Can you tell me a bit about your view on elections in Cameroon?

Elections are prepared by the government, but you see that in Cameroon, there are no structures at all. ELECAM (the Cameroonian electoral commission) means nothing so far. ELECAM is just another wing of the CPDM (ruling party). All the officials and officers are CPDM people. We decry that out of twelve members of ELECAM, nine were directly members of the central committee. The provincial people in ELECAM are still all CPDM provincial executives, section presidents, CPDM, WPCM, this and that. So, the neutrality of the executive that’s choosing to do this is not guaranteed. If you look at it, in Santa, where I come from, I witnessed 5,000 fake names on electoral cards. I saw one of the boys buying votes. I went wild, and I had to punch him. I removed 80 something thousand in clean, bank notes.

You will see that, for instance, in the elections in Santa, the results took five days. They went and arrested my electoral chairman of Kumba. And he called, “Chairman, I have been arrested. What should I do?” You see, the method they used in rigging – they don’t even want a single ballot paper, but multiple sheets to make the counting even harder.

There was a year we had elections. We started at 8am. By 10am, Mr. Biya cancelled the elections.

What is your opinion on the government’s recent efforts to promote decentralization?

Every [local] council, whether CPDM or SDF, is directly under the helm of the central government. The only cure is either federalism or effective decentralization.

The people of the Northwest, for instance, they know that we have here, our budget. They know the contractors to whom they are giving the contracts. So when you decentralize this, you let the people of the different regions make the best decisions for themselves. Their own (government’s) decentralization is changing the names from provinces to regions. So how do you administer with this? Let the people sit in their own areas, their own local governments, and debate what they want to. Local councils would react faster to local accidents. So, you decentralize this, and let it go closer to the people. Let the people have a direct say.

We have tried centralization, the China model, and we’ve discovered that there’s a limit. We need a laissez-faire model.

Compared to the past, the SDF does not seem to be really preparing for the coming 2011 elections. Why is this?

So, we are not preparing our elections in 2011 because ELECAM is not put right. There is no proper system of registration. Because presently, Cameroonians have been disenfranchised. Even me. When they tell me to go register, how do I convince myself? They will tell you that your polling station is somewhere about two kilometers away. On the day of the election, the disabled people are not given an opportunity to go and vote. Even the domestic staff of the US Embassy, who are mostly Anglophones, never vote. So, how can I convince that person there to go and vote, to go register?

Even a CPDM Parliamentarian in Baffoussam said that elections cannot take place in Cameroon under this body. ELECAM is a brainchild of the Commonwealth. And they wanted ELECAM to be completely and truly neutral and independent. So that no party should have a representative at the polling station.

Can you tell me more about the electoral problems in Cameroon?

The first issue is at the level of registration. Local CPDM candidates know which quarters are SDF-prone. When people come from this quarter, they (the government) don’t register them. There is physical intimidation. It comes at the level of holding the payments of workers hostage. Then, secondly, it comes from CPDM resource persons. Everything is at the center. You either join the CPDM and cut your own cake, or join the SDF and starve.

There has been intimidation of SDF observers. Cases of multiple voting, using one envelope that contains 10 ballots. Instant ID cards given to Nigerians, which we actually caught. Also, only parties who are represented in Parliament get media time, and this is based on their proportion of seats.

I saw gendarmes with guns inside the polling stations. I had to personally see the gendarmes out. I saw the swapping of voter registers. In ’92 (referring to the disputed 1992 Cameroonian presidential elections, which many believed Fru Ndi actually won), almost all the army headquarters voted for the SDF. Now, you must show your ballots in the military before dropping them.

It was known since 1992 that parastatals (government-owned companies), directors of parastatals, government ministers, should use everything at their disposal to campaign. In fact right now, there is no difference between the government and the party, and the party and the government.

Our boycott in ’92 (referring to a boycott of French goods called by the SDF shortly after Fru Ndi lost in the controversial presidential election) was because we wanted legality. The fact that somebody wins does not mean that the person will deliver the goods.

ELECAM was set up from international pressure, from the Commonwealth, the British and American embassies, the United Nations. 10 members from around the country were appointed directly, and at the discretion of the president. Nine were from the CPDM central committee. They had no political experience, no administrative experience.

The SDF was given latitude for election observers, but can’t compete with the government’s resources. Civil society [in Cameroon] is often factious or bought off by the government. The international community must tie any help, anything, to free, fair elections, which will give room to governance, which will give room to development.

You can succeed in beating and in having your way some of the time, but not all of the time…When you bring up a criminal society, you should be prepared to face the consequences. Look at the double face of our government, or a government of mispriorities. We know the people who had organized this (protests after disputed 1992 election) – it was Fru Ndi! If Northwesterners could hold you hostage for 48 hours, then you better dialogue with them.

When these boys were rampaging (during the 2008 riots), I said I support the boys fighting for their rights. I was the only political leader taking that position. And you know, most francophone governments survive on lies. Blackmail. And that’s as I said before, the moment you make a man minister, he automatically becomes a mouthpiece of the area where they come from. So, we are talking of a government with misplaced priorities.  They don’t know what to do. And when they want to do it, they do it the wrong way. There is so much in this country that when you want to correct it, I don’t know. We just started, I don’t know if we’ll see the end of it.

In ’92, Cameroonians across the board voted for me. I even defeated him [Biya] in his presidential guard. I even defeated him in his own polling station, in Bastos (upmarket, posh area of Yaounde)!

These are the types of things we’re talking about. We’re talking of a ruthless country. And some of us have had it right here (points at head, probably referencing the time in 1991 when security forces shot him in the head with a rubber bullet during an SDF rally).

What about the reports of growing discord within your own party, especially with several long-serving SDF members recently resigning?

You cannot have a party with mass followership without problems. The problems people see are because we are trying to correct the ills of society. The problems that we have in the country, whether in Cameroon or other African countries, come from indiscipline. What’s killing us in Africa is indiscipline. Because that’s the head of state’s son. That’s this person. You should be able to discipline people.

The UPC, UNDP (Cameroonian political parties), and the like, these are surrogates of the government. It’s the SDF alone that is condemning ELECAM. No other political party is condemning ELECAM. We are not saying that we’re saints and angels, but please, people should be given an opportunity for alternatives. When we started out, we wanted a federal system of governance. Because if there’s any politician who’s toured Cameroon, it’s Fru Ndi! I’ve toured Cameroon at least fifteen times, and five of those times with my wife.

How large of a role does corruption play in Cameroon?

The present budget of Cameroon is about 2,700 billion (CFA, equivalent to about $5.5 billion). Just give 100 billion to each of the 10 states. They [the government] award contracts in Yaounde, to people they know in Yaounde. The beneficiaries of the contracts have no say. The SDF believes in participatory democracy, where the people have to participate in the government. Social democracy. The people should be working together. Most of those contractors in Yaounde don’t even have offices.

You see in the West Cameroon days, when we were still West Cameroonians, if they sold coffee for 500 francs per kilo, they paid the farmers 300, and with the [remaining] 200, they saved 100 francs in case of fluctuations. The other hundred francs, they used in awarding scholarships, and tarring roads. Now, at unification, they saw this money that was being saved for a rainy day. And always, they put somebody who can destroy money very well in charge. Mr. Biya just told you Cameroonians that he wants to tour the northwest. Every week different generals are coming here. Out-of-station allowance. Pocket allowance. Hotel bills at Ayaba (probably the nicest hotel in the Northwest Region).

The government is scared of efficiencies. They are suffocating leadership at the grassroots. At the end of the day, the government is not afraid of federalism, not of decentralization, but afraid of not controlling power. [In Cameroon,] you don’t grow by merit. You grow by fraud. You grow by compensation for the crimes you’ve committed.

 A couple other random tidbits:

“They (the government) say if the SDF wins, I will destroy your business. They wanted all the transport agencies to leave town, to the periphery. They gave special permission to Amour Mezam (popular Bamenda transport agency that travels to Douala, Yaounde, Buea, and Kumba, and other destinations) [to stay]. Mazi (another transport agency that plies the Bamenda-Baffoussam and Bamenda-Dschang routes) built [their station in town] themselves, and is the only agency that doesn’t disrupt vehicles on the road. If you tell them to leave the place, and I get up there it’s going to be bloody. Before they block the business, we’re gonna carry corpses. When we look at this, this is the politics we’re playing. Cameroon is a delicate state. Very delicate. But you get to the Francophone areas, the Bamileke man in the West cannot agree with the Bassa (ethnic group spread throughout the Center and Littoral Regions) man. With the northerners and these other people. The people that will hold them together are the Anglophones.”

“With the Francophones, before unification, if you just saw a gendarme’s cap, you just had to run.”

Nick and a couple of Fru Ndi's friends at the table after our long interview/conversation, preparing to gorge down on the best of Anglophone Cameroonian food.

Fru Ndi advisor, my coteacher/friend Mr. Awah, Kelly, and myself beside the Chairman himself.

50 years of Paix, Travail, Patrie (Peace, Work, Fatherland), according to the national motto.

Felicitations au Cameroun! Congratulations Cameroon! 50 years and a whopping 2 presidents later (take that term limits!), this West/Central African country, nicknamed “Africa in miniature,” has survived intact in a continent that has not been known to be kind to young nations.

50 years of increased sales for green, red, and yellow umbrellas! Especially at this market in Bangangte.

Okay, okay, I must satisfy my Anglophone neighbors and friends by noting that the formerly-British, Anglophone portion of Cameroon (2 of the 10 regions), was never technically independent itself, but joined the newly created Francophone state adjacent to it on October 1, 1961. This was after a UN referendum on its status whose choices were: join La Republique du Cameroun, newly freed from France a year earlier, or join Nigeria. For all you mathematicians out there, that’s two choices, not three. Those of you scratching you heads right now, I’ll help you out: noticeably absent was a choice on independence.

Let's be fair. Cameroon has been kind to this young Anglophone. He was able to fit bags of potatoes and random Chinese electronic imports (as well as 6 other Cameroonians) into this age-old passenger sedan.

Okay, so now I’ve appeased my English-speaking Cameroonian brothers and safeguarded the weekly lunches of corn fufu and vegetables (an Anglophone staple) that I kindly receive from my neighbors. But have I appeased the majority of Cameroonians? What does fifty sovereign years (at least politically; economically, that’s another story…) mean to them? Is it worth celebrating wildly? Or just mildly? Should I add another rhetorical question?

Because, let's face it: celebrating too hard can lead to non-celebratory outcomes, like this old wreck at a small gare routiere (taxi/bus station).

At first glance, the answer is an emphatic yes. I’m basing my response not on a finely-crafted investigation, which involves a silly, time-consuming concept known as “doing research,” but on watching Cameroon’s national pastime, which I can do while having a beer. No people, I’m not talking about football. I’m talking about marching. And not just any marching, but aggressively militant marching that I am certain is banned in several countries and loved by fascists worldwide, and which Cameroonians take up from a very early age.

Crowds gathered in Pyongyang, err... I mean, Dschang, to watch the 50th anniversary National Day celebrations, and waiting for another round of often frightening, military-style marching.

Every holiday in Cameroon, be it Youth Day or Women’s Day or Labor Day, prominently features loads of people parading down a street in front of government officials, important elites, and crowds of mesmerized people. Oooh, people wearing matching uniforms and marching in step!

I'm certain that these derangeurs (troublemakers) at my school, who've been sent to fetch water from our nearby pond as punishment, would rather be marching.

These events are as patriotic as one could imagine. Cameroonian flags are everywhere, special choirs are chosen to sing the national anthem, and every speech is jam-packed with official protocol, consisting of praising the work of the local government, the ruling RDPC/CPDM party, and “son excellence” himself, Le President of 28 years, Paul Biya.

More marching, this time by primary school teachers-in-training on Women's Day about a "block" from my house. The only thing that makes Cameroonian protocol somewhat bearable is taking intrusive photos of it.

And coverage of these events is gobbled up by the Cameroonian media, which, though freer than it was in the past, is still explicitly and implicitly regulated by the government. Last week’s death in prison of Bibi Ngota, a Cameroonian journalist, shows you that free-thinking reporters aren’t exactly loved by the politicians in power.

But downtown Yaounde, the seat of the government, looks so free!

Further, a few days ago during an African development conference in Yaounde, I witnessed live on TV a top UN official lambasting the continent’s vote-rigging and constitution-amending tyrants. Paul Biya was seated a few meters away. News like this raises eyebrows in most countries, but not a line of this not-so-hidden censure has been mentioned in any Cameroonian media source.

Another important news item utterly neglected by the Cameroonian press: the theft of my beloved flip flops at this waterfall near Kribi! Put down the peace sign, buddy. It was probably you.

And, to make it even more clear, here’s a line that I heard on National Day from a TV commentator in Douala covering, you guessed it, festive marching: “We are celebrating this day with the CPDM. The ruling party has said that all its militants should come out in numbers to give this event the quality it deserves.” And this wasn’t even CRTV, the government media outlet, but Canal 2, a supposedly private, independent channel!

Here's a real story for the Cameroonian press to report: Why are efficient, domestic private sector operations in Cameroon, such as this large tea plantation just outside of Dschang (thanks Mom for posing) so hard to find?

If you think this only extends to media companies, check out a text that I received soon afterwards on my Camtel (the government telcom company) phone: “Camtel congratulates the Cameroonian people and their illustrious leader for the celebration of the 50^th anniversaries.” Cue in Imperial March music and North Korean salutes.

Illustrious Leader, along with Illustrious Wife, Chantal Biya, 38 years his junior. I would write more, but I'm still mesmerized by her hair, as was apparently Mr. Biya.

So, I must refine my answer as to whether Cameroonians feel like going super hyphy for their nation’s 50^th anniversary: maybe. Because behind the widely-participated, widely-watched, and wildly-broadcasted pro-Cameroon celebrations, which often devolve into pro-governing party celebrations, is a tinge of coercion.

Coercion at its finest - kids being (usually) forced to work instead of going to school, like this young meat-seller in Bangangte.

Each town’s political and economic bigwigs must be there to visibly display affection for their motherland (and often publicly donate significant amounts of money to a local organization) or they will lose face within their community, and often lose face in the eyes of the government.

Chiefs, such as this one surrounded by his courtiers, also aren't exempt from the politics that surround every official celebration.

Each town’s RDPC/CPDM members must be there in party regalia and ready to cheer, or it can have drastic effects on your professional mobility, especially in a country where the biggest official employer is the civil service.

They're smiling and being loud now, but unfortunately for my kids, if they want to have a decent-paying job after they finish their schooling, it will most likely have to be with the already-bloated civil service.

Each town’s CRTV affiliate, whether radio, print, or television, must be there to cover the festivities and disseminate it that evening, often at the expense of other more pressing news (like this small news topic virtually ignored by CRTV and other Cameroonian media outlets), or risk having its editorial staff cut, or its journalists transferred or removed.

As somewhat interesting as some of these celebrations are, such as our Peace Corps Model School commencement ceremony (dutifully covered by the regional CRTV affiliate, most likely after some financial "motivation," as is usually the case), there are more important national and international stories to cover.

However, with that being said, Cameroon is by no means a police state. The mere fact that I can write a meekly critical blog post like this or engage in stimulating political discourse with my acquaintances without fearing any backlash says a little about the relative security of personal freedoms in this country, to a certain extent.

There are some freedoms here that definitely aren't present in the West, such as the freedom to herd cattle on auto routes, which often has the humorous effect of inhibiting the freedom of drivers.

And, it would be wrong of me not to mention the scores of truly patriotic Cameroonians of all political affiliations, all ethnic groups, all languages, and all religions who are incredibly devoted to and appreciative of their nation. A nation which, all politics aside, has done a remarkable job of remaining comparatively stable and peaceful (albeit really corrupt). Just google any of Cameroon’s neighbors (i.e. Nigeria, Chad, Central African Republic, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea) and you’ll know what I’m talking about.

If this Yaounde market mama was living in Nigeria, she'd be even more unenthusiastic.

So here’s a toast to Cameroon. Well, a Cameroonian toast, which consists not of champagne, but beer, the undisputed national drink. Did I mention that Cameroonians have the second highest rate of alcoholism in the world? More on that in a later post, after I celebrate the cinquaintanaire avec mes bilingues Cameroonian friends.

C'est tout!

When they work. Unlike these two vehicles blocking our path on a horrible road near Dschang.

“We [Cameroonians] can cultivate a large farm, only four people can do it. But you people [Americans] are too lazy to cultivate even you garden where you can eat some real ground plant. You people just wait for machines to do every thing for you.”

-One of my students writing to his/her pen pal in the U.S.

We Americans are too lazy.We're definitely not cultivating here.

Life, as Cameroonians will always remind you, “c’est pas facile.” Maybe I spoke a tad too soon about the comforts of my life. A belated welcome to the Dry Season.

Africans don't parse words. The Dry Season is exactly that: dry.

I mean, if you graphed the quality of my expat life on an axis along with that of the other Peace Corps volunteers here in Cameroon, there is little question – I’d be a standard deviation or so above the mean. Or, to make it clearer, if the former were represented by a Gaussian distribution, one can say with 95% confidence that my level of comfort lies on the far upper tail, with a low p-value. Glad I cleared that one up.

You can't argue with a math teacher. At least, my students can't.

It’s not that the dry season chez moi, in Dschang, is that much drier than in the U.S. On the contrary, summers in Tracy, California (that often push 115ºF) with virtually no moisture are climatically worse by any measure. But throw into the Cameroonian melange water shortages, dust that gets EVERYWHERE coupled with mostly untarred roads, slash and burn agricultural techniques, random garbage fires, and pollution-spewing vehicles that make Detroit look like Greenpeace headquarters, and this season suddenly becomes no easy task. And of course, I’ve chosen to complain incessantly about it, which means I’m very well integrated with my Cameroonian brethren.

Traffic in Yaounde. Definitely not Copenhagen-friendly.

Some of you might know that my mother recently visited me for two weeks, and was able to finally experience Africa in person. This was great news for me, because for almost the past four years, our telephone conversations while I was across the Atlantic went something like this:

Mom putting on a fake smile for the camera upon arrival, but inside she's scared.

Mom: Hi Kevin!

Me: Hi Mom!

Mom: How’re you doing?

Me: Fine. Life is just great here, and I’m enjoying myself.

Mom: Spray yourself with insecticide every time you go out because malaria kills millions of people in Africa! Watch everything you eat and drink because malnutrition and water-borne illnesses kill millions of people in Africa! Don’t you dare travel one mile outside of your house, because bandits and rebels and evil governments kill millions of people in Africa!

Come on Mom, crickets aren't too bad...

Now, thankfully, they’ve progressed:

My Mom and I have an understanding now. Although not about this background, which she totally chose, not me.

Mom: Hi Kevin!

Me: Hi Mom!

Mom: How’re you doing?

Me: Fine. Life is just great here, and I’m enjoying myself.

Mom: Honey, please don’t die of malaria, malnutrition, water-borne illnesses, bandits, rebels, or evil governments.

Another cute, family-album photo, and in front of some tropical scenery! I won't die Mom, I'll live!

Besides the fact that I’m very appreciative of linguistic etiquette, even though you will never find those two words used in conjunction in Cameroon (i.e. “Don-moi ça!” – “Give me, that!” – no “please” anywhere in sight), I’m confident the response time saved will be put to good use. Like scouring the State Department website for more heartwarming Africa travel advisories.

Well, to be fair, it's hard to be polite when you're packed 72,842,972 to a bush taxi. I'm sure that's State Department safe as well.

Anyways, as soon we returned from Yaounde and I had the pleasure of showing Mom my humble abode, the water was cut. For five days straight. Chez nous, in the U.S., water machines work. Always. Au Cameroun, especially in the dry season, they’re very sporadic. But, at the very least, we’ve learned to live with it and embrace the positives.

No water? No problem! Drink the next best thing, which, trust me, there is no shortage of in Cameroon.

For one, I don’t have to worry about tanning anymore. Dust hardens surprisingly quickly and leads to an excellent bronze, thank you very much Hawaiian Tropic. And no water to put in the water filter? No worries, my friend. It’s called natural weight loss due to water reduction, and judging by your Cameroonian, starch/fat-filled diet, you probably need it, fatty.

Water fufu, ero, and pork: my favorite Cameroonian dish. In all it's palm oil, MSG-filled Maggi cube, cholesterol, and starchy splendor.

Nevertheless, becoming sexy and thin doesn’t mean that you’ll be clean. Even if you’re lucky enough to wake up one morning and have water dripping down from the showerhead, what’s the point if within an hour of leaving your residence the delicious Cameroonian blend of dust and petrol fumes and incessant smoke (from firewood ovens or clearing land or burning garbage) envelopes you, and even, hold your breath my Cameroonian readers, your beautiful shoes!? To quote the most widely-used Cameroonian phrase, “on va faire  comment?” (direct translation: “How are we going to do?”).

Truly an uphill struggle. In spite of my attempts to become fully Cameroonian and polish my shoes each morning, the Dry Season comes out on top.

Answer?

Think washing your clothes (by hand, of course) will give them a cleanly respite from the all-encroaching dust/dirt/smoke? Think again.

Listen well and accept the words of wisdom of another one of my students.

Not my student, just a random Cameroonian palace child. Thought it was appropriate.

“To sum up and to be honest there is poverty in Cameroon and is going to kill many of us.”

"On va faire comment?"

C’est vraiment pas facile.