quam minimum credula postero

today took a long time. i was sleeping under a rough blanket because i put everything in the metal box. it was agreed that we'd take everything out of lebialem before the rains turned the roads into what makes ministers resign in disgust. at 5.40 am i woke up. by 7.40 we were in dschang at the bus station. as from this time a certain teenager was strutting around grabbing his crotch saying, a propos of nothing, chien vert, relishing the sound of his voice. he said it about 70 times in the intervening six hours. i was sitting on a bench with a sleeping grandmother whose foot was wrapped in a plastic bag. a young man gave her a bottle of guiness before she went to sleep. it was under the bench while she slept. the chien vert guy sat near to me when the bus left around two and kept saying chien vert until we got to bafoussam and he got off the bus. in bafia a young man suckling at a sachet of gold bond whisky tried to force the door open to get on the bus and the chargeur didn't let him. he kicked the bus. at one péage some ewondo kid selling chilled well water was yelling at me as we creeped by. i insulted him in nnwe and he laughed and told someone that i was speaking italian. i left my metal box somewhere in the courtyard once i reached the office in yaoundé around eight because i don't want to see it anymore.

i have a funny story to tell later.