A Word on Travel

Travel in Southeat Cameroon takes on a whole new meaning, and frankly, you (our friends and family) would be shocked at the laissez faire attitude Matt and I have adopted here for the purpose of getting from one point to another.

Departure times are incredibly flexible, but generally run a minimum of two hours behind schedule. All roads out here are one lane, mud or dirt packed (season dependent), and somewhat treacherous. The traffic consists of logging and supply semi trucks, buses – stacked an extra 5+ feet high with luggage, private vehicles, and motos (motorcycles if you’re not from around here). Motos accommodate three people frequently but often a family of five can be seen packed tight careening cautiously down the road. Bridges, are well, just giant logs strewn haphazardly across streams and rivers of various widths and are prone to fall apart. There are no speed limits or traffic laws of any sort to be had.

Traveling and grocery shopping are not mutually exclusive activities. Villagers set out all kinds of fruit (bananas, mangos, pineapples, and avocados), plantains, manioc, escargot, chickens, and bushmeat on rickety wood stands outside of their homes. One simply stops the vehicle, beeps once, and then vendor comes running to sell their goods. The prices are incredibly cheap; bananas, for example, usually go for five cents a piece and avocados can be bought four for a quarter.

Delays are frequent and pretty much unavoidable. Matt and I experienced a record of four flat tires on a single trip that normally takes us three hours. That meant first one tire went down, then the spare failed as well, both tires were repaired en brusse (with natural latex collected from a local tree) only to go flat one after another ten miles from our destination. Giant trees are blown over in storms and then must be cleared by men and women wielding machetes only. No kidding, I got stranded Monday night after a rainstorm blew down a series of trees in between Moloundou, where I was for a meeting and our village.

Wednesday evening takes the cake however. I was traveling back to the base with Jonathan the driver, and a small team that has been helping me do a water quality survey. It was just after six, almost dusk, and a rainstorm was fast approaching. We could feel the air getting heavy and electrically charged, the wind had been blowing but then paused for emphasis. Twelve miles from town the rain struck down, pouring as it can only pour in the rainforest. Only slightly deterred, we kept on pushing for home, ten minutes later (or two miles) we came across a semi truck with its load tipped off kilter and balanced precariously on half a dozen thick sticks of wood. I sunk into my seat in utter frustration, the road was completely blocked, no chance of maneuvering around which meant spending the night in the car with Jonathan, who’s notorious for snoring. Our luck changed for the better when we realized the truck in distress happened to be transporting beer. The boys stripped down to their shorts and struck out into the elements to reap booty from the fallen load.

Ten minutes later, we're all sipping beer and feeling in better spirits (pun intended). There is an unofficial rule in Cameroon on beer-truck crashes, go figure, one can drink what one will on the scene just don’t start carrying crates away from the truck. Even more incredible than the luck of beer, was a moto that drove by shortly there after in the midst of the storm, which is almost unheard of. We flagged him down; I scribbled a quick note to Matt, wrapped it in a plastic bag, and sent it via this sea worthy courier to Mambélé. Afterwards, small groups of men start showing up to scout the scene for beer, yes its still raining, but their excitement is almost tangible. The moto driver had sent the word and everyone within 10 miles was celebrating over the tipped beer-truck, with the exception of the defeated semi-truck drivers.

An hour and a half later, headlights in the fog indicated an approaching vehicle on the other side. A tall, familiar figure walked in front the light beam, clad in a raincoat and carrying snacks. Matt offered to take all the stranded folks back to town, only myself and one other person took him up on the offer. As we left, we heard the delighted shouts of the new arrivals on the scene discovering their first few bottles of beer.