Monday, January 09, 2006
Christmastime in Duoala.
Christmas did not loom in Duoala. There were occasional strings of glaring colored light, a few green tinsel strands and numerous well tended streetside piles of donated animals discarded by families in the west. Like leftover clothes and other paraphernalia, they find their way to markets in the developing world where they can be sold more cheaply than locally produced goods. Aside from these random splashes of Christmas the only sign of the season was a version of jingle bells broadcast incessantly on Cameroonian television, the chorus of which sounded like "Big red balls, Big red balls" and, because of that, never got old.
We were under the priceless care of Francois for the duration of our stay in Duoala. He put us into contact with modest African run NGOs that are doing exemplary and difficult work and he lead us to Duoala's world class grilled fish like only a local could. He and his wife, a regional expert in preventing malaria through specified diet, opened their home to us and fed us a number of complete, nourishing and delicious meals that we sorely needed.
On Christmas Eve he took us to a partially completed entertainment complex that is being designed by one of Cameroon's richest men, Kadji. Kadji is in the early stages of taking Cameroon by storm with a business model that combines very affordable fast food and dirt cheap pints of draught beer, all served over the counter of a small grocery store of useful items-no signs, no labels; his places are painted blue. His entertainment complex occupied dozens of acres and can be accessed for just six dollars per person per day. That entitles the visitor to access a series of swimming pools (one of which boasts a sixty meter water slide), tennis courts, football pitches, bumper cars, an arcarde full of free games (including about ten televisions hooked to well stocked playstation 2s), a room full of trampolines and every possible variety of inflatable circus game. The bowling alley, paintball facilities and go carts are being finalized.
This park was absolutely disorienting. Sean and I wondered from game to game, strapping into harnesses and navigating bouncy obstacle courses under nobody's supervision. Nobody bothered us with concerns about our health and safety and we enjoyed ourselves until we were completely exhausted. We followed this improbable early Christmas gift with grilled calamari so fresh it was not even slightly rubbery, large spicey grilled bass, and skewered prawns the size of a baby's arm. After driving to see the spent lava of Mount Cameroon's latest eruption and a university town a fair distance up the mountain's slopes, we returned to get our pre Christmas sleep.
But I was just pulling out of a mild week long flu that had kept me from seeing Duoala at night time and there was a remarkably loud outdoor party within distracting earshot of our hotel. Tuuli was sleeping and Sean was trying to. I made sure that he could not by stubbornly requesting that he have a Christmas Eve beer with me to celebrate my dawning wellness. Then we started playing poker, then WWF wrestling appeared on the hotel bar's television and distracted us completely with its abject stupidity. Eventually we decided it would be best to visit the nearby party which still sounded massive at 2am. We were disappointed by a dissipating, excessively youthful crowd and the clear signs that the organizers were already cleaning up. We had made the effort to put on sociable clothing and leave the hotel and weren't interested in walking directly back, so we asked the bouncers if they knew where everybody would be going next.
Douala has an exceptionally bad reputation for muggings and nightlife crime; so when the bouncers gave us their recommendation, we drew attention to how lame their party was and invited them to join us. They accepted, thereby becoming our personal security. In the small hours of morning we found ourselves on Joy Street in the company of thousands of celebrating people, discovering that one of our new friends was the weightlifting champion of Cameroon, drank malted vitamin drinks, ate raw eggs and wouldn't tolerate anyone bothering us, which anyone quickly understood.
After a while we emerged from one of the lively clubs and were floored to realize that the sun was thoroughly up. The streets were positively full of people who hadn't slept; they wore glittering hats and ran around yelling "Merry Christmas", which it was. We caroused in their midst for a while longer and then had a delicious riverside breakfast of pounded manioc chew balls in creamy sauce with fish boiled in seasoned broth (eighty cents a plate). We then bid our friends goodbye and returned to the hotel in time to find Tuuli preparing to leave the room and begin preparing traditional Finnish Christmas foods.
Francois was delighted that we were able to get a taste of Duoala's nightlife so he didn't mind that we showed up for Christmas lunch at 3pm. Just in time, as it turned out. Little more than a week remained of our month long Cameroonian visas and we still had to travel to Yaounde and acquire visas for Gabon and Congo. We left the next morning, armed with an indispensable detailed map of our route into Yaounde as rendered by Francois, who is willing to bet his car that we are going to reach Djibouti.
Christmas did not loom in Duoala. There were occasional strings of glaring colored light, a few green tinsel strands and numerous well tended streetside piles of donated animals discarded by families in the west. Like leftover clothes and other paraphernalia, they find their way to markets in the developing world where they can be sold more cheaply than locally produced goods. Aside from these random splashes of Christmas the only sign of the season was a version of jingle bells broadcast incessantly on Cameroonian television, the chorus of which sounded like "Big red balls, Big red balls" and, because of that, never got old.
We were under the priceless care of Francois for the duration of our stay in Duoala. He put us into contact with modest African run NGOs that are doing exemplary and difficult work and he lead us to Duoala's world class grilled fish like only a local could. He and his wife, a regional expert in preventing malaria through specified diet, opened their home to us and fed us a number of complete, nourishing and delicious meals that we sorely needed.
On Christmas Eve he took us to a partially completed entertainment complex that is being designed by one of Cameroon's richest men, Kadji. Kadji is in the early stages of taking Cameroon by storm with a business model that combines very affordable fast food and dirt cheap pints of draught beer, all served over the counter of a small grocery store of useful items-no signs, no labels; his places are painted blue. His entertainment complex occupied dozens of acres and can be accessed for just six dollars per person per day. That entitles the visitor to access a series of swimming pools (one of which boasts a sixty meter water slide), tennis courts, football pitches, bumper cars, an arcarde full of free games (including about ten televisions hooked to well stocked playstation 2s), a room full of trampolines and every possible variety of inflatable circus game. The bowling alley, paintball facilities and go carts are being finalized.
This park was absolutely disorienting. Sean and I wondered from game to game, strapping into harnesses and navigating bouncy obstacle courses under nobody's supervision. Nobody bothered us with concerns about our health and safety and we enjoyed ourselves until we were completely exhausted. We followed this improbable early Christmas gift with grilled calamari so fresh it was not even slightly rubbery, large spicey grilled bass, and skewered prawns the size of a baby's arm. After driving to see the spent lava of Mount Cameroon's latest eruption and a university town a fair distance up the mountain's slopes, we returned to get our pre Christmas sleep.
But I was just pulling out of a mild week long flu that had kept me from seeing Duoala at night time and there was a remarkably loud outdoor party within distracting earshot of our hotel. Tuuli was sleeping and Sean was trying to. I made sure that he could not by stubbornly requesting that he have a Christmas Eve beer with me to celebrate my dawning wellness. Then we started playing poker, then WWF wrestling appeared on the hotel bar's television and distracted us completely with its abject stupidity. Eventually we decided it would be best to visit the nearby party which still sounded massive at 2am. We were disappointed by a dissipating, excessively youthful crowd and the clear signs that the organizers were already cleaning up. We had made the effort to put on sociable clothing and leave the hotel and weren't interested in walking directly back, so we asked the bouncers if they knew where everybody would be going next.
Douala has an exceptionally bad reputation for muggings and nightlife crime; so when the bouncers gave us their recommendation, we drew attention to how lame their party was and invited them to join us. They accepted, thereby becoming our personal security. In the small hours of morning we found ourselves on Joy Street in the company of thousands of celebrating people, discovering that one of our new friends was the weightlifting champion of Cameroon, drank malted vitamin drinks, ate raw eggs and wouldn't tolerate anyone bothering us, which anyone quickly understood.
After a while we emerged from one of the lively clubs and were floored to realize that the sun was thoroughly up. The streets were positively full of people who hadn't slept; they wore glittering hats and ran around yelling "Merry Christmas", which it was. We caroused in their midst for a while longer and then had a delicious riverside breakfast of pounded manioc chew balls in creamy sauce with fish boiled in seasoned broth (eighty cents a plate). We then bid our friends goodbye and returned to the hotel in time to find Tuuli preparing to leave the room and begin preparing traditional Finnish Christmas foods.
Francois was delighted that we were able to get a taste of Duoala's nightlife so he didn't mind that we showed up for Christmas lunch at 3pm. Just in time, as it turned out. Little more than a week remained of our month long Cameroonian visas and we still had to travel to Yaounde and acquire visas for Gabon and Congo. We left the next morning, armed with an indispensable detailed map of our route into Yaounde as rendered by Francois, who is willing to bet his car that we are going to reach Djibouti.
<< Home