bus to Kribi

Our friends and coworkers Jeff and Christi, and their kids, invited us
to go to Kribi with them this week for a few days before their kids
start school again next week. Since they have an SUV that seats five,
and there were six of us total, Ann and I took the bus.

This was our second trip by bus here in Cameroon. I'm not sure whether
I described the experience before, but it's certainly noteworthy, coming
from an American perspective. Not unlike church and other scheduled
events here, the notion of a timetable for a bus is somewhat nebulous.
Our new house is about a mile from where the buses leave town to head
south, so we left the house about 815am to hike to the bus on
Wednesday. We had been told the buses left at 730, 930 and 1130, so by
9am we were seated in the bus, ticket in hand. It left, of course, when
it was full, in this case shortly before 11am.

And full, of course, is a relative term. It means something different
here. The bus itself had maybe six rows, plus the driver and a
passenger seat. Each row was what in the US would be a two-person seat
on one side of the aisle, a single seat on the other side, and a
fold-down jumpseat on the aisle itself. You can sit four people across
in a row like this, but snugly, especially if they have hand luggage, as
we did with our backpacks.

Here in Cameroon, perhaps in Africa in general from what I've heard,
this snug four-person row seats five people. The fifth guy, mercifully
not very big, plopped down on top of my legs and the guy to my right,
and wiggled a big until he was on the seat. I could feel our hip-bones
amiably grinding together. Later, the lurching, bouncing motion of the
bus, especially in the back where we happened to sit, settled everyone
in like a pile of beans in a sack.

Nobody minds this; it's perfectly normal here, and not an occasion for
complaint or aggression on anyone's part. People also accepted most of
the two-hour wait without comment or apparent discomfort, until near the
end, when a couple of cheerful younger guys started yelling for the
driver, whom (if my French is correct here) they accused of watching the
replay of the last night's Africa cup match on TV. (Cameroon lost, alas).

So, after a two-hour wait, our three-and-a-half-hour bus ride to Kribi
began. My backpack, a Java One bag from a few years ago, has a frame
and wheels, so it's not really suited to carrying on your lap for
several hours, especially full of clothing, toiletries, water, etc.
I'll buy a soft bag before the next trip to spare my legs. The ride was
lengthened by the occasional stop to let off a passenger before the
Kribi terminal, somewhere along the road. But there were no breaks
whatsoever; no stops to let people off to walk around or relieve
themselves. And nobody seemed to need it, judging by their
indifference. It was about seven hours between restrooms, but I was
ready for this after our last, somewhat shorter trip to Sangmelima last
month. I am now careful to dehydrate myself before bus trips so this
doesn't become excruciating.

It's all part of the experience here, like having your papers checked by
guys with assault rifles on your way home at night in a cab, or being
offered roasted civet cat for dinner, cooked by having the hair burned
off and then roasted. Normal seems very different here in some ways,
especially in terms of people's sense of time and personal space.

The thing that can make a bus trip like this comfortable for an American
unused to it is either Ann's solution, which is simply to be untroubled
and comfortable regardless of how different it is, or my solution, which
is a novel of a thousand pages, guaranteed not to run out while the trip
lasts. That, and making sure not to have more than one cup of coffee
beforehand.

We rode back with Jeff and Christi and the kids in their SUV. I curled
up in the back seat among the luggage and had a fine time chewing
through 200 or so pages of James Michener novel.

I'll put up a few pictures of the beach next week. As before, Kribi is
unbearably gorgeous, with Hawaii's climate, quiet places to stay right
next to the ocean, and the tastiest fish I've ever had, along with
shrimp, breadfruit, hot sauce and beer. We had a great time with
Christi, Jeff and their kids hanging out, eating, swimming, and playing
some of the games they brought. I'd do it all again in a minute.