but I do remember it has absolutely no nutritional value. As nauseating as it smells, I’m amazed that anyone can get accustomed to it. That was my thought when I realized we were having a ride with “baton de manioc!”

One of the women decided to purchase some. Not just one or two, but an entire batch of at least ten or more. Why would she do this to me in closed quarters? What’s worse is I heard about three or four others asking the price of the baton.

The other thing that got me was that at one point I looked down and noticed the other woman breastfeeding her daughter. Was this my day to be desensitized to women’s breasts? In our cabin, we all began heading to sleep somewhere about nine or just after. Except for me waking up every three hours, or whenever the train pulled into a new station, the trip was extremely peaceful.