Life in Bamenda

As the plane lands in Douala and in Yaoundé, you can look down at an apparently random series of lights. The same is true when you come over the hills towards Bamenda. These pattern-free lights are not there when you land in Manchester, Liverpool or Heathrow. Nor are they when you travel along the A55. We have long strings of lights, which enable you to pick out the roads and streets. There is no street lighting here in Cameroon, so that the random sprinkling of lights reveals no pattern at all. When there is a power cut, as happened yesterday and tonight, everything becomes pitch black – the only lights coming from car headlights. It was in such a minute of blackness that I fell last night, grazing my arm, tearing the sleeve of my Van Heusen, and staining shirt and trousers with the red sand and gravel so prevalent here. I’m none the worst after applying a plaster, but the red stains won’t wash out!

The work is becoming ever clearer. I’m grateful to Canadian volunteer Paul Mercer for his insights. You’ll find him on one of the pictures. I’m hoping to attach pictures of Rose, who looks after the Baptist accommodation, and some of the place where I’m working. The building is a bit spartan from a U.K. perspective, but it does have some modern equipment.

I’ve had more experience of the yellow taxis. I’ve sat in two with holes in the floor and two with broken windscreens. On the way home tonight I had to share the front passenger seat with a young Cameroonian woman. She didn’t complain, and nor did I!