que lama las piedras

ibrahim's son sometimes sits there in his absence with that thin curved blade almost like a filet knife, the burglar-proof caging over the rusty barrel, and his little brother pushes the log in a bit more when he sees us coming up the road. there are the thin slices breaded with corn meal and maggi cube reheated and eaten with spicy oil and cumin, or the brisket kept warm wrapped in oil paper that you can always taste before buying. you want them to be almost too hot to touch, guaranteeing the many fly's eggs are destroyed, but not yet dried out. ibrahim says that bafoussam is better business for a butcher than his hometown of garoua in the sahel- the cool air makes it easier to preserve meat in a place where only beer is refrigerated.

this one guy came here after seven years in the business analysis consulting gig and has resolved to become the next jimmy buffet, stationed in limbe, recording flagrant jimmy buffet ripoffs translated into pidgin, only replacing the word margarita with sachet.

i have informally discovered that there are quite a few cognates between ghomala, spoken here, and ngwe, subject of the aforesaid sociolinguistic survey. they claim that the bangwe are descended from the peoples of the mbo forest, originally including the internet cafe i'm at right driven by famine, finding fertile soils and an excess of clouds. in grassfields languages the prefix 'ba' means "the people who,"

drinking my sachet...