N'Gaoundere, Cameroon

I met my guardian angel yesterday at a crowded roadside cafeteria in N'Gaoundere. He was unobtrusively sitting across from me, blending seamlessly in with the crowd. I was eating flavorless liver with soggy plantains. In a southern drawl more at home in Alabama or Louisiana, he said his name was Dale.

While I am certain that I have kept him busy in the past, there had never been a reason for an actual meeting. He has done a great job; many lesser accomplished guardian angels would surely have failed in his place. With a magician's touch, he has worked skillfully behind the scenes. But this time was different.

It is quite possible that Dale tried to drop me hints from afar. Even now, the Harmattan winds are gathering strength as the dry gusts give new life to the parched earth. I am quickly growing accustomed to wearing layers of dust like clothes. With such a great disturbance in the air, I understand how it would be difficult for any messages to get through. A more direct intervention must have been necessary.

As I forced liver down my throat, desperately trying to trick my stomach into acknowledging that it had no choice in the matter, I causally mentioned our travel plans to Dale. We had planned on leaving for Yaounde the following day via the easterly route by the Central African Republic. This was a trip that would take several days across what Lonely Planet describes as a 'vast trackless wasteland' separating the north from southern Cameroon.

Dale cheerfully informed us that during the past week, Chadian rebels had hit an unusually large number of vehicles on this route. While some highway banditry was typical in this region, this recent spate of assaults had also notably occurred during the day. Dale discreetly remarked that these Chadian's had a particular distaste for white Americans. It was clear that he thought we should avoid the route.

If we had left Nigeria earlier as we had planned, we might very easily have been caught up in the recent strikes. I didn't ascribe it to Dale before, but I now felt I saw his handy work in the Air Force incident. It still seems highly implausible that the Nigerian military and customs detained us for so long through hospitality and kindness. I wanted to ask Dale how he pulled that one off.

As I pushed aside the remaining liver, which curiously looked indistinguishable from the plate I had been served nearly an hour before, I thanked Dale for the update. He said he had to be going and wished us safe travels. As he was leaving, a bit incongruously he told us that if we wanted great grilled fish, we had only to look in the part of the town infamous for its prostitutes. Then he was gone.

We are no longer taking this easterly route. There is only one other realistic option, heading south west back towards the Nigerian border. This road is said to be 'rough and seldom traveled'. We will be going very slow and banditry is still a threat. But to ignore Dale's extraordinary appearance and timely advice would be particularly daft.
* posted by Sean at 4:53 AM