Victoria, Buea, Tiko: The 2009 Trilogy of Diaries

Buea, Cameroon

Louis Egbe Mbua

Nothing prepared my mind for what stood before me. As the car approached the hill towards Mutengene, my memories went into a vivid reverse: The hills, streams, valleys and lush forests appeared with immediacy but this time a reality seen. We had just left Likomba which I had known to be quiet; with broad roads and housing the Tiko Airport. As there was little time to check on these classics, I adjudged that it would be reasonable to return again at a later date. Although, the same old houses decorated the road side, one could see that the entire town was clean and neat; and that the inhabitants were of polite disposition.

The adage that there are a few good men on earth is true in this instance. There was dreadful news of the deplorable state of this road leading to Buea. However, it seemed all nightmarish dreams conjured up vanished before my eyes. The road was so designed that, a drainage system was included from Likomba on towards. As the car sped onto its destination, I posed a question:

“When was this road built?”

“Of recent, about four Months ago,” was the astonishing reply.

As we climbed the hill to Mutengene, I noticed the buildings that were there: the same but well kept. How this deprived people managed to maintain these high standards of maintenance is not easily explained; but one is drawn to an article I read in the London Sunday Times Magazine, 30 August 2009; written by Deidre Fernand, of title a curiosity provoke: From Purdah to Power. Fernand drew a vivid comparison of the indigenous women in power in colonial India. He wrote:

“The British needed Indian royalty to appear as rich and potent rulers of their own peoples, despite the fact that they wielded little power. They ensured that Indian majesties conformed to a cultural stereotype, displaying all the trappings of kingship with none of its reality.”

He went further stating thus:

“British rule in India, established after the rebellion of 1857, ensured that its princes were all style and no substance. For all their lofty titles, maharajas (the word means great king) and nawabs (rulers of Muslim peoples) were little more than actors in an exotic extravaganza, puppets in a peep show. When Lord Curzon, viceroy of India from 1898 to 1905 described them as “a set of unruly and ignorant and rather undisciplined school boys”, he was echoing the prevailing view that they were spoilt brats.”

I would not agree here with Lord Curzon as it seems his was that of colonial stereotype. On the other hand, Fernand’s objectives were to debunk this same prejudice; giving another side of the story. He countered this biased assertion by employing new research from the British Library:

“The story is one of subversion, risk and counter-revolution – the dwell in the crown. Its prince lings devoured books on philosophy, town planning, architecture and engineering and wrote treatises on democracy and women’s suffrage. While paying lip service to its British masters, many of the country’s most important dynasties were active in the nationalist movement. Some of those swearing allegiance to George V in the last great durbar, or regal regime, of 1911 were at the same time fighting for a free India – an objective not achieved until 1947”.

Quoting Deepika Ahlawat in the same article Fernand wrote:

“They had to keep their British masters happy while working towards their own political ends. They needed a dual identity and to be sophisticated diplomats.”

Arriving Buea made me understand what a few good men and women are capable of accomplishing in adversity and oppression. When I left Cameroon, the Mile 17 Junction was back water, covered with thick luxuriant Africa Forests; and in my wildest dreams never thought it could be transformed into a mini-Switzerland. It was such an engrossing sight and for a moment after reaching Buea, agreed in my mind that I find no difference between Buea and the suburb of Twickenham, London. I peered through the drainage system and it was all clean; jumped into a taxi and I was greeted with “Good Morning”. Is this Cameroon I have been hearing from afar? I wondered.

The next day I went to Buea Town to see what has happened there over the years. Again, I was brought to believe that it is possible to achieve in adversity. The roads leading to Buea Town is a double lane, clean and well-maintained. I decided to visit the neighbouring villages of Wondongo, Wonyalyonga and Wokwango, no speck of dust was in sight. I went past the Nigerian Consulate building and other old government and German buildings – spotless.

I decided to visit the Bokwango village located behind the Government Residential Area (GRA) itself. I was immediately introduced into the scene by what looked like a fashion parade; young women and men dressed to the nines. Who are these people, I asked. My friend was surprised at this question and replied with a rhetorical question: What do you mean by “who are these people?” They are citizens of the village he said, disappointed by my rather naive disposition. So, is there a fashion show in the village then? Quite the opposite, we do not do fashion shows here. These people are the villagers living here; that is their way. You people arriving from Europe appear to believe that we are totally ignorant of the entire world and that is not the case! He retorted half-angry and half-surprised at my questions.

Who did these things? I asked the indigenes and inhabitants. Some said it was the work of Mr. Mbella Moki, the seating Mayor of Buea. Others opined that, it was Mr. Peter Musonge, L’Ancien Premier Ministre de La Republique. Did Monsieur Paul Biya come here of recent? They said: ”No”. Who provided the money for this advanced development? Well, it was already in the Cameroon plans years ago. How is that? I inquired. Well, it appears there are always five years development plans in the old days. The government allocates funds to develop the country in these schemes. However, the big people misuse or embezzle these monies. When Musonge came, he instituted stringencies in these projects and made sure these plans were executed in all the provincial capitals was the prevailing opinions.

So, Bamenda, Bertoua, Garoua, Ebolowa have benefited, of recent, as Buea? My inquisitive mind strayed. Not quite, they said. Have you visited these places? Not all of them, a conscientious citizen answered. However, Bamenda is very developed, he continued. Indigenes abroad have stepped in; building beautiful houses and starting businesses. The problem we have here is water and electricity because they are all rationed.

I went, with friends and relatives, to a wine bar in Buea Town: just opposite the old Motor Park. Sat down, ordered a few drinks. Again, I was astounded by the good service and politeness of the people. Raised my eyes and saw what I could envisage as a crowd of people arguing with about five uniformed officers – at least one of them with a gun. What is the argument about? I asked. Well, the Police wish to arrest a man for a series of misdemeanours over a long period of time. They have tried several times over to put him behind bars; but with little success.” He is a Buea boy: born and bred”, they said with a mixture of pride and apprehension.

What is his name? He is Godlove, they said. At that very moment “Godlove” slipped from the arms of the Policemen and varnished without the slightest trace. Nobody could quite tell how he did it.

I would advise the reader to feel free and visit Buea, Cameroon, over this Christmas season if they so do wish.