January 11, 2007

One dismaying side effect of the prison guard strike I wrote about last week is over 100 prisoners apparently escaped from the Yaoundé Central Prison, which houses the worst of the worst in the city as well as many less serious offenders – the jaywalkers, the ID-less and the public urinators. Actually, only not having an ID can get you arrested, if you can’t pay. If the other two were punishable offenses, I’d be The Fugitive. (Kidding, mostly.)

This does not mean that the worst of the worst escaped from the Yaoundé Central Prison, just that a small group of the over 4,000 prisoners got out. There have been reports of a bump in crime – I hesitate to say crime wave, as friends have described it – although it’s unclear whether the bump is simply an extension of the Christmas rush that usually happens around this time of year.

I’m not totally sure how the prisoners got out. Maybe the gendarmes and police didn’t get there fast enough. If that happened, then probably a lot more would have escaped. Cameroonians are quite industrious. It’s entirely possible that the escapees entered into some sort of agreement with the surrounding police where everybody, except victims, benefits. Have I mentioned that Cameroonians are quite industrious? One other option is the escapees simply slipped through during all the commotion. If I had to, I’d bet the third option.

While some of the increased criminal activity has been the usual for Yaoundé, there has been at least one deadly incident. Burglars murdered a French woman and injured her companion when she discovered them in her house. There were reports of thugs driving around pretending to be supervisors from one of the many private security agencies, attempting to get into an apartment building. Fortunately, the guard on duty didn’t recognize them and wouldn’t open the gate. He was pelted with stones, according to the report, until they were either chased away or gave up.

As I said, I’m not sure whether any of this is tied to the prison break. Only the murder stands out as something out of the ordinary, and that just seems to me like an extremely unfortunate case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The attempted break-in the guard stopped isn’t frequent, but it’s not uncommon either. Sometimes they’re even successful. Bandits will wait for someone to pull up in a car and then follow the car into the gate. We get regular security updates from the American Embassy, and once every couple of months a home invasion, attempted or successful, appears.

The other thing that makes me hesitate to call what’s happening in Yaoundé a crime wave is that the incidents are happening at night. If these sorts of things were happening in the middle of the afternoon, it would be a cause for serious concern. They’re not. We take very good care of ourselves, and will reevaluate our nighttime excursions as needed.

As you can imagine, I was totally calm, cool and collected after I read about the prison break and the potentially accompanying crime bump. I didn’t do anything like make sure the door was locked or think about never going outside again, except to go to the airport. Nope. Not me. Never.

Okay, maybe a little.

“Man, this hardly seems fair,” I said to Rebecca when we spoke on the phone a little while after I read the e-mails with the crime reports.

“What?”

“The prison break.”

“Well, the murder rate and crime rate are higher in New York.”

That’s a good point. The only quibble I had with that statement was the certainty with which it was said, but that’s only because I’ve never seen crime statistics for Cameroon and probably wouldn’t believe them anyway. One never trusts a number put forth by the Cameroonian government (or just about any government, including ours).

When we lived on 83rd Street, someone tried to push his way into our apartment as I closed the door. Fortunately, I knew he was there before he started to push. All those years forcing attackmen outweighing me by 50 pounds away from the goal came in handy. I’ve had my wallet and cell phone stolen from a gym locker in New York. We listened to a podcast the other night about a Park Slope writer who was shocked by being mugged in his island, um, neighborhood.

I feel safe on the streets here, especially during the day. One benefit of having a corrupt and slightly less than competent police force is that the public bands together. Bec says the same thing happened in Uzbekistan. When a known miscreant walked through the market, vendors would start yelling thief. I don’t think that happens here. In fact, Cameroonians have a worrying penchant for mob violence when dealing with thieves and other criminals. It’s not abnormal to hear of a suspected thief being cut to shreds by an angry crowd. I’m reasonably confident that a thief would suffer some horrible fate if he or she went after me in a crowded area.

Stop me if I told you this one before, but I think it’s a good example of what I’m talking about. My friend Blake was in an Internet café in Accra, Ghana’s capital, in the evening. In walked a man with a machete with the intention of robbing the café and everyone in the place. Recognizing this would be bad for business, the staff member at the front desk reached for the panic button – his very own machete. Other staff members pulled out machetes as well. They proceeded to chase the wanna-be thief out and down the street. The customers stayed and paid; whether out of fear or appreciation I can’t say. But do you see what I mean about people staying together?

At the same time, I also know stuff happens. To a certain extent, Bec and I and every other expatriate here is a target. We have a lot more than most Cameroonians (or Rwandans or Ghanaians or Ugandans). Usually what this means is that people try to sell us stuff we don’t want, or be our friends or ask us for stuff we can’t or won’t give. On rare occasions, it might mean something else. So if anyone wants the car or the money or the cell phone, they can have it. We’ll get another. Just stay calm, give up the item and get on with life. I think that’s the same everywhere, though, not something that is unique to most of Africa, especially Cameroon.

But getting back to the crime bump, I’ll concede that the crime rate is higher in New York. However, I guarantee that the prison break rate is far lower in New York.

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The only home invasion we’ve suffered came in the form of wildlife. Remember when I said that the only big animals we’ve seen since we’ve seen in Africa were cockroaches? Well, that was before we saw what we saw crawling around our bathroom the other night.

I was sitting on the couch in the living room while Bec was washing up in the bathroom.

“Umm, there’s a huge spider in the bathroom. I know it’s bad luck to kill them, but this is really big,” she said, gamely attempting to hold it together and her face covered in suds.

“Sure. Let me get the spray.”

I went in and didn’t see anything. I had my doubts about the size of this spider. Bec is one of the bravest people I know, but bugs and spiders aren’t her thing. We’ve set it up so that I take care of insects and the occasional arachnid, while she gets everything else. So that when there’s a cockroach, I usually kill it. When there’s a crocodile, Bec’s on it. This seems fair to me.

After we watched some TV, I went back into the bathroom. And then I saw it. I had never seen anything quite like this spider. I could clearly see the shape of its body – the bulbous rear, the small head, the bends in the legs – without bending over. The light brown markings on its dark brown back were visible. I swear I saw its mouth. To paraphrase George Costanza, it was 10 feet long if it was an inch.

I was afraid that one of us would get caught in the spider’s web and become dinner. I’m sure it could have taken Bec down in one bite. I’m a bit meatier. We were pretty sure it wasn’t poisonous because we didn’t remember reading about venomous spiders in Cameroon. At least that’s what we told ourselves.

Most importantly, something that big should be paying rent. But I was afraid to make the request.

So it had to be dealt with. I unloaded probably a quarter can of bug spray on the spider, and it kept moving. I was afraid that it was angry and advised Bec not to get up to pee in the middle of the night at any cost. We tucked our mosquito net tight to make sure it couldn’t get into the bed.

I’m pleased to report that it worked and we are safe. There was no spider attack over the course of the night, and we didn’t see any yesterday. Now let’s see if our luck holds.

January 8, 2007

I’ve wiped off the self-pity I was wallowing in, and after a long shower I’m ready to get started with enjoying what are probably my last two-and-a-half months in Cameroon.

It’s time to make an effort to see parts of the country I haven’t seen, and to meet people I haven’t met. I think I’ll enjoy this.

Of course, I still haven’t bought a plane ticket, so I reserve the right to change my mind.

Thank you for indulging me.

Just so no one is worried about me, here’s a link to something I contributed to the Sub-Saharan African Roundtable. It’s a more fleshed-out version of what I wrote about election reform in Cameroon. If you’re at all interested in Africa, you should check out the other stories here.

Before you read my post, Samuel Eto’o is Cameroon’s national football star. He is a striker for FC Barcelona and his face is everywhere here – on fabric patterns, on magazines, on advertisements. There are songs about him and he is always on television somewhere in the country. I just wanted everyone to get the reference.

And while I’m at it, here’s a link to an interesting Cameroonian blogger. If you want a much better understanding of life, politics and history in Cameroon than I can give, you’ve got to read Dibussi Tande. There is a far more informed critique of the penal procedure code I wrote about last week a few items in.

In other news, the technician was able to fix the transformer for our Game Cube. Only in the developing world would someone try cutting through the welded and bolted plastic cover to get at the delicate electrical components inside. That’s just what Desiree did, and it worked.

Unfortunately, within two minutes of plugging it in, the transformer buzzed, then smelled, then started to emit white smoke. So there goes that. I think the Game Cube is coming home with me. Bec will keep the Gameboy. We’re so mature.

January 3, 2007


Since this is my first post of the New Year, I figured I would give an update on reform efforts in Cameroon. And guess what. They’re encouraging.

The new Cameroonian penal code went into effect on New Year’s Day. Okay, is the yawn over? Get that last stretch out…OK…. Here we go.

I know, penal reform sounds incredibly boring. Every once in a while when someone describes the whole process to me, I feel like grabbing my pillow. But for thousands of Cameroonians languishing in criminally neglected and overcrowded jails, this is potentially huge news.

How bad are Cameroonian jails? Guards in several prisons around the country went on strike over the conditions last week, and they’re the ones in charge. The strike in Yaoundé ended violently yesterday, with gendarmes and police storming the city’s Central Prison to retake control from the prisoners. The gendarmes and police took the opportunity to beat up on the guards and arrest several of them. Two prisoners were killed.

The Cameroonian legal system was, like the rest of the country, divided between British and French until recently. Essentially, habeas corpus rights came into effect countrywide on Jan. 1. They had previously existed only in the Anglophone provinces, in penal codes modeled on British law, while in the Francophone provinces, the government could just hold a person until they got around to holding a trial, or the person paid a large “fee” to get out. This system was modeled on French law. Hey wait a minute. Isn’t France the country that says it’s the birthplace of human rights? I guess I can’t say anything, since the Bushies are doing their best to get rid of the sacred writ in the United States. You know, he’s making it really hard to ride my high horse.

But I digress.

Anyway, under the new penal code, a prisoner can petition to be let out of jail if their cases aren’t heard within a prescribed period of time. I’m not sure how long that is, but I am sure that it will mean people picked up for little things like not having their ID cards on them probably won’t be sitting in jail for months.

But as always, there’s a catch in Cameroon. In order for someone to benefit from their newly granted legal rights, they will have to get their documents from office to office in the Ministry of Justice and prison authority. As you can imagine, this is tough to do from inside prison. There aren’t enough lawyers in Cameroon to help out every prisoner, and none of the lawyers work pro bono anyway. Most of the prisoners are poor; otherwise they would have bought their way out already. CRS, I know, is working to set up a pro bono legal service to help prisoners. But that will take time. There is a danger that people will be stuck in prison unnecessarily even with this new law (actually, that’s a guarantee). But at least the new law is there, and there is a chance for people to exercise their rights.

The second reform is electoral reform. (Why does that sound like something from Passover?) I’ve written earlier about the election reform laws snaking their way through Cameroon’s parliament. Right before Christmas, Biya and his supporters submitted their own proposals for electoral reforms, including a new electoral commission. Except their idea was to just have the president appoint some people to a temporary commission with the chance for him to renew their posts if they do a good job.

That doesn’t sound very independent to me, and it didn’t to most Cameroonians. Parliamentarians, including some from Biya’s party, diplomats and the press all cried foul. What usually happens in a situation like this is that the government ignores the outcry and does whatever it wants. Hey, it’s worked so far.

But something different happened this time. Biya caved, albeit quietly. They submitted a new law with an independent electoral commission that will be in place prior to this spring’s parliamentary elections. Not many people heard about it.

So, does this mean freedom is on the march here in Cameroon? Maybe. Cameroonians will tell you that the government is extremely good at giving up just enough to look like it’s working towards reform while still maintaining its power and the status quo. It’s a shell game, and the government usually wins.

This give on electoral reform may be different, though, since some of Biya’s supporters went against the president. That the government hasn’t trumpeted its magnanimity also makes me think there’s a bit more to this change than the usual giving an inch, taking a mile. If they were so happy with what was accomplished, why didn’t the Cameroonian authorities make a big deal about the new law? They certainly were pleased to tell Cameroonians about the law they liked but failed. I doubt that there will be a speedy opening up of Cameroonian politics, but at least there’s movement.

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All of this political and penal news came a distant second in the minds of most Cameroonians this last week.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Cameroonians know how to party.

Our New Year’s weekend was tame. On Saturday we went to pick up a TV and DVD player. We got tired of watching movies on our computers, and we wanted to finally plug in our Game Cube.

We got home and plugged in the TV. That worked, no problem. Then we plugged in the DVD player. It played most of what we had, but two things it didn’t were Dodge ball and all the Star Wars movies. That’s a deal breaker, so yesterday we returned the cheap, Chinese knock-off Samsung and bought a more expensive real Samsung DVD player. Star Wars and Dodge ball, I am happy to report, are now watchable, although some might debate that about Star Wars Episodes I, II, and III.

Then we plugged in the Game Cube. We attached it to a power transformer, and then the transformer to a power regulator. We figured we were safe. I then popped in NHL 2005, and it appeared on the screen. Excitement ensued, although I smelled the end of my journalism career.

“Do you smell something burning?” Bec asked.

It’s not rare to smell things burning in Yaoundé. People are constantly burning their trash, even rubber. So I didn’t think anything of it.

“I think it’s coming from outside,” I said.

I walked out of the room for a second, and then back in. And then I heard a small . And then I saw the black smoke coming out of the Game Cube’s power cord. That’s that, although we think it’s only the cord and not the box. The Indian guys we bought our DVD and TV from seem to think that they know a technician in Yaoundé who can fix it. Developing world knowledge. It’s fantastic.

Bec and I and the Kribi crew went to our friend Jean-Baptiste’s house for a New Year’s lunch on Sunday. JB’s wife, Jacqueline, fixed a scrumptious and huge meal of traditional Cameroonian foods. We had fried chicken, beef brochettes, salad, potato soup, carrots, greens, two massive fish, pineapple cake and watermelon. I might be forgetting something, but my stomach sure wasn’t. But the company, as always, was the highlight. Actually, the rooster crowing angrily in the yard when the chicken was served may have been the highlight. It’s a tough call.

Bec and I then spent New Year’s Eve playing board games at the house of her boss, Jennifer. At midnight, and this is where the knowing how to have a good time comes in, fireworks shot up in the distance, over the Nlongkak traffic circle. It was actually quite beautiful. We could see them from the verandah. Apparently, there were small displays like that all around Yaoundé, sponsored by the government. And Cameroonians were out dancing until 10 the next morning.

I know, bread and circuses. But what’s wrong with people having a good time every once in a while?

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Finally, a new year brings many changes. And a big one is coming for me.

Wow, who knew this would be hard to write? I always thought I'd look forward to say what I'm about to say, but I can't say I am.

It looks like I’m coming home in March, around St. Patrick’s Day, tail firmly planted between legs.

I’ve started to feel like my career is stalled, and I’m afraid that if I don’t do something to give it a jumpstart, I might permanently damage it. So I’m looking for wire service or newspaper jobs in New York and Washington, D.C.

There are many reasons why it’s difficult for me to write these words. First off, I told Bec that I’d be with her wherever she went. I also guaranteed I’d be in Cameroon for as long as her appointment goes. And I’m falling back on my word. In the long run, this is better. Publishing a story or two per month, I’m told, is pretty successful for someone living in backwaters like Rwanda and Cameroon. It just doesn’t feel that way. There are too many days where I feel like there’s nothing in front of me, and I don’t function well like that.

Next time we go abroad, and it’s going to happen, we both need to be working, and feeling like we’re being productive. I’ve always wanted to be a foreign correspondent, and that’s not going to change. But I don’t think I want to freelance anymore.

Second, I don’t like the idea of leaving Rebecca behind. She’s not coming back with me, and we don’t know when we’ll be together again. She’s got some work that she needs to finish here, and that could take awhile. As much as I need to jumpstart my career, she needs to keep working on hers. We need to get ourselves to similar levels, and this is probably the best, if most painful, way.

I keep thinking about how hard it’ll be for her to wake up one day and not find my stuff in the closet, and then come home to an empty house. I don’t like the idea of leaving her alone. It’s no fun, and will be extremely difficult. I feel like I’m abandoning her. At least going back to New York, I’ll have a lot of people there that I care about. Please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s not quite the same.

Bec feels guilty about the whole thing, which is just silly. I chose to come with her to Rwanda and Cameroon. I don’t think I evaluated the risks well, but that’s my fault. Everything I’ve accomplished here – and I recognize it has been a lot – is because of her. So she shouldn’t feel guilty at all. I feel indebted to her. In fact, I feel like I'm not tough enough to carry on here, and that doesn't feel good. This is all on me.

Third, I feel like I’ve lost. I’ve given freelancing my best shot, and I wanted to do it longer. When we came back from New York, I thought I’d make it to May and then reassess. But I don’t think I can. There are days when I feel like Sisyphus, and there are days where I feel like Indiana Jones. Except even on a lot of days when I feel like Indiana Jones, the giant stone ball crushes me. I thought freelancing would be easier, and if it wasn’t, I was good enough to make these countries interesting to editors. I was wrong, and losing is no fun.

Finally, I actually quite like Cameroon. We live comfortably in a comfortable place. We have Cameroonian friends I think the world of. The weather right now is gorgeous, cool, dry and sunny. It’s a shame I couldn’t generate more interest in Cameroon, but the country’s not bleeding, so it’s not leading.

Enough self-pity. This is the way it’s most likely going to be, and as much as it pains me to make this decision, in the long run it’s for the best.

So, why am I coming back on St. Patrick’s Day?

Well, I like Cameroon and don’t want to leave just yet, mostly. There are many places I want to go and things I want to do. Also, why go back early in the winter? Why not wait until spring is right around the corner? The hockey playoffs will be just around the corner also.

Most importantly, though, I want a freakin’ parade. So Maura, Kelly, anyone else with connections, get on the phone with Ancient Order of Hibernians. Tell them there’s a new grand marshal this year.

This decision does not mean I’ve stopped trying to make this work. I’m still writing for the Catholics (in fact, here’s a story I wrote last week Who’s this Catholic News Service guy?), and will have a pitch out to a major American paper tomorrow on the penal reform.

I haven’t bought a ticket yet, and plans could change. I could have a job earlier and leave earlier. Or a very preliminary discussion I’ve had could turn into a stringing relationship, and I could stay longer. Who knows?

But it looks much more like I’ll be back in March. Get the green beer ready.