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Titles:

"Like A Friend"

"Aime-Moi"

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"Aime-Moi"…

T H E V I D E O…….

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Titles:

"Broken-Heart"

"A Heart In Love"

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Volume 6 Nov. 2002

Turquoise (part 2)

It all started in that year of 1970. The weather, coinciding with the period of the so called long school recess, was hot and humid. The residents of the Douala city, my native city, were used to the burning heat of the daylight gem that would in its pick, soften in some spots, the asphalt on the tarred roads. Douala, nicknamed the Economic Capitol of Cameroon, not without good reasons. This city vibrated of its usual effervescence drawn from the gaiety and the joy of living of its inhabitants. The sunset, seen from the long side of the Wouri Bridge, always exerted its fascination on sensitive hearts like mine. An emotion, wrapping as well as almost nonchalant, too stereotyped perhaps, by its daily occurrences, had a hold on this laborious population, right from the dawn.

The tumult of this city was engraving its indelible mark on the psyche of the teenager I was becoming, through the means of a number of things, seemingly disconnected from one another. Those were for instance, the barking of a dog, followed later by the whistling of a joyous folk on his bicycle on his way to his job; or more over, the bickering in a group of friends punctuated by the "Ah dis-donc!" (1) and the "Ah toi aussi!" (2) and the "Ah laisse tomber!" (3); all superimposed on the horn sound of an express train on its Douala-Yaoundé route. The operators had learned overtime how to get the horn of the steal giant to execute a certain jingle well known to the population. A sort of a wink, mixture of a "farewell" and a "hello" to whomever heard it.

These things and many others, such as the good relationship I enjoyed with my childhood friends, had successfully instilled in me a deep fondness for this city…Douala… city of mine, backdrop to a happy childhood.

In that period of a long recess, my parents and my maternal uncles put together an idea: to have me continue my schooling over at my uncles', at the beginning of the next school year. I was to travel to a very distant town in the South of Cameroon: Ambam. I took the news with both enthusiasm and regret. Having already visited my uncles several times, I had no apprehension as to my immersion into my future environment; I however had a knot in my stomach at the idea of going away from Douala, for one…two, possibly several years. Everything fell into place fairly rapidly and I quickly found myself, some two weeks later, sitting in the train blasting its famous jingle. Destination Yaoundé…Then the rest of the trip was going to be done by bus, Ebolowa…and then Ambam. These were the important steps of my journey. I had the option to stop and relax at my parents' connections in Yaoundé and Ebolowa; that would bring the whole trip to a two or three day affair.

I arrived at Ambam, a small town with its reddish ground, welcomed with joy and curiosity. A City boy I was , in the eyes of those here, who had never traveled beyond Ebolowa. It only took me a short while to make new friends. They initiated me to their daily activities and I, in turn, gifted them with some of the curiosities of the games from my city.

So went on quickly, the remaining of the recess weeks. The back to school activities came right on with no problem. I was enrolled in a catholic school. Nothing gave rise to any hint of anything of importance about to occur in my existence, here in Ambam. Nothing seemed to be inscribed out of the ordinary. Nothing, absolutely nothing unveiled to me that I was in fact taking a step forward to a rendez-vous with destiny…mine.

And yet! A shiver crossed my whole body on that day…The school big bell had just rang the end of the school day and all the pupils were rushing out of their classrooms. My gaze met, almost by accident, Ayana's look…

A mysterious bird, animated by some sort of harmonic relation sang while flying in a circle above us. Was that an omen? A vibration seemed to have met another one; a piece of a puzzle seemed to fall into place. There, during a short moment that seemed to have lasted several minutes…there, I perceived a wave that was piercing its way into my being. Something was flowing through the channel of this black irised brown eye girl. There, a process started which, maturing later in age and intensity, had already committed, right there and then, into being with me at all time and space.

Ayana, a teacher's daughter, was both distinguished in her manners and discreet in her connections, something that conferred to her an intimidating and unapproachable impression. One could not say that she was haughty, precisely because of the exquisite smile her beautiful face let flourish, most of the time. There was however an aura of mystery and of a great sophistication around her that quickly disarmed the most daring of the boys who would venture into her conquest.

( To Be Continued…To Be Continued…To Be Continued…)

Jean-Pierre Simons

© 2002

Note: * (1) (2) (3) These expressions are almost impossible to adequately translate. They are French words used in the context of a typical Cameroonian environment. In Cameroon, there are two kinds of spoken French : the Real French and the Cameroonian French. The latter is sweeter for it allows the users to speak their maternal languages, with French words. The French syntax is totally obliterated sometimes. This is perhaps the genesis of the creation of a new language?…

(1) could translate into "Oh! Come on!"; (2) into " You are too much!" ; (3) into "Just let go!"

Note: The previous Newsletters can be read at the following address:

http://www.sighes.com/news_letters_lettres_publiees.htm

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