Lately, I have found myself really missing the Canadian Accent: Avast thar, matey, ‘tas been many a day since I sank me gobbers into a fine sun-dried tomater and broccoli quiche, with a grand mug of Perrier and me fair Northern lass by me side. I’d give many a farthing for a wee bitty glass of merlot, but alas, ‘twill be a long time still, so I’d best keep me sights on the goat stew and local grog that me fine hosts so kindly serve. Aarrrr.
And such.
I’ve decided to dedicate this entry in its entirety to public transport in Cameroon. We’ve all heard stories or had experiences with taking taxis or buses in developing countries, but I still feel impelled (feeling the impellation? Hey, where you from? Oh me? I’m from the Impellatias…) to write about it anyway. No matter how many times I witness it, I’m still knocked over by how creative and resourceful people can be with limited means.
For short distance commutes, the only means of public transportation are taxi (compact-sized car) and moto-taxi (motorcycle). There is no public bus system in any of the cities, so the taxis carry as many as they can fit. The majority of taxis here are Toyota Corollas with capacity for 5 people, provided the 3 in the back are undersized. Taxis will not leave Santa for Bamenda (about a half hour ride) until they are full. Five is not full. Eight is full. Nine if the driver is ambitious. It is not uncommon to find yourself sitting on a stranger’s lap (and vice versa). To be more accurate, it is not uncommon to be completely unaware of what your cheeks are actually touching. Just as well, I say.
Question: when speaking of one’s butt, is the word “cheeks” spelled differently? It just looks weird in that previous sentence, spelled that way.
On my first experience in a cab ride from Santa to Bamenda, I was the lucky recipient of the “handbrake” seat between the driver and passenger, which was equipped with a small pillow for my riding comfort. It goes without saying (how come we use the phrase ‘it goes without saying’, to introduce something we are about to say? Do you like the way I included you in that query by saying ‘we’?), this is a lovely little feature that any conscientious cab driver would provide. Not a bad arrangement; one person each in the bucket seats, with me in the middle.
At one point, the driver stopped the vehicle, got out, and another young gent sat in his place. I thought to myself, “I see the driver’s shift must be completed, and in accordance with Union regulations, a new, refreshed and well rested driver is taking over.” Then, the young gent put his arm around my shoulders, squeezed over toward me, and the original driver got back in. That was when I learned how to fit 4 people into 2 bucket seats. I also learned the etiquette of sharing the little handbrake cushion.
As for my personal record in a cab, it’s a toss up: I was as one of ten people, including 5 in the front, albeit 2 were minors; another time I counted 3 adults and 4 children (not babies, not toddlers: children) in the back seat. I actually lost count because I couldn’t see everyone. The award would probably be 9 adults. I should probably point out that, although there are pygmies in Cameroon, they do not live in this region. Often, when a full load goes by on the highway, you can only make an assumption as to who is the driver. That is not an exaggeration.
Without a doubt, the greatest benefit to sharing a small amount of airspace with a group of strangers, besides playing the game, “guess what I had for lunch today?” is the banter. Usually everyone is speaking Pidgin, so I can only catch parts of the conversation (Ha fo yu? Ah day fayn, ha fo yu skin? Ma skin day fayn!! Translation: My good man, how are you? I am doing just fine, thank you so kindly for asking. And you, how are you feeling? Well, as a matter of fact, I had a medical check-up just the other day, and everything is great!!). Nevertheless, I’m always left with the feeling that I am among a group of old friends.
The other mode of transport around here is moto-taxi, also known as a motorcycle. One hundred twenty five cc’s of raw…well anyway, VSO allows us to ride as passengers, but we must wear helmets. Given that I never have my helmet with me, I choose to opt out. That, and the moto-taxi drivers are almost all teenagers who have just learned to ride, and are trying their luck at ‘self-starter’ enterprise. Forget the lemonade stand biz; we’ve got people to transport!!
One of the things I’ve still not managed to capture a good photo of is the unbelievable amount of cargo that can fit into vehicles. I’ve seen full-grown live pigs on the back of motorcycles, plantains (relative of the banana) piled 2 metres high in trunks of cars, people riding on the roof and hood of a car, and any other configuration of people and cargo you can dream of. The other day, I saw a full-grown live cow lying on its side in the back of a compact car, back seats down, and hatchback open, of course. If it hasn’t been done before, people here will find a way. Most admirable, I think.
Transport from city-to-city is by bus. Like the taxis, the buses do not leave the station until they are 100% full. This, of course, means that the 9:30 bus will start loading somewhere thereabouts, but you may have to wait a while before it leaves the station. Most times, I get my own seat, so it’s not so bad. The worst experience I’ve heard of so far was from my colleagues who work in the Extreme North Province, where VSO is very active. They had to ride in the back row, 5 people in 4 seats, for 8 hours in 40°C heat. When I think of that story, I think to myself, “I’m ok with the handbrake seat.”
Point of note: when I think to myself, I always use parentheses. You probably do, too, but do you have it in writing?
As a parting note, I’ll just say that I don’t care to find out what happens when the driver needs access to the handbrake while the vehicle is in motion. My guess is, handbrakes are a frivolity here.
Smol taym (see you soon),
eb
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