Day 3: The Bus to Mbouda (Mbouda)

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Day 3: The Bus to Mbouda (Mbouda)

Written by Eric Mathurin

Monday, 05 November 2007

The ladies cooking us breakfast. (Photo by Il Kim.)

Douala seemed, somehow, less worse with the bustle of Monday morning traffic. Probably because people were too busy doing their thing to pay as much attention to us.

We had a breakfast of omelletes, bread and Nescafé (instant coffee very heavily sweetened with condensed milk) at a nearby wooden food stall surrounded by benches just off the main road. The two woman behind the staff stood over their frypans and cooked the breakfasts to order in front of us.

David and Gill in relative comfort at the front of the bus.

David says:
The best option for breakfast is the relatively informal providers (mostly women) who bring a collection of pots from home and set up at tables along the road, often near intersections. They may seem informal, but they are in fact very established.

We then walked endlessly up and down the road, walking into every bank we could find asking if they exchanged money and trying to figure out the exchange rate. After an hour so of crossing the street back and forth (in, I might add, insane traffic) we decided we needed to get in a taxi and go to the more touristed part of the city (i.e. where the bigger chain hotels are). However, when our taxi driver heard where we were going he said we should exchange our money with a person he knows.

Eric, a little less comfortable. (Photo by Il Kim.)

So we pulled up to a street corner and the driver hailed his friend over who squeezed into the cab with David in the front passenger seat. We stopped a few blocks away and then we all exchanged our money with him and, indeed, got a better rate than we would have if we ever found a place that would exchanged our money.

After that (and a taxi ride back to the hotel) we deicded to get out of Dodge.

We loaded up our bikes and, in the late morning, we were cycling through the streets of Douala out towards where the busses leave from. It was so great to be on my bicycle, even in such crazy traffic. (Being oddities on bicycles probably at least helps us be more visible to traffic.)

Eventually we pulled up where a bus was standing by the road and we were instantly mobbed by people working around the busses. David disappeared behind an iron gate where he presumably was bargaining for our tickets.

They hauled our gear and bicycles on the roof and we squished ourselves inside. We then waited, it turned out, for them to fill the bus — even though I had thought it well at capacity. We ended up squeezing in 32 peple into a minibus with 22 seats. I had so little space I had only half of a seat-bone wedged between the seats and my arms were splayed at 90 degree angles in front and behind me so I could stay put comfortably.

Gill and Il stopping by a waterfall near the road.

The bus ride was... well, "a cross-cultural experience". We passed a few signs by the road that would say, "Ici 19 mort" — that is, "Nineteen people died here." We also passed through a multitude of police checkpoints. At each one the driver would stop and run out so he could give them a "cadeaux" to be allowed to continue on. Meanwhile, everything you could think of would come by on people's heads. The fat women occupying the seat next to me bought food each time.

David says:
It is common to see young boys, clearly of school age, trying to make a go of it walking the city with a platter full of dry goods on their heads. Girls are common as well, but more often with platters of fruit or cosmetics. With all of the competition and profit margins as low as they are, even if they turned over their entire stock in a day in is unlikely that after they restocked they would have enough in change to buy much more than the simplest meal of rice and beans, let alone enough to grow their business or support other members of their family.

We survived despite some pretty creative driving, and the driver even managed not to wipe out any school children despite coming very close. The bus also climbed high, high into the mountains — straining on the inclines but offering breathtaking views of the valley below.

We were happy to get off the bus and on our bikes again at the junction for Mbouda. The air was cool and inviting ... and I desperately had to go to bathroom by this point!

As we cycled I was so excited — this was what I had come for! The scenery was gorgeous and the people were friendly and happy (and surprised) to see us. I tossed out hundreds of "bon soirs" and waves which were usually enthusiastically returned. (Mostly I think people are shocked when they see 3 white people a Chinese girl on bicycles).

Our lovely room in Mbouda.

We had many shouts of "du courage" when we were spinning doggedly up the hills.

Unfortunately, it was now nearing 6:00pm and night was falling fast. We entered Mbouda in darkness, and although it was busy and filled with people it still had a much friendlier vibe than the big city.

Eventually David settled on a hotel we could all live with on a dark, dirt side road. (In fact, I don't know if he knew of any other hotels.) We put our bicycles into the tiny room: cement floors and walls with a bed and wooden table... one of the worse I've stayed in on these trips. At the very least it's the only when where I've seen cockroaches scatter when we turned on the light. And I mean big ones.

Since we hadn't eaten since breakfast we found ourselves a little restaurant that had a few choices available. We all had the ndolé with rice and soft drinks. Everyone there was very friendly and our young watier, Christian, kept us engaged in conversation, even having us all give him our email addresses and phone numbers.

Even though it was still relatively early (and very dark—no street lights in town and very few buildings are lit) we were tired. We walked to the end of town to "see what we could see" and then came back to our rooms and retired for the night.

Tonight is definitely a sleep sheet night—and hopefully any roaches won't find their way in. And that I can fall asleep.

As for "showering" ... well, maybe tomorrow night. See? Already my standards are waaaay down.

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