[Travel Diary] Sangmelima-Djoum: The Beautiful Ones are Not Yet Born!

By Canute Tangwa

In the heart of the evergreen, dense and lush equatorial forest of the South Region of Cameroon lies Djoum, one hundred and forty kilometres from Sangmelima- headquarters of the Dja and Lobo Division that by the force of circumstances, fate and design, begat the second president of the Republic of Cameroon.

Meandering, wheezing, gasping, bumping, heaving, spitting and hissing on the 140km untarred rugged-slimy road, our Toyota 4x4 pickup manned with unparalleled dexterity by our driver, Boko, grinded to a halt in front of Mado Bar at Djoum. “C’était vraiment un parcours du combattant”, he sputtered in French.

Djoum did not live up to expectation as the hub of very cheap bush meat in Cameroon. At a joint beside Le Municipal a plate of porcupine (Tchuku-Tchuku) with boiled cassava or bobolo (cassava paste) costs CFAF1,500. There is not much variety in terms of foodstuff. The locals grow mostly tuber crops and some grain like maize. Here, the fear of green khaki-clad anti-poaching government agents is the beginning of wisdom.  

We paid a price; Boko bought fresh porcupine and pangolin for CFAF6,000 around Meyomessi  that would fetch CFAF15,000 in Douala but forest guards at Akoman after a meticulous search of our vehicle seized them but in classical Cameroonese turnaround manner, after lecturing us on government’s determination to stymie the hunting of endangered species in this would be last rampart of a forest reserve that stretches to the almost virgin Ndoki forest reserve- straddling the Cameroon-Congo-Gabonese border, asked for a bakchich which we turned down. By this, the confiscated bush meat will end up in some market in town or in the cooking pots of their wives or wenches which will subsequently be washed down with fresh palm wine, Africa gin (odontol or afofo) or a bottle of beer that costs CFAF 700 or more.  

However, we had hard questions for the forest guards. Logging companies that exploit timber in the South Region fear not forest guards. Their licence to exploit is by presidential fiat. Since there is no freedom of information act in Cameroon, rumour mills run full blast and are taken for gospel truth. Hence, it is whispered in official and unofficial circles that the son of the prince (nkukouma) has a huge stake in the timber exploitation business. The alarming number of trucks and trailers transporting rare timber openly and publicly from Djoum, Meyomessi, Akoman, Nko, Oveng, Ekombite, Melen, Efoulan and so on to Sangmelima and onwards to Douala seemingly attests to the merciless rape of one of the remnants of the lungs of planet earth. It is striking that the names of these villages are identical to those of Yaounde city districts.   

What do the locals (pygmies inclusive) have in return; a fast growing charcoal market that supplies the environs and the cities of Yaounde and Douala. A bag of charcoal around Melen costs CFAF1,000 that would sell for CFAF8,000 in Douala. The business of on-the-spot transformation of wood is quite far-fetched. However, Rock Farm, in Ndonkol en route to Mvomeka’a, the property of a member of the inner circle and kingmaker, is an exemplification of how timber can be transformed into local use. But this is beyond the reach of most locals who luxuriate in abject poverty, misery and darkness.

Poverty and misery make the sincere wince. Poverty and misery amid plenty and abundance (natural and human resources) make the sincere wonder.  The late Charles Ateba Eyene wrote about the paradox of a region that at one time or another had (has) the highest concentration of the movers and shakers of the Cameroonian polity. To wit: 22 Ministers, 42 Directors General and Deputy Directors General of State Corporations; 7 Governors and so on. The Dja and Lobo Division alone once had 10 Ministers, 15 Directors General etc. Thus, to whom more is given more is expected in terms of mobilizing the masses for community development purposes; not in terms of accumulating wealth to the point where “everybody knew the chances of finding a way that was not rotten from the beginning were always ridiculously small.” (Ayi Kwei Armah in the Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born)

At the Mvomeka’a-Sangmelima bifurcation, there is a sign board on which is inscribed Lycée de Nkpwang. Moving closer to the school structure, you might think it is a mistake or a joke. It is real. From a distance, Lycée de Nkpwang looks forlorn and cuts the picture of a structure suffering from the pervasive run-away contractor syndrome.

Sangmelima is quite clean. It is an administrative town, nothing more (nor less) except for timber trucks or trailers that snake through this rather sedate town. In Sangmelima, the cult of personality is epitomized in the form of effigies of the head of State and the First Lady dotted all over the town! The town hall is an architectural jewel; it is an embodiment of hygiene, sanitation, space, light and symmetry. Apparently, it ties in with the vision of the keeper of the keys of the Sangmelima municipality which some Sangmelima watchers think might fizzle out immediately he hands over the keys or there is a regime change since one is left with the impression that the town is what it is because Big Brother is watching. Late at night, there is always mirth and the good things of life particularly at Mirifique nightclub.

A road construction company, Arab Contractors, is working on a stretch of the Sangmelima-Djoum CEMAC financed road. On this road most of the bridges are rudimentary; wood or plank glued together with virtually no traffic signs. Hence, at night or when it rains, a- not- too-prudent driver would nose-dive into one of the numerous streams. The earth is reddish clay and reminds any traveller of the earth in the North-West, West, East and Centre Regions of Cameroon.

However, there is a fundamental difference; its use in building dwellings. In the South like in the Centre, the locals do not use sun dried bricks to build houses despite the shouting presence of MIPROMALO (a government body that promotes the use of local building materials); rather they harvest sticks in the forest, cut and shape them into various lengths depending on whether they are meant for vertical or horizontal use. Some of the sticks are pinned vertically to the ground and ropes are used to tie some of the sticks horizontally leaving triangles or squares that are filled in with the red clay earth (poto-poto of sorts). The roofs are made of thatch or corrugated iron sheet. When these huts age they look like hovels or shacks. But what brings “so much confusion to the soul” is the contrast between these huts and the mansions or homesteads built deep in the forest by “les fossiles coloniaux” (Bernard Nanga in Les Chauves Souris) of this region.  

Despite the glaring hardship and resignation, any stranger to these parts is touched by a pervading spirit of hospitality and conviviality of the ordinary people. There is always a ready smile, a warm handshake, a friendly wave of the hand and a certain foreboding greenness.   

Comments

[Ade]

Great insight into life in the South which should paradoxically be the most thriving province in Cameroon

[Walters Esu'u]

As long as development is not systemic and structural, the south will remain the orphan child of Cameroon in spite of all its "big" sons and daughters.

[Isaac meyof]

Another insight into 'pays organisateur'! A convoluted tale of paradoxes, abject poverty amidst plenty of wealth, the good, the bad and the ugly... A reminder that a nation dos not need 'big' people but leaders with vision and focus; politicians who are driven by the desire to bequeath a legacy to posterity and the holistic polity, regardless of their origin or inclinations. To wit, a nation does not need strong men but strong institutions (Obama).

[Martin Jumbam]

Canute, great piece! I've never been to that part of our country. Djoum has forever been etched into the minds of some of us, Catholics, as the scene of a brutal and senseless elimination of some Reverend Sisters, who were close to the former First Lady of this country, who, too, unfortunately, ended her own stay on earth in a similar senselessly brutal manner. Like many Catholic clergy, who have also been murdered in our country, no one has ever been arrested for these crimes.

[Aloysius]

I love this piece of Art work. What about the margin between the super rich and the many destitutes in terms of mansions and the shacks? Did you observe that?