The wheels on the bus go round and round... If we're lucky.

Let’s take a break from gardening for a bit, shall we?

Instead, let me tell you about my first adventures with Cameroonian transport!

As part of training, we all go on site visits to visit current volunteers and to learn a little bit about life at post (and heck, to get a break from the sweaty ol’ training center!)

I was assigned to travel with two other trainees to Kumbo in the North West region to visit a Community Economic Development (CED) volunteer, Bridget.  There were 24 of us going to the North West, so Peace Corps was kind enough to arrange a bus to Bamenda for us. 

Sitting five to a row, you could say that we were quite…um…cozy.  Let’s just say that there was not a lot of wiggle room.  Luckily, we had the sweet sounds of Enrique Inglesias’s voice singing “Hero” on repeat almost the entire ride!  Thank goodness for the driver’s “USA Love Songs” mix!

The bus ride took nearly six hours, including a couple stops for lunch and bathroom breaks.  (Someone decided it was necessary to take a nice little bathroom break in front of the 2^nd-richest-man-in-Cameroon’s house, solely for the nice view of paved surfaces).  When we finally arrived in Bamenda, all the other trainees were greeted by their hosts and whisked off to into the city in search of tasty food (apparently there is amazing chocolate cake somewhere in Bamenda).   Meanwhile, I was left at the case (case = Peace Corps transit house) with five other volunteers (my two fellow travel buddies and three other girls going to a village near Kumbo).

Bridget had arranged for her favorite taxi driver, Augustine, to come pick us up and deliver us to her doorstep in Kumbo.  However, Augustine was running a bit behind schedule.  We decided to venture down the road for some delicious rice and beans while we waited.

After some delicious noms, we returned back to the case and only waited a little bit longer before Augustine arrived.

The six of us piled into the car, and bought out the extra seat in order to have a bit more space.  When I say “extra seat”, I don’t mean to say that this car had what most Americans would define as eight actual seats.  No, this was a tiny little two-door car, with your average three seats in the back, two in the front.  Yet in Cameroon, we take “high occupancy” seriously.  A typical Cameroonian taxi will squeeze four in the back, four in the front.  Yep, that means two in the passenger seat and two in the driver seat (one being the “petite chauffeur”).  Children do not count as people, so it would not be strange to be in a tiny little car with 8 adults plus some little kiddies sitting on laps.

Once again, it was quite a cozy ride.

Around 6:00PM, only minutes away from sunset, Augustine pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the car.  Flat tire. 

The six of us piled out of the car, thankful to be able to stretch our legs, but not so pleased to be standing on the side of the road in the middle of who-knows-where while darkness was fast approaching. 

Augustine jacked up the car and took off the tire, and then rolled the tire down the street and completely disappeared into the distance.

Umm…. Okay.

So we waited. 

And waited.

It was now dark. 

I called Augustine’s cell phone.  It rang from inside the car.

I called Bridget for advice, but she couldn’t really do anything other than reassure us that we would make it to Kumbo alive, eventually.  We decided to arm ourselves by clutching to whatever tools were used to take off the tire.  Just incase.

Eventually the driver came back and informed us that he had to travel back to Bamenda (nearly a two hour trip each way) to get a tire, but hey look!  We broke down right in front of a bar, and could chill there until he returns!  At this point, it looked like we wouldn’t make it to Kumbo until nearly midnight.

Before we were able to make any rash decisions about drinking the night away on the side of the road or hopping on random motorcycles on the way to Kumbo, magic happened.  A car pulled over in front of ours.  It was a friend of the Augustine’s, and he happened to have a spare tire!

We were back on the road within minutes.

When we finally arrived at Bridget’s apartment, we were greeted with spaghetti, homemade tomato sauce, and garlic bread, along with the wonderful company of four current volunteers who live in the Kumbo area!  It may have taken us 12 whole hours, but we finally reached our destination!

 

Kumbo was an absolute blast.  To sum it up:

• We rode around on motorcycles all the time.  This is the most common form of transportation that I’ll be using over the next two years, I would say.
• We visited a dairy factory where we got free yogurt and bought cheese that claimed to be gouda but really wasn’t.
• We went to the market and bought awesome fabric to be made into clothing later on.
• We attended a youth camp about making good life decisions, led by a PCV.
• I tried to learn how to dance like a Cameroonian (A.K.A. “shake your bombom”).  I failed.
• We took a hike to a waterfall!  There are so many waterfalls here!!!
• We ate really well:  spaghetti omelettes (have I talked about these yet? You should make these.  Seriously.  Details later), delicious cabbage, stir fry, chocolate, and french toast… french toast!!! 
• Oh yeah, and HOT SHOWERS!  

All good things must come to an end, and all stagiaires (A.K.A. Peace Corps Trainees) must return to Bafia. 

Peace Corps had intended for us to all find our own way back, I suppose as some sort of test.  We outsmarted the system, and decided to rent out another bus for the 24 of us again.  So Saturday, we had yet another squishy car ride back to Bamenda, and the 24 of us spent the night in a hotel. 

Can’t forget to mention the pizza.  There was pizza.  It was great.

Sunday morning, we packed up our bags once again, stopped by the bakery for some chocolate-filled beignets with sprinkles on top (I’m beginning to think this post is more about food than about transportation…), and then walked to the case where the bus was to pick us up.

Immediately I heard someone say, “There's no way this bus is going to make it all the way to Bafia.”

And whatdya know?!  About half way through the journey, the bus broke down!  None of us have any clue what happened, but luckily we broke down less than 50 meters from an auto repair shop.

Everyone got out of the bus and began pushing, Little Miss Sunshine style.  In the meantime, I took pictures.  (Come on people…do you really think little ol’ spaghetti arms could have been any help?)

Anyways, this has been enough rambling.  The bus was fixed pretty quickly, though while leaving the auto repair shop, the driver backed into a giant pole… Minor details.  Soon enough, we were back on the road, and here I am again, back in Bafia-land!