When Samuel got to Wone, he boarded a vehicle that took him to Kumba, and he alighted at the Mile 1 Park where he boarded a taxi for the MONDIAL bus station at Buea road, Kumba.
On the way, he stared idly at the streets of Kumba, painfully aware that it was there that his mother died as he recalled how he had travelled the same streets to go visit her in the hospital. The town had instantly become a land of the dead for him. So he stopped looking out and just stared at the other passengers until they got to the MONDIAL bus station.
When they got there, he kept his luggage by the side of a bus that was being loaded and went to the office to buy his ticket for his trip to Buea. He then returned to the bus to ensure that his luggage was loaded onto the roof rack before getting inside to find a seat.
He picked a seat by the window, so he could just stare absently at the buildings and bushes beside the road when the bus started moving. That way, he thought, he would not have to dwell on the feelings welling within him: the pain he felt for the loss of his mother, the pain of missing his uncle, aunt, Dorothy and - most especially – Cyprian; the thought of his family’s touching concern for his studies that almost made him cry; and his inexplicable love for his brothers that melted his heart and brought him to the brink of tears.
In no time the bus took off and the sight of the buildings, people and bushes beside the road that seemed to be flying by at breakneck speed did spare him the agony of dwelling on his thoughts as he was lost in the moment just watching.
***
Situated at the eastern slopes of the gigantic Mount Cameroon was the historical town of Buea - the capital of the South West Region of Cameroon. Buea had been the capital of German Kamerun back in the colonial days; the capital of Southern Cameroons from 1949 until 1961; and the capital of Western Cameroon till 1972 when the Federation in Cameroon was abolished.
A handful of colonial era buildings survived in the town – most notably the palatial residence of the German governor Jesko von Puttkamar (now the Governor’s Palace) – and stood as witnesses to the colonial days.
In the past, Buea’s population consisted mainly of the Bakweri people, who were ancient fierce fighters, traditionally spiritual, customs-abiding and agriculturalist Mokwe-speaking people of Bantu origins. They lived in over a hundred villages east and southeast of Mount Cameroon – the Chariot of the Gods – with Buea their main population center. Also, their clashes with the German troops during the Bakweriresistance of 1891 remained popular folklore.
However, owing to its status as a university town and the regional capital, there has been a significant influx of other ethnic groups into Buea.
Because of its location at the foot of the mountain, the town’s climate is humid, with the neighbourhoods at higher elevations enjoying cooler temperatures while the lower neighbourhoods experienced a hotter climate.
This was the thought on Samuel’s mind as the bus got to Buea and made its way towards the Mile 17 motor park where he was to alight.
When they got there, he saw that the town had changed for the near three months he was away. Inwardly, he felt a surge of excitement that convinced him that a change of environment was going to help him heal from his emotional wounds.
He got his luggage and boarded a taxi for untarred Malingo Street where his house was. He kept looking round as the taxi sped off, trying to see if there had been any new changes since he left for the village.
When the taxi pulled over at the University of Buea main entrance (otherwise called UB Junction) for a passenger to get in, Samuel starred at the first gate leading to the university campus on which was carved the logo of the university with its name both in English and French, and told himself that he was back. The taxi surged forward and the journey continued.
The taxi got to Malingo Junction, turned left onto untarred Malingo Street and stopped after about a hundred and fifty meters. Samuel had finally arrived. He paid his fare, alighted from the car and went to the boot to get his luggage. Afterwards, he watched the taxi reverse and head back toward Malingo Junction before looking around him.
Everywhere looked different, probably because he had been away for a long time. Farther down the road was the Saints Peter and Paul University Parish Molyko, and all round him to the left and right were hostels where mostly university students were staying. To his right several provision stores as well as beauty salons, a carpentry workshop and other shops were lined up beside the road. Just behind those stores was the compound where he was renting. It was a fenced compound to the right of which was a three-storey hostel painted pink all round by name “TAYOR VILLAGE”. Across the road was a shortcut that led to the University of Buea, and that was the shortcut he took to school every day.
He got his phone from his trouser pocket to call his uncle and tell him that he had arrived safely, before calling Beltus, his roommate to tell him same.
NjohBeltusTicha was a huge, tall, fair Meta boy from Momo division in the North West Region of Cameroon and a second-year Banking and Finance student at the Higher Institute of Business Management and Technology – HIBMAT Buea. A year older than Samuel, he had been Samuel’s roommatesince the previous year. Beltus was a Catholic Christian, and he loved Samuel like his own brother.
Beltus had called Samuel the previous night to inform him that he himself had just got to Buea. He and Samuel were in touch during the holiday and when Samuel told him on phone about his mother’s death, he had expressed his heartfelt condolences in sympathetic words.
Samuel turned around and smiled as he saw Beltus materialize from behind the provision stores that lined up in front of their compound. Clad in an unbuttoned white shirt over a black pair of shorts, exposing his broad hairy chest under his white singlet, Beltus’ countenance radiated concern for Samuel as hecould only imagine what he must be going through right then.
Before Samuel could utter a word, Beltus closed the distance between them and gave him a bear hug. He held him tight for about twenty seconds before letting go. Then he regarded Samuel again with even more concern before saying, ‘I’m really, really sorry, Sam. No one should ever have to go through all that pain.’ When Samuel only smiled, Beltus said, ‘How are you holding up, bro?’
‘It has not been easy, but it gets better every day. The entire family has been unanimously supportive, and that has gone a long way to ease the pain.’
Beltus folded his arms across his chest, shook his head in pity and said, ‘Just take heart, Sam. Such is life. And as you yourself just said, it gets better; time heals all wounds.’
Samuel nodded in understanding and said, ‘Let’s get my things to the house.’
They carried the luggage and made it through the gate into their compound. Passing through a corridor brought them to the backyard which spread out to their left while to their right was a block of apartments painted yellow and separated from each other by demarcations. In the backyard grew pawpaw, plum and pear trees alongside yam mounds from which the shoots had just sprouted and maize plants which had started developing cobs, all of their leaves dancing to the rhythm of the soft breeze passing that way. There was also an abandoned wooden shed on which a decrepit wheelbarrow leaned.
Theirs was the second apartment. Each apartment had a moderate-size room with an interior lavatory and a small closet. The door was open; they went in and kept all the things Samuel had brought in one corner of the room for the meantime.
Samuel surveyed the room, noting that it now looked different to him. The floor was covered by a carpet with alternating black and white squares. The window which was sealed with a mosquito net and a set of glass louvers was to the right of the door and just below the window was their bed with the headboard set against the wall. Samuel saw that the bed was well made: curtsey of Beltus who he knew was someone who hated the slightest disorder.
Set against the far wall toward the foot of the bed was a gas stand on which sat a gas plate carrying two pots on each of its burners: a medium-size pot and a small pot. The lid of both pots had not been turned upside down, a sign to Samuel that whatever Beltus had cooked needed both pots; and his best guess was rice and stew. Set on the adjacent wall between the bed and the gas stand was the plate rack where their plates, bowls, cups and cutlery were kept.
At the far end of the wall to their left was their study table covered with a clean tablecloth, and there were four stacks of books neatly piled on the table alongside a small flower vase containing roses. Next to the table were two chairs. On the same wall hung a large mirror with a small crack in the bottom right corner. Hanging from a nail high up on the wall was Beltus’ school bag. Finally, under their study table were bottles of potable water.
Samuel occupied one of the chairs at the study table and watched as Beltus served him a plate of rice and stew with fried fish. Good guess.
‘I guess you must be hungry,’ Beltus said, setting the plate on the table.
‘Very hungry,’ Samuel concurred as he said the grace before meal before picking his spoon to eat. ‘Hmm, delicious,’ he commented with his eyes shut and a pleasant look on his face after the first mouthful as he watched Beltus lie on the bed. ‘I’ve missed your food for nearly three months now.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Beltus said with a smile. ‘How would you miss it when you have been eating yourself fat from the good food cooked by your aunts?’
After eating for a while, Samuel said, ‘You won’t believe how it was in the village, Beltus. At one time, we were allowed ten days to eat and drink as we wanted since we had been so exhausted after the funeral.’
‘Are you serious?’ Beltus asked, rising to his left elbow on the bed.
With a grin and a wink from Samuel, Beltus realized he had meant otherwise, and he returned a knowing wink.
Samuel went on to tell him how the funeral passed up till when they had the family meeting during which they decided to send him to school that year and finally ended by narrating what had happened in the village just before he began his journey to Buea. Beltus listened in silence, laughing when Samuel said something hilarious, and shaking his head when Samuel said something really pitiable.
‘Those are the stages of a man’s life,’ Beltus said after the entire narration. ‘These things all happen to make us strong and to know where our loyalties lie.’
***
By Decree No. 92/074 of 13th April 1992, the university center of Buea – among others – was transformed into the University of Buea, the very first Anglo-Saxon university of Cameroon. Over the years it has metamorphosed – like a growing child – from its one school and three faculties with a student enrollment of about seven hundred and sixty-eight students into a thriving university with three schools and eight faculties with over twenty thousand students from both within and outside the country - a true adult who was still growing with prospects of a brighter future.
It was the following day that the University of Buea was scheduled to begin lectures for the new academic year, but Samuel knew better than to expect to have any lectures just on the first day of school. Still, he got himself ready for school since there were other things that needed doing on campus that day.
He left the house for a cyber café along untarred Malingo Street where he paid his school fees and medical examination fees online at the University of Buea website and had the receipts printed.
As he waited to get the printouts, it occurred to him that when he just got to the University of Buea the previous year he had not known how to do these things by himself and had had to pay a senior student on campus to do them for him.
Moreover, he had paid the sum of sixty thousand francs (60,000 Frs) for his fees the previous year as well as five thousand francs (50,000 Frs) as medical examination fees since he had just been admitted into the institution as a freshman. This year, however, his fee was fifty thousand francs (50,000 Frs) and his medical examination fees, three thousand francs (30,000 Frs). The thought of the difference made him beam with pride at the fact that he was in another level now, and he could not wait to get to campus.
With the printed receipts, he set off for school with high spirits. The shortcut he took led him to the second gate that gave way into campus. The first gate was separated from the second by a long highway.
As he made it through the first gate, looking round to enjoy the view of the campus he had missed for three months, the University of Buea Medical Center materialized to his right. It was a large yellow building facing the road with its caption written in bold letters on a sign post on the front porch.
Directly in front of him was a statue of an elephant with its upraised trunk on a circular roundabout, and directly behind the roundabout was Central Administration – the building where the top offices of the university were situated, including the Vice Chancellor’s office.
He looked round about him and savoured the beautiful view of as much of the vast campus as he could see from where he stood. He then got to a door to the right side of the medical center where a long queue of students stood, noting that they were already being numbered for the medical examination. He stood at the end of the queue and waited impatiently for his turn to be given a number.
Almost two hours later – after waiting for a long time to be numbered, then going through his medical examination only to wait again in the lobby for about an hour for his result sheet which he finally got – he was glad he was through with the whole process. He then made his way to the Open Commons (a documentation centre on campus) to buy his timetable and see if he had any lectures that day.
The sun was already smiling warmly on the earth; however - as though the earth had betrayed their friendship - it grew furious, and became scorching hot in the space of a few hours.
As Samuel ascended the steps onto the verandah of Amphi 250, he recalled that Molyko was Mercury incarnate at such time of the year, which was not the case some decades back - as he had come to learn from people who had lived in Buea for a very, very long time.
This made him recall what his meteorology teacher had taught him in high school when he was a student at the Cameroon College of Arts and Sciences – CCAS Kumba about the depletion of the ozone layer in the stratosphere that resulted in the penetration of the harsh ultraviolet radiation onto the earth surface, thereby causing global warming and other hazards like the thawing of ice in the polar regions of the earth.
He still had a vivid image of his meteorology teacher Mrs. Epie Rosaline – a tall, graceful woman with a dark complexion, clad in one of those businesswomen suits she often wore to class – parading up and down the length of the podium in class as she explained to great lengths that if such meteorological phenomena went on unchecked, something akin to the Biblical flood of Noah’s day would destroy all life on earth in the space of a few centuries, since the thawing of the polar ice sheets was becoming increasingly rapid.
One thing Samuel would never forget was the shout of protest from the students at the thought that the earth would once again be destroyed by such a powerful flood.
Samuel smiled at the thought of old memories as he approached the staff canteen and saw that there were many students on campus that day.
‘Did God himself not vow that never again would He destroy the earth with a flood?’ one student had asked another.
But Samuel has always been painfully aware of the lethal ultraviolet legions that have taken advantage of the weakness of the ozone layer, the single defense that had always shielded the earth from them, to mercilessly launch their assault on planet earth as though they had been waiting for ages for the chance to do so.
He finally got the Open Commons which was an open space where books and other stationery were set out for sale on countertops behind which some people working on computers were helping the students pay their various fees online for a small token. It was quite a busy place that morning as it was flooded with students who were either passing by, chatting in groups with old friends they had not seen for months, buying stationery, sorting through the stacks of timetables for that of their department, struggling to do their online payment of school fees and medical examination fees or doing something else.
It was then that it occurred to Samuel that most of those students were freshmen struggling to get through the arduous process of getting settled into the new institution. He bought his timetable; and, seeing that the only lecture he was supposed to have that day was scheduled for seven o’clock through nine o’clock that morning, he decided to return home since it was already eleven thirty.
***
That evening, the Rev. Maliba John Bosco – Parish Pastor of the Presbyterian Church in Cameroon, Molyko Parish - steered his black Prado jeep into the church compound and parked it just in front of the two-storey building next to the church building. He killed the engine and got out to stretch his tired body as the gate was being closed behind him.
In his late forties, he was a dark, heavily-built man with a strong muscular body radiating strength and vigour. He was dressed in a gray suit with a black shirt and a white clerical collar.
Both the church building to his right and the two-storey building to his left were painted yellow. The church building itself had a triangular roof with a cross set between two sets of small windows just above the main door which was now locked. On the edges of the church building were two stone pillars painted black and white.
The two-storey building had a more gentle-sloping roof. Its first floor served as the church hall while the second floor housed his office and living quarters. There was a winding staircase to the front left of the building which he took to get to the second floor, his Bible tightly clutched to his chest by his left hand as though it were his most valued possession. He was a man who accorded great respect for the people and things he deemed worthy of it.
When he got to the first landing of the staircase, he rested the palm of his right hand on the concrete bannister facing the street and inhaled the fresh air as he watched the street of Molyko below him beyond the fence of the church compound. The street was busy as always, bustling with pedestrians moving up and down, and cars speeding away. There was also a variety of music emanating from nearby shops and nightclubs.
The Parish Pastor had just returned from the house of one of his sick Christians, an elderly man. He had prayed for him and strengthened his faith even more before returning home himself.
He turned and completed his ascent to the second floor where he opened the door to his office and got in, locking the door behind him. Another door behind his desk in the office led to his living room.
As he entered the living room, he saw that his supper was already served at the dining section at the farthest end of the room; but his beloved wife was not there. So he presumed she was already in bed as he checked the gold wrist watch on his bulky left hand to see that it was nearly nine o’clock.
Just as he placed his Bible reverently on the coffee table surrounded by a set of armchairs and a couch of the same design facing a flat screen TV hanging on the wall to his left, he heard his phone ring. He fetched it from the inner left pocked of his suit and saw that it was an unknown caller.
Releasing his bulky neck from the agonizing grip of the clerical collar with this left hand as he flopped on an armchair, he answered the phone call. ‘Hello?’
‘The Rev. Maliba John Bosco, I presume?’ a male voice called from the other end of the line.
‘Yes, it is I. And who are you?’
‘Irrelevant,’ the voice shot back, and the clergyman frowned. ‘We know what you did.’
The pastor felt his throat go dry and the hair on the back of his neck stand erect upon hearing this strange utterance from a stranger who had refused to reveal his identity. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Why not go see for yourself,’ the voice spat the words out. ‘Just under the door to your office you will find a package specially delivered for you.’ Then the pastor heard a sinister laugh from the other end of the line. This is not funny, he thought. He did not see any package at the door when he walked in. If anything was left there, it must be just after he got into the house.
He retraced his steps to the office and flipped on the light. The prospect of seeing a brown envelope just under the front door sent a visceral tremour through him. He stooped and picked it up, seeing that nothing was written on either side and it was a little heavy. Supporting the phone between his right shoulder and his head while the call was still in progress, he opened the envelope.
‘Jesus!’ he gasped as he saw the photos he had removed from the envelope. His phone almost fell from where it was. He heard another sinister laugh from the caller as he dropped the photos – four in all – on his desk and regarded them with wide eyes as dread squeezed him hard in the firm grip of its cold fingers.
In each of the photos was the pastor himself making love with a strange woman in bed. From the looks of it, the woman had taken the photos herself as she smiled into the camera.
‘I believe you have seen the package,’ the sadistic voice said calmly from the other end of the line. ‘Now those photos will reach the media - and definitely your congregation - in the blink of an eye if you fail to do what I am about to tell you.’
The pastor flopped down on the swivel chair behind his desk, his face as white as a corpse’s, his facial muscles now taut with tension as he stared blankly at the incriminating photos. His assailant’s voice now seemed otherworldly. ‘And what would that be?’ he dared say.
The caller let out a sadistic laugh of victory before barking his verdict in a cold, commanding tone. By the time he was done, the clergyman’s countenance had turned deathly pale, twisted in a frown. He finally found his voice and retorted, pounding hard on his desk hard with his left fist, ‘That’s ridiculous! I would never do that!’
The caller insisted calmly, ‘It is either you do that or your secret would be let out; and you would certainly die in no time. You have my word,’ before ending the call.
The pastor dropped his phone on his desk and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying furtively to figure a way out. There was no way he was going to let the photos hit the media: he had a great reputation to protect. He did not even want to imagine how his wife would react to it. Or his son and daughter who were both studying in Yaoundé.
Yet, what the caller demanded of him was utter madness. It was Thursday evening and he was to fulfill his obligation that Sunday else the shit hits the fan.
He then put the photos back into the envelope and stashed it away in the bottom left drawer of his desk with shivering hands before retiring to his bedroom without touching his food.
The sight of his wife sleeping peacefully under the duvet in bed filled him with guilt and regret as he tasted bile in his mouth. It was not until midnight that he finally fell asleep after staying up to see how he could straighten things out without any casualties.
***
At nine o’clock the following morning, Samuel was attending his first lectures at Amphi 600 with only a handful of students in attendance. But it was only to be expected, Samuel thought, since it was the second day of lectures and some students had still not returned from the holidays.
He answered almost all the questions posed during revision of the previous year’s work by Prof Njong Thaddeus, the professor of Management Science who was very impressed. Even his course mates too were impressed as they regarded him - some with awe, others with smiling faces.
At the end of lectures, severalstudents gathered round his desk like a swarm of bees drawn to a flower garden to congratulate him, get his phone number and try to get him to help them out with studies.
When he managed to squeeze himself from the throng and out of the hall, he gave a sigh of relief, only to hear a sharp female voice call his name from the doorway. ‘Not again,’ he muttered as he stopped walking. If for anything, he hated popularity as much as Muslims hated pork meat, and wished to God that a day would come when he would not have to leave the Amphitheatre after being delayed by a dozen students or so, especially when he was in a hurry to go somewhere. Yet, the impulse to always answer a question in class, even one whose correct answer he wasn’t sure of, always got the better of him. It was a paradox he was yet to deal with.
Turning around by a hundred and eighty degrees, his breath was cut short by the sight of what he thought was a true African beauty. The girl was about his height, fair in complexion, slightly fat with her straight long hair falling gracefully across her shoulders like the thunderous waves of the Menchum Falls in the rainy season. She wore a red blouse over a navy blue skirt. Over her blouse was a V-neck orange cardigan sweater. Over her left shoulder was a shoulder bag filled with her stationery. Her feet were clad in a low pair of brown sandals.
Samuel stopped in admiration of her breathtaking beauty. While she got closer, he noticed a rosary with green beads hanging from her neck. He guessed she was no older than he.
‘Hi,’ she said with a lovely smile on her lips, when she joined him where he was waiting for her. ‘Sorry for delaying you.’
Her voice sounded like the Seraphim choir in the highest heavens, signing eternal praise to God Almighty. He had to control himself to reply without giving away his amusement.
‘Oh no, it’s Ok. I was just heading to the library,’ he said as he shook her hand, feeling its tenderness. He even feared that shaking it too hard might cause it to break; so he gave it just a little squeeze before letting go. ‘I’m Bekindaka Samuel Ekoko, by the way.’
‘I see. I’m Ndze Sylvia Ewe. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘The pleasure’s all mine.’ He gave his best smile. ‘Wow: “Ndze”, it doesn’t sound like a name from around these parts.’
She gave a wider smile as she said, ‘That’s because it is not. I am an Esu girl; I hail from Menchum Division in the North West Region of Cameroon.’
‘Wow.’ He was wide-eyed now. ‘You mean Menchum on the border?’
‘Yes. So where do you hail from?’
‘Well, I am an indigene of Bakunduland; I hail from Dipenda Bakundu, Meme Division in this South West Region.’
Now she was wide-eyed. ‘Wow, nice. I’m headed to the library myself,’ she said as they walked toward the library. ‘By the way, I’m so impressed by your performance in class today.’
‘Thanks.’ He blushed. Inasmuch as he hated popularity, it sure landed him on a pretty girl’s path. After a brief silence, he pointed to her rosary and asked, ‘You are a Catholic?’
‘Yes, I am,’ she answered enthusiastically. ‘And I guess you are not?’
‘No. I’m a Full Gospel Mission Christian.’
‘Oh!’
Now Samuel was amazed to notice that the rosary was the only thing hanging from her neck; that she wore a simple pair of earrings; that she had not done any makeup; that the only ring she wore was on her left index finger, bearing an insignia of a cross; and that she wore a bangle on her right wrist and a small beautiful wrist watch on her left wrist. Very modest, he thought in silent admiration.
This, of course, was a far cry from most of the other girls he has been seeing on campus who did so much makeup that some of them ended up looking uglier than they were before using the makeup in the first place, and had all sort of necklaces hanging from their necks, alongside all sorts of manicure and pedicure. Some of them had even shaved their eye brows, replacing them with artificial ones, all in the name of fashion.
That distinction made Sylvia stand out from the other girls in his eyes.
‘I hope we can be friends,’ he heard himself say.
‘That would be awesome,’ Sylvia beamed; ‘being friends with the class genius.’
‘Believe me, I hate to be popular; but I guess I just can’t avoid it.’
‘Wow,’ she said as they passed the staff canteen, ‘me, too. I am a genius of a kind myself; I just don’t let people know. I’m not a fan of crowds.’
‘That’s interesting. Perhaps you could teach me the secrets of staying hidden.’
Sylvia’s phone rang before she could reply. ‘Excuse me, please,’ she said as she fished out the phone from her bag and answered the call.
After the call ended, he noticed that she now looked both fierce and hurt all at the same time.
‘What is it?’ he asked, looking concerned.
‘Oh.’ She summoned a smile. ‘That was my elder brother Roland. He just called to tell me our dad has travelled to Yaoundé. What pains me is that I had told my dad that he and I needed to talk tonight. Yet he just leaves without informing me; he had to pass the information through my brother!’
He could see her ferocity intensify now.
‘Sorry about that.’
‘It’s Ok.’ She smiled weakly before saying, ‘I’m sorry, Sam; I am no longer in the mood to go to the library. I had better go home now.’
He could see the news was really taking a toll on her.
‘Can I have your number, please?’ he asked.
‘Ok,’ she said, and they exchanged contacts.
He was about turning to continue on his way to the library when he saw her walk up to a green RAV4parked next to Amphi 250, take out a car key from her bag and enter the car before driving off.
‘Some rich girl,’ he thought before turning to be on his way.
***
When Samuel told Beltus about Sylvia that evening over supper, he was thrilled to hear it.
‘That’s the turning of a new leaf in your life, Sam,’ he said. ‘Like I said, it gets better.’
‘Indeed. You just need to see her for yourself, Beltus. She is naturally endowed with beauty.’
‘I know what you mean, Sam,’ Beltus said, pointing at Samuel with his fork. ‘I have been in love several times and I know the feeling.’
They continued eating in silence. Beltus had recently broken up with yet another girlfriend on the grounds that he suspected she had been cheating on him. Samuel had never asked whether he had investigated further. He thought it was a sensitive issue.
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