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la premiere est la plus jolie

We are all entertained by Jean. He came over and started discussing with us how crazy douala is and how it is an inferno of yelling. Baise ton chien...enfoirer en...va faire enculer...putain de merde! And no one gives a damn for anyone else even the pousse pousse boy can talk shit to the fat man in a land rover. His explanation that there are too many people in a small piece of land seems perfectly reasonable. He was pleased by the respectfulness of Anglophones when he first got here imitating how they bow their head and join hands whenever talking to a superior. He said it was nice at first but after three years he realizes that it is mostly false respect. We all agree douala is hot and hostile to strangers. Jean's anecdotes were most onomatopoeiic man douala is like then he imitates a car horn and goes to a string of expletives in French. Once we think we have resolved something he says that he wants to move back to douala as soon as he can because that is how he is used to living and he is lonely here, he feels intellectually reduced having to speak English all day. One sign I think he wrote at the SNEC office was like the decentralization of competency is an acceptable program which maximizes the value of services rendered to the customer. I don't feel so bad about some francophones making fun of a notice I wrote in French because it was probably like that: acceptable but clearly of foreign provenance.
Jean revealed that au fond he missed his girlfriend and son who are now in Douala then went to complain a bit about how she vexes with him and he can never figure out why then Ada facilitates a conversation on the differences between women and men, which is the best kind of conversation that a mixed-gender group can have and the subject of half of all comedy. To a man, every woman's opinion on the subject is important since they possess the expertise of being a woman and being able to observe men more impartially. The same for women. Jean used the phrase cunning questions to describe the kind of speech his girlfriend uses when he knows she is about to become angry with him.

i got quarters dimes and nickles

if ever i have a story in my head and i iron it out in the car the story becomes mostly about the car ride. last time the passengers were rioting because we had to get out on every hill (we are in the foothillls) since the motor was too weak. at three corners they all stormed out to the office and i saw my friend george who two times out of three is smoking menthol cigarettes at three corners and talking about his bamboo furniture business and ngo's. then i ate my buñuelos and beans and the car made it. this time the car was the one known to have the strongest motor of any battle torn minivan in lebialem but we drove into a ditch on the famous "bad part". don't worry the car was empty everyone gets out at the bad part. motoboy went and borrowed some pieces of timber and it took about seven of us to push the car sideways and it would have rolled down the hill without us. on the second attempt we were stuck in the middle of the road and motoboy started jacking it up after we rocked the car until the jack could slide under but he wanted to stop jacking saying something about the spring being broken. charles okara man was passing and offered me a ride but i said i had faith. the driver didn't like hearing clouds on a sunny day he went and jacked himself to the top and gunned the engine took up enough élan to slide down the hill almost into the ditch again and he disappeared. we heard the engine on the bush trail and decided he was desperate but he came out all right.
the real story i had was about my grandfather who once took a sack of hamburgers and held it out the window and loosened his grip and my success in business as a result of the same. also there was something about guinea pigs and a death celebration. that's why i'm in town in fact, i need to negotiate some 5cm x 5cm pieces of wood.

dinheiro e mulher, quanto mais voce tem, quanto mais voce quer

when i got back i realised i had been living as a slob. i cleaned off these doors in a pile lying on a floor in the kitchen and emptied a bottle of some miracle cure all i bought on a bus that was really just methyl acetate or something of that class and a mouse ran out. i hit it with a broom and it squeaked and ran away. i think it was a blind mouse or too fat or injured because it ran slowly with no purpose. i hit it three more times on the last time it was dead. i used the broom to sweep it out the door and thought how i'd killed an animal. mice carry disease. many kinds of animals carry disease.
when i saw jean he told me that i had become very fat. in lewoh the past three days i've eaten beans beans cabbage soup pepper soup and smoked antelope. also an omelette. here i don't have the same appetite. the food also tastes better in some way. it is a symbol for something in my mind that makes me comfortable to be here.
i showed to my friend in lewoh pictures of a drinking fountain, an interstate exchange in dallas, and a parking lot. he could not fathom what the fountain was and guessed that it was some sort of vehicle or computer; a wild guess, really. i said it dispensed drinking water and he turned the photo upside down asking if it was like that. the overpass in the highway he guessed was some kind of futuristic public housing project with each concrete column being somebody's house and a huge common roof. he was then very shocked when i said that none of the cars in the parking lot belonged to anyone who was notably rich.

all bets off

i said to duylinh that i was spoiled by the internet connection computers road safety customer service telephone networks food service hygiene she said no you're just being abused.

i finally got into the habit of carrying things on my head. i was carrying this suitcase on a muddy road in douala and everyone was yelling maybe at me. i stopped at the first bus with legroom that was going to bafoussam and got on. one thing you forget is that most poor countries are at least half children and the children clog up everything around the time school starts. children do not pay for public transportation so when children are involved the bus is more crowded and the mothers of these children have such huge asses from bearing all these children which is nice until you are sitting with four of them in a row of seats made for four people. some man was complaining about being sold a ticket to the wrong destination and he flipped. it would be ok to flip if you lived in a place where any bet was on. the women were screaming that we would all die if he caused the crash of the bus and the men were sitting quietly waiting until he crossed the line and would have to beat him unconscious and throw him in the gutter. no one wanted this to happen and women are sensationalists. well on an american airplane he would have ended up with like 15 years prison instead of 15 peoples' enmity. i think he had right to complain but i've learned that the customer is always wrong if it takes him disturbing 15 other customers to become right.

i would have made it to my first day of class like one third of the teachers but this time i'll have to be with the two thirds who likely have more frustrating circumstances than lost luggage and children clogging the bus system.