CITIZENS, CONSTITUTIONS, INSTITUTIONS AND SYSTEMS -- PART 1

Mentuhotep II: First King of Middle Kingdom ancient Egypt; The Egyptians created the first institution of government; the idea of citizens, laws and systems which lasted at least 3000 years. Winkipedia

Louis Egbe Mbua

When the moral fabric of a society cracks up; and the crack spreads rapidly from the top of the establishment to ordinary citizens in an uncontrollable manner, then the system has failed perpetually; and must be changed so that it could be replaced by the most benevolent system. Historical facts point to the ruins of ancient civilisation which had reached their zenith but ultimately failed. It can be safely said that failure starts with the people who control the levers of power --the establishment -- who run the variously created institutions; write up the constitutions and make the system work in a civilised environment.

The main cause of such a decline is normally linked to a decline in moral standards in every sense of the word by a majority of its citizens. During the Bill Clinton Presidency, in the entire 1990s, it can be inferred that the former America President presided over one of the longest, most enduring, robust and “feel good” economic boom America saw last century. It has now been shown to be a temporal hitch as the credit crunch and economic collapse returned with a vengeance almost 20 years later, in 2007/2008.


What Bill Clinton showed was that it is possible to engage in some kind of immorality with a 25 year old Monica Lewinsky (That Woman), albeit in a small way, and at the same time stay as president with good economic and political credentials. Good and fine. But the consequences are that the next president may find nothing wrong with engaging in a small or big malfeasance as we are witnessing in this US election drama where George Bush won in 2000. In 2003, he went on to fulfil this prophesy – executing futile and senseless war in Iraq on the foundation of a very big lie about Iraq possessing chemical weapons or weapons of mass destruction (WMD). The consequences have been disastrous economically, morally and politically with catastrophic human and material costs. Is this, therefore, beginning of the decline and fall of the USA? That is an academic question.

This, one dares to believe, is how nations start to decline and with it the institutions, law and order and the overthrow of its constitutions; and the eventual collapse of the system with the subsequent suffering of its citizens. The Roman Empire was one of the greatest and long-lasting empires that the world has ever known. Edward Gibbons in his "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" wrote, "The gentle but powerful influence of laws and manners had gradually cemented the union of provinces. Their peaceful inhabitants enjoyed and abused the advantages of wealth and luxury." It lasted almost 2000 years. At its peak, it controlled almost the entire known world from Great Britain to Egypt in Africa to Persia in Asia. With good and upright leaders albeit dictators-for-life such as Julius Caesar, they practised a form of constitutional democracy in their Senate. They built institutions and almost perfected the system with its citizens living in enormous luxury.

Then came final the blow. Its leaders became corrupt, engaging in all kinds of violence, debauchery, tyrannical acts, incest and pornography, paganism, theft and laziness and ridiculous pleasure and orgy.In one narrative, the Historian William Kinglaman wrote that: "On the banks of the Tiber, the older members of the Roman Aristocracy vied, not entirely willingly, to see who could spend the most money on the luxury goods that were offered for sale in booths, while their sons and daughters competed in obscene dramatic productions and athletics contests." These were games designed by Emperor Nero in conjunction with the establishment that eventually led to breakdown of the system; and the consequent down fall of the Roman Empire. In fact, Caligula, the Roman emperor, blew the entire Roman treasury within a year after Tiberius. So, who is to blame here? Corrupt leadership or bad institutions? Is there any pointer as to what good institutions are? Which comes first in priority? Human leadership or institutions?

In the Cameroonian and African context, what we saw in the last three decades was the decline and fall of middle-income countries from glory to ignominy where the entire Africa, Cameroon in particular, became poor indebted countries overnight.. Are we to say that Cameroon did not have institutions and many good laws before the present regime came to power? Did the Cameroon citizens not create state- run institutions such as the PMO, POWECAM, functioning airports and seaports, a state Airline? Or are we to say that these were not institutions built by citizens? While one has to credit the Ahidjo regime with reasonable economic achievements, I believe the present government must be held fully responsible for the moral decadence that is today in the Cameroonian social, political and economic life.

Once corruption has set in, most of the time introduced by morally bankrupt leaders, it permeates the society and affects all citizens whether there are good laws and a constitution or not. If the judiciary, some high-ranking government officials; the legislative arm and the police are corrupt institutions -- who citizens emulate -- then what use is the law, institutions and constitution? What becomes of the citizens in such a system?

Living in the 21st Century (5): Civility and Polity

Louis Egbe Mbua

Better a disposition polite
Than an exposition rude
‘Cause to be rude
Is to be crude
But to be polite
Is to please

Better a low voice spoken
Than a high note shouted
At the top of your voice
‘Cause to shout is to be crude
While to whisper
Is to please

It’s better to laugh
Than to cry
Because laughter
Pleases the heart
While sorrow
Depresses the soul

It is better to be quiet
Than to be loud
Because Silence
Inspires thought
While loudness is
A useless battle fought

It is better to eat
Your lunch slowly
Than to eat too fast
Because eating fast
May reveal you had
No Breakfast!

Better to take
In food small by
Small at a time
Than to take
A double gulp
In one fell swoop

Because every
Small at a time
Improves health
But a double gulp
May endanger
Your health

Now, better be calm
And calculating
In the face of
Aggression
Than to rush
In revenge

Because an
Aggressor is always
In a rush and
Can be coaxed
Into deep holes
Without aggression

Better a maker
Of Peace
Than a monger
Of war
‘Cause a maker of peace
Is admired by all

It’s better to
Advance justice
Than to
Enhance Injustice
Since the Unjust
Will be weighed in the balances

And will be
Found wanting
On account
Of their own
Injustices
And Folly

The just
Is Loved by
Many;
And peace cometh,
But the Unjust
Has hate installed.

Thus, it is better
To return Love
With Love
Than to receive
Love
And return hate

Because love
And hate is
Complete
Opposite
As to create
A collision

Still, it’s best
To return hate
With love
To obviate the
Clash but do
Not be a fool!

Victoria, Buea, Tiko: The 2009 Trilogy of Diaries Part 3

Victoria Down Beach Today (Wikipedia)

Victoria in about 1918

Louis Egbe Mbua

The shocking experience at Tiko had dampened my elastic hopes I had nurtured from the Buea positive experience. This, in some ways, triggered some discouragement and disillusionment for the next stage of the odyssey. However, I was determined to go to Victoria, where I was born, to see for myself what changes and transformations had occurred in both social and infrastructural development.

On this occasion, I didn’t go directly to Victoria. I stopped at Mutengene to visit a classmate of mine, whom I hadn't seen since High School days. As we waited at the drinking spot just off the junction that separates Tiko, Victoria and Buea, I could notice the rolling hills and forests to the West towards Victoria. The yellow sun was straight up in the sky casting pure light through the green leaves of the forest and then reflecting right down to the coasts of Cameroon. As the position was just up the hill north to Buea, I could see the creeks of Tiko and ships or tankers making their way to Douala – by-passing the now derelict Tiko port. As I watched, I noticed tankers upon tankers of vehicles, loaded with refined petroleum passing through the junction towards Tiko – most probably going to Douala in Francophone Cameroon. Surely, this is refined petroleum from the Cameroon National Refinery based in Victoria, I thought. After seeing my friend and other relatives, we got into the car and turned west towards Victoria.

The car sped, passing through the rolling hills. The roads were extremely well maintained. As we cut through the CDC plantations of oil palm grooves and trees, I could notice that they had hardly changed in nature apart from the fact that it appears that some of the oil palms trees have reached their full life span. Whether they will be replaced or not is unclear. However, it should be noted that the CDC, in conjunction with the regime in Yaoundé, have a tradition of carving out these native lands and selling them up corruptly with the the pretext that they are handing the lands to the native indigenes. There are reliable reports that corrupt Administrators from of Cameroon are now the biggest land owners in Victoria due to this land racket. As we were about to reach Mile 4 Bonadikombo, I could see the banner “Welcome to Limbe”. It has to be recalled here that the name of this City was arbitrarily changed from Victoria to Limbe without due consultation. It seems the Francophone regime in Yaoundé wanted to erase the identity of this historic city and replace the culture with ill-conceived French-speaking cultures which the inhabitants detested.

As we entered the City into Half Mile, I noticed the house that I was born at the left bank of the road, up the hill. It is still there. Furthermore, I realised this is one of the cleanest Cities I can judge as of today; and which I can discern. No speck of waste paper nor even dust could be noticed. As we entered the City, we passed through New Town, and drove to the Botanical gardens. It is interesting how this Green Park had been maintained over the years. It was so beautiful that one would not know the difference between this garden and possibly Kew Gardens in London. The only difference is that it is just off the Atlantic Ocean -- which may be viewed directly from any vantage point of the Garden. The shrubs, plants and trees were well pruned; and there were seats that one could take a rest after touring the Gardens. The natural aromatic smell of green vegetation was heavy in the air like a naturally manufactured perfume.

After this experience, we went on to visit the Saker Baptist College. Interestingly, the coconut trees and serenity of the place has been kept as they were; and as was known – a bit of a shame about the road leading to the College. This is surprising knowing that the Cameroon elite have their offspring and siblings educated in the institution. Overall, the atmosphere appeared conducive to good learning and social development for girls.

Having, made the flying tour, passing through the banking districts in Down Beach, I went to Down Beach proper for a cooling down period; and from where the Atlantic Ocean stretched from the shores of Victoria to the endless horizon; and from where one could easily turn around and have the stunning views of the surrounding mountains and hills that form part of the Chariot of the Gods. The view is further modified by the more than a century old German classical colonial buildings.

Ordered roasted fish fresh from the Atlantic complete with a bottle of Cameroon beer; and quickly quenched my appetite and thirst. It had been a very long time since one had been treated with “green fish” fresh from the ocean of one’s own land.

The seaside restaurant was extremely clean; the people welcoming and the waiters of exceptional standards. In my view, there was something missing: a landscape very familiar to me; and which used to stand about 200 metres into the sea. In its place was what looked like two to three desolate strips of land but with the lush green forests gone. It would seem to me that this was the result of global warming and hence climate change that is affecting sea levels causing it to rise. On the other hand, I thought, why is that Down Beach itself has not been flooded by the rising sea? After everything, the entire Victoria City itself is just a few metres above sea level on its beaches. I therefore ascribed another reason for the disappearance of the Island. This may be due to the constant eruption of Mount Cameroon and the tremors that accompanies these geological events –1982, 1999, 2000. Thus, it appears, there are multiple or a combination of reasons to explain this strange phenomenon. This intrigued my mind so I asked a man sitting next to my own table:

“Where is Bota Island that used to be seen from here?”

“It has disappeared into the sea”, he replied with a knack of confidence.

So what happened to the indigenes who used to live on the Island; and who came to the mainland by canoes? I requested to know.

When the sea covered the Island, the indigenes were evacuated to the mainland by the government was his answer. So, where they provided with accommodation and some kind of compensation to start a new life in the mainland? The man explained that all he knew was that they were evacuated from the Island and resettled on the mainland – Bota Land. Nevertheless, I could see a number of settlements just off the shore on the other side of down beach – houses that seemed to have been built recently; and which looked like those put up by the indigenes. Although the topography where these buildings stood was more elevated, they appeared to be dangerously close to the sea. Pointing to the direction of the settlement, I inquired:

“Who are those living in those houses on the hills just off the sea?”

They are the indigenes said my new acquaintance. Are they not conscious of the rising sea levels, I asked? He appeared to be surprised by my question. He took a sip of his beer, a bite of roasted fish and answered: The indigenes are mysterious in this respect. They have the power to control the sea and the wind. More importantly, they have the capabilities of bringing in the sea and the waves to attack their enemies. For example, they can call up the wind and destroy the property of those who steal their land and are unjust to them. In this process they will not be affected. How is that? Well, I cannot explain, he said. But we have known it to happen and it will happen again if they are cheated as is the case now – if it continues.

Now, tell me, I composed, I understand there was a raid in Down Beach; that Commandos arrived from the sea with speed boats, took over the banks here in Down Beach and then varnished into the Atlantic with a huge sum of money. Are you aware of that particularly audacious incident? My acquaintance seemed shaken. Nevertheless, he gathered himself and began to narrate what I came to consider as an outstandingly delivered oratory:

The Commandos arrived at Victoria a day before in Pajeros. They toured the City, looked around and visited all parts from Mile 4 to New Town. They appeared to have visited Down Beach as well were they had something to eat. Then we looked around but they had all but vanished. We just thought they were tourists who came to visit us. As many different people arrive at Victoria every year and century, we took no discernible notice. The next day, in the early hours of dawn we heard heavy Gun fire such as has never been heard in this city before. It appears those guns do not exist in Cameroon. They fired in the air for at least 2 hours. The entire Victoria was frightened. There were some citizens who had been out enjoying themselves that night and were caught up in the fire. The fire then intensified and we thought a huge war has arrived Victoria. By the turn of the day the entire Victoria was as quiet as a grave yard. Not a soul was seen. The Commandos then went inside the City and cut off Down Beach by blocking the entire Sappa at gun point while others advanced into down beach. I can’t actually say what happened next because every person was afraid and nobody came out.

Good, I said. But what did the Police and army do to stem or contain the Commandos? I asked.
He laughed, took one more sizeable sip of beer, put down his glass in a gentle bang. Again took a bite of his roasted fish, sighed and then answered with laughter:

The Police and the army put down their guns and ran.

You mean that the Police fled? I seek clarification.

Yes, they put down their weapons and away they ran.

So, it was everyman for himself then? I added rhetorically.

Everyman for himself, he exclaimed? Well, if you say so. All I know is that the army and police ran away for their dear lives.

Why was that? I questioned. My acquaintance was startled but gave this reply:

If you heard the sound of gun fire, you would not ask that question. Such a gun fire has never been heard in Cameroon. When they went to Down Beach to attack the banks, the security guards also ran away and vanished. So, it was not actually everyman for himself but no man for himself since the entire city was deafeningly silent and defenceless. In short, the Commandos could do what they liked. When they had finished their bank operation, they again fired into the air for another one hour spreading more terror with the deafeningly resounding sound. The sound could be heard as far as Tiko and the surrounding regions. They then jumped into their speed boats and disappeared into the Atlantic. After they had gun, the army made a futile attempt to pursue them but their endeavours came to nought: it was like chasing a darting shadow.

How many of them were involved in the operation? I investigated.

We can’t say for sure but reports say they were about thirty of them. Furthermore we saw what looked like fifteen to twenty strangers the day before when they “visited”.

I see. Thirty people taking over a city of about 100,000 people and nobody to defend. What about the Gendarmes in SONARA? They didn’t do anything? I pressed on with my questions.
He looked at me scornfully and said: I went there some time ago to seek employment but was greeted with scorn and arrogance by the guards at the gate. One of them demanded in French:

"Que-ce que vous voulez ici? "

“I am looking for a job here in SONARA,” he answered back

“Est-ce qu’il y ait quelqu’un ici, une connaissance alors?”

Before he could reply, the guard slammed the gates in his face, he narrated with the dejection of finality. This has been the case for the past thirty years, he complained bitterly. Anglophones have been discriminated from this state company for 30 years. As recently as about a few months back, they employed more that 20 people and never bothered to take in any inhabitant of the South West Region. Even inhabitants of Victoria were never considered; not even the indigenes of Victoria. Furthermore, there was a time when the company went to Francophone Cameroon and brought in Bassa indigenes from Edea and the surrounding areas of Douala to do the manual jobs here despite the fact that there is local labour here in Victoria. We understand that tribalism is the norm of the place.

We also understand that the Company pays its local taxes to Douala in the Francophone region rather than here in Victoria. We are really suffering Apartheid discrimination in this country just because we are Anglophones. The entire Victoria now is becoming a Francophone City. We are now strangers in our own land.

Now, do you have any qualifications that warrant you to work in SONARA, the refinery? I asked the acquaintance.

Yes, I did welding in OIC in Buea, he replied with pride. I have my certificate with me.

This is a snap shot of the sinisterly concocted discrimination that is being replicated in the entire Southern Cameroons by the installed junta in Yaoundé. Discrimination o f the Anglophones all over Cameroon and in walks of life is a policy that has been instituted since the plebiscite in 1961 when Southern Cameroonians freely voted to form a federation with French Cameroun. The entire international civil community must not allow the regime in Yaoundé to get away with these crimes against humanity. Only when this discrimination ends will Cameroon become the paradise it is supposed to be. At the moment, the human and natural resources, their energy, is being sapped, to fight against this ideological darkness.

Victoria, Buea, Tiko: The 2009 Trilogy of Diaries Part 2

Tiko Wharf in 1930: All Infrastructure has now been destroyed. (Wikipedia Common)

Louis Egbe Mbua

All the stories of football triumph and development in Tiko had been made known to all interested parties through the various media, especially the internet. Last Season’s outstanding achievement of that City’s exploits to top the Cameroon football Premier League Championship was an indication of the potential of that determined City. Although such an achievement came as a surprise to others, those who grew up in that coastal city were not the least surprised.

Football is only next to academics and religion in that city given that it is all played and nurtured at the primary school level at least when I was a boy; and that the first primary schools in Tiko were established by missionaries – Basel Mission School, now known as Presbyterian School Tiko Town; Roman Catholic Mission Boys School, now co-educational; Baptist School Tiko Town; and Our Lady’s Girls School Tiko Town, also now co-educational. The Cameroon Development Corporation also established a School in the Upper Costains CDC Quarters , North of the City: today called Government School Upper Costains; and then there was the Council School Motombolombo, Tiko Town, again now known as Government School Tiko Town. These schools were fierce and highly competitive contestants in both football and academics – football matches between these schools of adolescents were like war – Teachers fell out with themselves, pupils friends became enemies, parents refused to talk to each other; and friends became enemies for a short while as emotions went through the roof. It was clear that at least five students would emerge from these institutions to enter Sasse College each year—a no mean achievement given that that College was and still is the premier institution in Cameroon.

In the 1960s and 1970s, there were no secondary schools in Tiko to supplement the football skills of the youngsters or to absorb the fledgling academic talent of the new hopefuls; thus almost all the home grown players who were recruited from these primary schools at the time: Agbor Hans was only in Class seven and about 13 years of age when he played for CDC Football Club, Tiko against Cameroon National greats, Manga Oungene and Captain Mve. Others that may be named include Emaran and his brother, Mayama. This tradition, I assume continues. So, when I decided to visit Tiko this year, the place I grew up, one was expecting wonders in both social and infrastructural development.

As usual, I stopped at the Likomba Roundabout to socialise as it appears, from my observation, the entire Tiko business community has shifted their locations northwards from the sea coast. I was wondering why such a drastic move was of necessity. At any rate, I had some child hood friends who were passing by and immediately recognised me having a drink – Thank God, I have hardly changed all these years of absence – and came over for a good bonhomie of times past. After the mandatory niceties I began my incisive enquiries as to their well being and the progress of the City as well as the citizens.

“Now, where do you work?” I demanded of one of my childhood friends. He looked at me with bemusement; and replied apparently embarrassed: “I am not in employment”. This was a surprising answer as I am aware that this friend received a good and sound vocational education from the local leading Technical College at Ombe, Tiko; and that his father used to be in senior management with the Cameroon Development Corporation (CDC), mostly based in Tiko and Victoria.

Have you applied for work with the CDC? I continued. Well, yes, was his answer. I have applied, went for interviews with the company but never received a reply. So, did you find out what the results were? Did you go to the Head Office at Bota in person? I insistently inquired. He narrated that he had done so; and that he was promised, by the Bota men, a job with one of the factories but again they never came back to him. This is not right; I went on, as you are a Tiko citizen, born here. You have the priority: with your vocational education on your belt. How things have changed, I exclaimed. His face turned downcast, and immediately understood the problem; and so asked no further question on this matter r elating to him. However, I was concerned with one of our senior friends – a showman and professional welder educated at Ombe Technical College and who worked with the CDC in Tiko when I was just turning a teenager -- I had not seen him since arriving Cameroon. So the investigations went in this manner:

“Is Juvet still living in Tiko?” No, he no longer lives here.
It appears he is somewhere in Meanja, near Kumba, they said. Why? There was a serious crisis, they answered. Juvet worked hard and became a senior manager at the Tole Tea Estate and factory just off Buea. Nevertheless, when the CDC who owned Tole Tea Estate, sold the company fraudulently and corruptly, to Mr. Danupolo, he summarily dismissed Juvet without explanation and with no compensation and then replaced him by incompetent people from Douala and other areas of French East Cameroon. Juvet lost his job, his housing benefits and he became extremely desperate. We are not sure right now what he does for a living; or how he maintains his family. He is not the only one who suffered this cruelty. There are so many of them who went to work in Tole, from Tiko, and who are now out of work and desperate because of the corrupt situation of the circumstances.

A few moments later, my attention was drawn to a vehicle entering into the junction of an extremely tattered and overgrown, of what I considered a, path; not because the car was spectacularly attractive but that this was the oldest functioning vehicle I have ever seen in my entire life on this planet. The vehicle appeared to have been cut into two -- in the middle; and then rejoined by welding so that the entire vehicle looked like a sagging beam. Worse still, there was a driver in it! The driver waved to greet us; and we also waved back as is the Tiko tradition of geniality. After he had disappeared into the unkempt path, I decided to find out what this strange incident was all about.

Who is that man? I asked. Oh, he is one of us was the reply. Where is he heading to with that vehicle? Well, he appears to be heading towards the Tiko Airport they answered. I knew that the Tiko Airport was just behind us but not in my wildest dream would have expected myself not to have recognised that particular road leading to the airport -- now a tattered path; and why would such a vehicle be heading to the Tiko Airport in the first place. He is a contractor, they said. What kind of contract does he have with the Airport authorities? He may be supplying chemicals or transporting bananas, they added. I still couldn’t understand the logic. So I went further:

Do people sell bananas and chemicals at the Tiko Airport? My audience looked at me with extreme surprise. As I was about to pose the next question, the roaring sound of a plane was heard – surely a plane was taking off. Within seconds, a bright yellow aircraft was buzzing over our heads. Is that a commercial or a private aircraft, I questioned? No it isn’t; the aircraft is owned by Del Monte Corporation. They use it to spray bananas with insecticide chemicals and other Agricultural aspects. Now I see.

The Airport now is used by multinationals to obtain their profits while the inhabitants are jobless roaming about the streets with no money in their pockets; the evil that men do. As long as they obtain their profits, they could take off and land with their planes, but they have no interest in developing the infrastructure for the people. One now sees why President Chavez of Venezuela is so much against these kinds of exploitative multi-nationals. And furthermore, their actions are an environmental hazard. To be spraying chemicals in a densely populated City is not only unethical but may affect the health of the population. Of recent, a British Company was asked by the courts to pay compensation to victims in Ivory Coast, West Africa, after dumping dangerous chemicals in certain parts of that West African nation causing serious health problems to citizens. Del Monte works hand in gloves with the Cameroon Development Corporation, a company that was created by the British for the social development of the people of Southern Cameroons, while Southern Cameroons was a UN Trust Territory; but this peoples’ company is now working with the Cameroon regime to exploit the land which is legally owned by the indigenes -- the Bakweris. Despite the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights injunctions, they continue to work with the Biya Regime to redistribute lands illegally to administrative frauds; and refusing to pay rents for the exploited lands to the indigenes as prescribed by national and international law. Despite several appeals, they continue to violate the human rights of the natives who are the actual owners of the land. That is the lot of the inhabitants of Tiko and the native Bakweris. This is all happening in the eyes of certain sections of the international community ; and certain Cameroonians from the international community and the regime in Yaoundé; so turn a blind eye as they also may be profiting from this oppressive and corrupt system.

Having seen the deprivation with my own eyes, I never bothered to visit this airport as I had known it when I was a boy; and that it was of international standards, a busy and beautiful Airport that has been neglected to rot while the people wallow in abject poverty. I made a decision instead to visit the old Tiko Town. As we drove through the Long Street, I could noticed few changes as I fully recognised the land mark buildings – Airport Hotel, once the pride of the City—now a shadow of itself, no doubt due, partially, to the destruction of the Airport from whence the Hotel obtained its name, and most of its revenues in long gone golden years. The Junior Service CDC Club is still there, so as the Holforth Stadium where legendary Premiership and other epic football matches used to occur – also a neglected and sorry site. Went passed the CDC Camps, still there.
The Long Street Road to the Town is well tarred and maintained. Reached the Post Office and the Presbyterian Church – where a huge development appears to be in the making; and then met with a shock – the town is so deteriorated that I was lost for words. The roads in the town and the streets have so degenerated that a prose would not do to describe them. The Tiko Market, which used to be one of the renowned business exchange places in West Africa, is now but what one could see as a series of huts with little or no economic activity. As I sat down in front of the old Motor Park and saw the citizens and taxis dodging the accumulated rain water in the deep pot holes that pass for streets, I began to believe that there has been a premeditated plan by the regime in Yaoundé to run down this once thriving city.

"What about the Tiko Wharf?" Well, it no longer functions, I was informed tacitly.
Who exactly is the Mayor of this city? I demanded to know. The Mayor came from America. He brought money and promised to repair this city but so far he has done nothing:

I Devastation

A city was once the envy
Of all the working gentry
Is now like a zombie zone
Of mere man, rock, mud and stone
A depiction of a quiet war:
An impression of true woe
As the impostor the foe
Tries to a spirit destroy
The citizens now a toy
Of all that are a mindful dread:
The roads now a mud to tread
By a people despondent:
Holes the road once resplendent
With life, entrepreneurship,
And industry brought by ships
From all the distant, fine lands
Filled with exotic goods, bands
Of fiery sailors swoop the wharf;
Signs of joy as gentle waves warp
The ship with the gentle breeze
Caressing the quay, a kind of frieze
Of shores that twist to Atlantic
And enter the main Vic’ classic.

The City has gone eerie,
And no signs of the very
Narrow gauge of railways
That had citizens in convoys
Of four to five to and fro
The port to bureaus Afro’
Of now a lost hinterland
Where hovering choppers did land
And the planes droned in turns
In queues to land in turns;
To touch down the hard tarmac
At the Airport’s wonder track.
The track a land of flat runway,
Hardly the end was seen a way
For many a plane overtaken
With now a track so sunken:
The neglect now so all dark
And the Airport now so dank
Arraigned by a single yell’ craft
That Del Monte the company sprout
Use as a means to have a spray
Of a people’s fruits now astray,
And in the hands of outside firms
Who came from different farms?
But now claim the family silver
That took a time to deliver;
And another half a struggle
To get rid of them the tussle.

II Oppression

All they want now is pure love
As were times gone by to solve
The hideous problem a duty
All citizens in empathy,
But now reduced to mere rags
Of poverty, want of beggars;
The bounty of goods to sell
Is but a shadow of a spell
That befits the poltergeist ghost:
Not the kind and happy host.

And a man came from the East;
An idea did him pose a test:
“Here we are as close brothers
And we no longer have bothers
As long as we are free of borders
And a nation united in boulders.”
So the host not a slim ghost
Of now; the proposal in post
That was read in so good a faith
Like the son of the patriarch, Seth:
“Do I have trouble with you?
You are my brother of yore,
But we must renew, each year;
Our faith in the idea of yours”

III Bad Faith and Betrayal

The faith to be was of nought,
The boulders bulldozed the plot
From bad faith and to openly cheat
The denizens from their found treat,
And mortality was the city stalked
As activities les affaires stalled
By the Airport an end closure:
The boulder no shame in feature
But the tax collects the bully
And to hands join in grand folly
Of traitors, agents of oppression
All times a pretence of expression
But behind they do betray
For crumbs no one wants on tray
But a throw they wish of the grapes
That traitors use to spit on graves.

IV Hope

But in this theme is hidden hope
‘Cause people: not in slippery slope
Since they do work in prescience
So win a sort of resilience
That was found in last Apartheid;
Like the one which once existed
Before it was so badly crushed
By the Mighty Boulder plunged
Into the Ocean of Pacific
With the sound so specific
As was heard in fairly far India
Like a Tsunami from Ndian,
In Cameroon’s coast now in chains
By a cheating crowd with no brains.

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.

The Fire Hydrant

Louis Egbe Mbua

The furious rage
Exploded into a full
Blown passionate clash:
In the very hours of dawn
In Malibu’s calm beaches
With the one accused
Of fiery passionate
Forbidden lust
Avec Les Belles.

The other fuming
With fiery rage
Chasing the accused
Like a tempted Tigress
Burning with anger,
Consumed with human jealousy
To exact a perfect feline revenge
Only for her raging fire to be quenched
By the intervention of a fire hydrant;
And the uncontrollable lust of the chastised Tiger
Extinguished by a fire hydrant,
With the furious chase ending
At the tree next to the fire hydrant,
The fiery passion ended
A fire hydrant a hit;
And the heat of passion
A fire hydrant cooled
Like an antidote to lust
From a long love lost,
Gone cold,
As heat turns to cold
And events in time
A fire hydrant frozen

Living in the 21st Century (4): Wisdom Vs Intelligence

Louis Egbe Mbua

From experience, there is a vast gulf

That separates wisdom from pure

Intelligence: the ability to grasp ideas people propose;

But not necessarily having the ability to yourself propose.

All men are intelligent but wisdom is light.

Do all men see the light?


Not all ideas are sound; and these are normally proposed

By the unwise and mistaken: who may or may not be intelligent.

Wisdom, on the other hand, is the ability to understand

All things at once by the person: applied for the benefit of all men

And for the greater good of the wise and unwise: the same.


It is possible to be intelligent but unwise: the reverse is hardly true.

Wisdom is applied for the entire good;

But intelligence is normally applied for self-propagation & survival.

So, a society that dwells on intelligence alone will fail,

But that which applies wisdom will thrive and win.


A man who believes in hurting unarmed protesters or the reverse

For pretentious peaceful settlement is completely unwise.

An unwise man may misuse his intelligence to perpetrate this act

To maintain: the power of oppression over his own people.

Others may not seek power but a self-worshiping nature,

And hatred of others may corrupt their intelligence into this act.


So, studying and obtaining qualifications is fine,

But not the same as knowing and applying all things

By intuition for the benefit of man: which is, in effect, wisdom.

The society that wins is that which can identify the wise

And separate them from the unwisely intelligent

Since the intelligent also have a positive role in society.


A developed society must identify these roles and put structures

In place: to implement policies that keep them in check.

This is the meaning of accountability in advanced societies

Where everybody is accountable for their actions and sayings

So the wise may be separated from fools irrespective of intelligence.

As a result, the society progresses morally and socially:

Otherwise, is that society not doomed?