Dag 30: Sangmelina na Yaounde

(English translation below)

Dag 30: Sangmelina na Yaounde
 
Vanoggend hang daar onweerswolke, 'n soort onheilspellendheid, oor die landksap. En oor my gemoed. Ons is moeg. Alles is vuil. Ons mage wil nie bedaar nie.
 
Die plek waar ons geslaap het was vreemd. 'n Gesegde van Gadaffi teen die muur agter die ontvangsdame wat lui: Common enemy. Common destiny. Africa for Africans! Duur Mercedes- en Porsche sportsnutsvoertuie. Splinternuwe Land Cruisers. Die plaaslike adelstand kom hou hier naweek. Hulle groet nie. Lyk geirriteerd met ons teenwoordigheid. Net voor ons ry is daar 'n blinkgepoetste mannetjie wat 'n Immigration-kaartjie uitpluk en ons na ons kamers toe stuur om ons paspoorte te gaan haal. Om tien keer 'n dag jou pasboek te wys laat mens onwelkom voel. Dis hoe mense moes gevoel het tydens apartheid.
 
Nou ry ons deur sagte reen en probeer sin-maak van die kontras tussen ryk en arm hier in Cameroon, en hoekom ons juis hiér soveel meer onwelkom voel. Ek dink dis omdat hier nie 'n middelklas is nie. Jy's óf superryk met kontakte in die regering, óf jy dra 'n uniform wat aan jou darem 'n mate van mag gee, óf jy is deel van die brand-arm massa wat daagliks worstel om te bestaan. Ons teenwoordigheid as middelklasmense, met motorfietse en tyd om te toer, is moontlik 'n aanklag teen 'n stelsel wat faal om sy mense te laat floreer.
 
Hulle stop ons nog 'n paar keer voor Yaounde. Dit begin ons irriteer, maar daar is net één manier om dit te hanteer: gedwee en vriendelik. Die probleem is as mens moeg en dors en natgesweet en vuil is en nie lekker ruik nie, begin mens se vermoë om magsvertoon met 'n glimlag te verduur, dun raak.
 
Ons besef ons moet rus. Vanaand en môre-aand slaap ons in Yaounde sodat ons kan rugby kyk, bande ruil, kettings en lugfilters versorg, wasgoed was en ons gemoedere herlaai. Twee outjies met wakker oë ontvang ons vriendelik in ons hotel, help ons afpak, bring vir ons elkeen 'n bier.
 
Die Springbokke wen teen Frankryk! Ons vergeet van die riller-modderpad wat vir ons wag ná Yaounde. Van die ontvoerings in Nigerië se Suide en die bedreiging van Boko Haram in die Noorde.
 
Die Kaap is, vir 'n oomblik, weer Hollands.
 
Day 30: Sangmelina to Yaounde
 
This morning, there are ominous dark clouds, a kind of foreboding, over the landscape. And over my mood. We are tired. Everything is dirty. Our stomachs won't settle.
The place where we stayed was strange. A saying by Gaddafi against the wall behind the receptionist that reads: Common enemy. Common destiny. Africa for Africans! Expensive Mercedes and Porsche sports utility vehicles. Brand new Land Cruisers. The local elite's hang-out spot for the weekend. They don't greet back when we greet them. Irritated by our presence. Just before we leave, a well-groomed man flashes an Immigration Official card and sends us to our rooms to go get our passports. Showing your pass-book ten times a day makes you feel unwelcome. It's how people must have felt during apartheid.
 
Now we drive through light rain, trying to make sense of the contrast between the rich and poor here in Cameroon and why we feel so much more unwelcome here in particular. I think it's because there's no middle class. You're either super-rich with government contacts, or you wear a uniform that gives you some degree of power, or you're part of the extremely poor masses, struggling to survive daily. Our presence as middle-class individuals with motorcycles and time to tour might be an indictment of a system that fails to let its people flourish.
 
They stop us a few more times before Yaounde. It starts to irritate us, but there's only one way to handle it: With a smile. The problem is when you're tired, thirsty, drenched in sweat, dirty and smelling badly, your ability to uncritically bow down to authority, with a smile, thins out.
 
We realize we need to rest. Tonight and tomorrow night, we'll stay in Yaounde so we can watch rugby, change tires, attend to chains and air filters, do laundry, and recharge our moods. Two guys with bright eyes welcome us warmly at our hotel, help us unload, and bring each of us a beer.
 
The Springboks win against France! We momentarily forget about the muddy off-road path that awaits us after Yaounde. About the kidnappings in South Nigeria and the threat of Boko Haram in the North.
 
For a moment, all is well again.

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