We are sooooooo powerful

(written by: Michael)

Perhaps we had a bit too much fun in Limbe, because waking up at 6AM as planned proved quite difficult. Of course, Vijay waking us up in the middle of the night and insisting that we go to our own hotel room (we ALREADY were in our own hotel room of course) didn’t help either. After a few expletives from Joel for having the gall to wake him up so early, we headed on our way, only about 30 min late. We had confirmed with several people the day before that the taxi to Buea, where the hike would start, should be $1000 a person. We stopped 4 different taxis and the cheapest any would go was $3000 per person. When we insisted on 1000 per person they told us to go to 1/2 mile and then offered us a ride there for 200 each. Deciding instead to walk to 1/2 mile (which we accurately guessed was 1/2 mile away) we spoke to a few other taxis, finally settling on 5000 ($12) for all of us. So we packed in the tiny car and started the 1000m assent to Buea, only to stop at what seemed like a random market 2 minutes later. This is a common occurrence here, taxi drivers running errands in the middle of a trip. It turned out though that he had to pay some fee for taking tourists to Buea, so he paid it and we continued. We passed a police checkpoint and was surprised to be pulled over. We were asked for our passports, which none of us had because we were not planning to leave the country and didn’t want to lose them in another car accident. The army officer seemed quite perplexed and continued to ask how we could possibly travel without any documents. I decided to get out and talk with him about our plans to hike the mountain, asking him if he had ever done it. After about 5 minutes, he decided to let us go on our way. We finally arrived in Buea, an hour late, and checked in for our climb. It was at the point that I realized I had left my boots in Douala so had nothing but my flip flops. Although I was assured by the porters that this was the best type of footwear for hiking a mountain, I decided to bite the bullet and rent some old boots.

We had no food and were quite hung over, not a good state to hike a mountain, so Charles, our guide, took us around to buy some food in the local market. We had no idea what to get and he wasn’t very helpful, so we purchased some bread, jam, peanut butter (yeah, that’s right, somewhat real peanut butter is available in rural Cameroon), ramen, fruit, biscuits (cookies), and a ton of water. We then loaded our daypacks, gave everything else to our porters and began our climb. Charles explained to us the history of the region. Apparently when the Germans colonized Cameroon in the late 19th century, they came to Buea seeking a cooler climate. They were dispelled by the indigenous people but returned 3 years later with a larger force and succeeded in taking the region. They built many of the nicer buildings that are still standing today. We then passed a prison that to our surprise had very jolly music coming from it. We were assured it was safe and headed into the jungle. The first part was easy, we passed strangler tree, large ant colonies (which Joel was obsessed with), yam farms, and a chameleon, making it to the first hut with no problem. The hut was fairly nice and reminded us of the Blair Witch Project a bit because there were many names written on the wall. It was also at this time that we realized the $20 tent that we rented was useless because we could sleep in the hut for free. We asked our guide why we needed a tent and he responded that he was also wondering why we had rented one. So basically we wasted $20 and our porters had to carry a tent up and down 3000 m. Oh well, back to the hike.

After a quick snack, we proceeded and soon passed the tree line and started hiking through the clouds. This is basically when it got difficult. From there it was a relentless steep slope for 1000m to hut 2. There was not really a path, it was basically just grass patches and loose rocks for 1000 meters. We finally came to a hut and started to celebrate, when we were informed by Charles that this was not hut 2, it was hut 1B. This hurt our spirit quite a bit but we pressed on. A little while later we caught up with the other party that left 2 hours before us. It is not that we were very fast, it was more that he was very slow. It was just one guy, a Welsh Indian man who we climbed the rest of the way to hut 2 with. He proceeded to tell us that we must be full of ourselves if we have an MBA, that Kotler did not come up with the 4 Ps or 3Cs, and that doing work for NGOs was totally useless because they are a waste of money. Needless to day, we were not liking our new friend very much. I am not sure if it was the unpleasant company or our hangovers, but the rest of the climb that day was the most difficult part for us. Every time we came to the top of a slope, it just revealed more mountain. Joel, who we thought would run up the mountain, was seriously struggling at this point. I think he needs more sleep to function than the rest of us, and perhaps he drunk a bit more the night before as well. We finally made it to hut 2 and immediately laid down, quite happy that our day's work was complete. At some point between hut 1B and hut 2, our porters, who left significantly after us in the morning, passed us by. That’s right, they were carrying all of our stuff, were wearing flip flops, and singing the whole way as they passed us up the mountain.

They were nice enough to start a fire for us and we decided to have some ramen. At this point they started cooking some local meal for themselves, which included a very hot pepper. We asked for a few for ourselves and I cut them up to put them in the ramen. This was a bad move. They were VERY hot. Although I was warned, I stupidly assumed it wouldn’t be that bad. To put their spice level in perspective, Vijay was even told that he should not touch "himself" after handling one of the peppers. So we started eating the ramen and could barely choke it down it was so hot. Then I was lucky enough to drink a whole piece of pepper. Instantly my nose clogged, my eyes watered, and even my ears were burning. I couldn’t breath because I was completely stuffed up. Worst of all, my runny nose was spicy and it was burning my upper lip. I doused my face with water a few times and we threw out the rest of the ramen. The Welsh guy offered us some leftover spaghetti and we gratefully accepted. Then I went into the "kitchen" (aka. A small hut with a fire in the middle) to hang out with the porters. Unfortunately a large amount of smoke went right into my eyes and I was completely blinded. My eyes were burning terribly. The other guys were in our "room" so I asked them to bring me some water and a t-shirt to wipe off my eyes. After about 10 minutes of rinsing them, I could finally keep my eyes open for more than 2 seconds. Needless to say, I was having a tough time at hut 2 and decided to call it a night.

We didn’t get much sleep though, because Vijay had decided not to bring his own sleeping bag and rented one from the tour company. Though we were told that it was from the German army and was very warm, apparently Germans like it quite a bit cooler than Vijay. He kept thrashing around all night and every time he did, I thought the whole hut would fall down. We woke up at 5 AM to continue our climb, which was another 1300 meters. Going very slowly we reached the top about 4 hours later, took some pictures, and then started our descent (we had to climb down all 3000 meters that day). At first, it seemed very easy compared to going up. Instead of losing your breath every 10 seconds, you did not get tired as all (as you go down, you get more oxygen, so you never get tired). We went all the way back to hut 2 basically without stopping and decided to make ramen for lunch. While we were cooking, we had a lively discussion with the porters. Topics covered their desire to marry a 55+ year old white woman, buying wives (a common practice here), divorce laws in the US (they were stunned to learn that women get half of everything), and finally hot dog eating contests. In general, Cameroonians are not very humble people. When I described to them the contest, they insisted they could win. I asked how many hot dogs they thought they could eat in 10 minutes and they responded about 12. I then told them that Kobayashi can heat 65 to which they immediately responded, confidently that they could eat 70. we finished our non-spicy ramen, packed our stuff, and headed on our way.

This is when it became difficult. From 2800 meters to the start of the rainforest (about 1000m), it is nothing but loose rocks. So every time you take a step, you feel like you will fall down. We all handled this differently. I decided to run down in sprints, figuring that since my feet are only on each part for a second, it doesn’t matter if the rock slips. This is a good strategy as long as you can slow down every so often. Joel went a bit slower, but still made good time. Vijay decided to be the most careful and chose every step, essentially moving at a crawl. Stopping briefly at hut 1b, Vijay mentioned that his legs were getting a bit wobbly. We then continued into the jungle, at which point Joel became a gazelle and flew to hut 1. I walked a bit slower, hanging out with the porters and singing songs. Vijay went down, still very slowly with Charles. The porters, Joel, and I waited for them to catch up at hut 1. We thought we were almost out, but we were wrong. There was still about 2-3 hours of hike in front of us. When Vijay arrived, he informed us that he could not feel his legs at all. We gave him the walking stick and offered help, but he didn’t want any (male pride I suppose). We then learned why everyone had warned us not to climb during rainy season. The remainder of the trail was slick rocks and mud. Joel and I went with the porters the rest of the way and continued our discussions about women, life, and hot dogs. We kept thinking we were almost done, but the train went on forever. At the bottom, one porter described to us how he has friends call him while he is on a date just to discuss large sums of money. Apparently Joel's friend in Chicago does the same thing. Apparently men use the same tricks all over the world.

Vijay finally arrived and we all (7 people) squeezed into a small taxi (2 porters were actually sitting in the trunk with the door open). We called Andre and he had his cousin pick us up and take us to a local restaurant. We had some dinner (Joel finally got his french fries) and the driver arrived to take us home. All in all, it was a great weekend. Our legs didn’t feel the same for about 5 days, but it was worth it. We wonder how much harder kili will be...

Video Recreation

(created by: Joel and Mike)

Since most people seem to be confused when we describe the accident to them, Joel and I decided to create a recreation of the accident. Yes, we still have a lot of enginerd in us...

Parlez-vous anglais? Yes!??! Woohoo!!!

(written by: Michael)

So less than a week after our brush with death, we decided to embark again to the other beach town, Limbe. Andre once again insisted that we take a driver and one of his vehicles instead of taking the bus. We were a little concerned about this, based on our last experience, but were assured that the buses were not safe and that we would be using his personal driver who would be very careful. So off we went!

The greatest thing about Limbe, is that it is within Anglophone Cameroon. Before leaving for Africa, we read that, much like confused Canada, parts of Cameroon speak English and parts speak French. Based solely on AGA's emails stating we didn't need French for the project, we assumed that everybody would be able to speak at least basic English. Boy were we wrong. It is impossible to get by here with only English. Luckily for us, Vijay speaks a fair amount of French (this, by the way, is a complete coincidence, the rest of were unaware he possessed that skill until we arrived). Thanks to him, we have been able to order food, talk to taxi drivers, and convince the people at the laundromat that it doesn’t matter how clean our clothes will be, we are not paying $70. Despite this, Joel and I have become quite tired of never understanding what is going on, so hooray for Limbe.

Because we also planned to climb Mt. Cameroon (the tallest peak in west Africa at 4100m) over the weekend, we left first thing Friday morning. Of course, any of you that know Joel and myself will understand that "first thing in the morning" is equivalent to noon. Arriving in Limbe around 2PM, I was very excited to be able to deal with the hotel staff directly. Their English was still not completely fluent, but after 3 weeks of complete confusion and asking Vijay 10,000 times "what's going on?" it was perfect. We checked into our room and then decided to walk around. We had not eaten yet so we headed for the fish market hoping to get food as good as last week. Instead we came away with average fish, overpriced shrimp, and DVDs that are only in French.

This probably needs a bit of explanation. Andre's house is very nice, but is in the burbs, so in the evenings, with crappy internet access, there is nothing to do. We have passed the time forcing Vijay to play card games with us (which he does very reluctantly). So when Victor, the local street DVD salesman at the fish market offered us our choice of hundreds of movies, we decided to purchase a few. Though I negotiated him down to half his original price, I found out later that this was still about 3 times too expensive. Oh well. After purchasing the DVDs, Joel noticed that some of them, including Lost and Prison Break, said on the label that they were in French. So I called Victor back over to trade for other DVDs. He assured me that they have both English and French and even promised that if they didn’t work, we could come back the next day and he would exchange them. Though I knew we would not be there the next day and that we had no computer with us to try them (we were not willing to risk our last working computer so we left it at Andre's), we were convinced. We were wrong. They are only in French and they don’t even have the English subtitles promised on the labels. Guess they will make nice presents for some of our French speaking friends…

So back to Limbe. After our lunch, we decided to head to the beach. Following the advice of our trusty Lonely Planet book, we found a moto-taxi (this is a guy with a motorcycle and you ride behind him, aka, riding bitch) and asked for a ride to Mile 8. To our surprise, his price was 1000 CFA per person, 10 times what Lonely Planet said it would be. We tried to negotiate and he was having none of it. I had encountered similar situations in my travels throughout Asia so I decided to walk away, hoping he would call us back. Well, this ain't Asia. Apparently he would prefer to lose a sale than give the correct price, go figure. So we decided to stop an actual taxi. We thought it would be 500 a person but he wanted to charge double. After speaking with 2 other taxis, we decided to eat the difference ($3) and get going. I rode shotgun so I asked the driver, after promising that we would pay 3000 no matter what, what the correct price should be. The only thing he would tell me is that on the way back, don’t pay more than 500 per person, but he insisted his price to the beach was correct.

After lunch, we took a taxi to the beach but were surprised to learn that some dude wanted to charge us 1500 CFA to enter. There was an official sign and everything, so I think that entrance was owned by a hotel. Anyway, less than 50 meters away (that’s right, I work in metric units now) there was a free entrance, we just had to cross some shallow water. So we went that way and walked along the beach (through the hotel owned part), which was pretty cool because the sand was completely black. In our mind, we kept thinking it should be muddy, but it wasn’t. We took turns swimming and riding the waves, which was awesome, and that was most likely the cleanest we had been in a month (cold showers do not a clean boy make). Then we decided to head for the Lava Flow. In 1999 there was a large eruption of Mt. Cameroon and the flow can still be seen all the way to the ocean. A random guy on the beach suggested it would be better to take a taxi than walk because it was getting late and there were "bandits." So we walked back to the road and talked to the first taxi, offering 500 CFA per person for the short trip. He said he wanted 1000 so we started walking. To our surprise, he let us walk about 5 minutes and then chased us down, offering the ride for 500. Good thing too, because the Lava Flow was several miles away. Arriving at the flow, some other guy wanted us to go into his house. We were quite reluctant but he showed us an official looking paper that had entrance fees. I was very excited to see a student discount only to be informed that this is only for Cameroonians. Oh well. We climbed around the flow for about 30 min and then decided to head back to town.

This time we caught a shared taxi and the price was correct, but Vijay and I had to share the front seat and Joel squeezed in the back with3 Cameroonians. The taxi drivers name was Devine and he was very excited to talk about nightclubs with us and wanted to meet up with us later. He told us about Limbe Palace and then dropped us off at our destination. We headed out for drinks and dinner. The place that we ended up going to was fairly good, except Joel was cravin some fry's and instead they brought us rice. We had a few beers (very large and highly potent ones) and than headed for the club around midnight. Some lovely young ladies were waiting outside and instantly tried to convince us to enter. They were not happy about Vijay or my flip flops but eventually got over it once we agreed to buy a bottle of Absolut. Vijay was smart enough to insist that we check out the place first, and after seeing it was totally empty, we decided to head elsewhere. We were assured that the reserved tag on every table was a sign of things to come but since we were waking up at 6 to climb a mountain, we decided not to take the chance. We headed to the bar near our hotel and the young ladies were nice enough to come with us. At the bar, we ran into Devine, so we sat down for a few drinks. The girls were unconvinced that we would return to the club, so after some pissy banter, they returned to their club. We had one more beer and than decided to call it a night. Devine was a bit disappointed that we weren't going to party with him, but he gave us his number and we headed for the hotel. All in all, a good day along the black sands of Limbe.

More Random Stuff...

· Everyone has an aftermarket stereo in their car.
· There are no windshields in Cameroon that are not cracked, even the expensive cars.
· Cameroonians can pile more people into a car or moto-taxi than any other country I’ve been to.
· Three lane roads don’t have an indicator as to which direction the center lane goes because it’s for both directions at the same time, it just depends on who’s there first.
· Train track crossings do not have guards or lights or anything to let you know there’s a train coming.
· People all walk along the highway. It’s to be expected I guess, but I’ve never been to a country where the best way to get somewhere is to walk on the shoulder of the biggest local highway.
· There’s basically no emission standard here, so despite being a relatively small city, there’s definitely days where there’s a haze of smog.
· I’ve had to explain the concept of volunteering more than three times now. I don’t think I’m doing a good job of it either, because people tend to look at me as though I’ve got some enormous bank account at home so I don’t need to get paid. Maybe it’s a cultural thing, but if you have a good idea of how to explain it, let me know.
· My dislike of bones has grown exponentially. I think this often happens when you get something like spaghetti and there’s fish and bones in it.
· There aren’t any multi-lane roads in the city. Basically all the streets look like they were sized for a neighborhood. In a city of 2M, this makes for perpetual traffic; which is nice.
· There are way too many luggage stores considering the disposable income of the people here. I can find a suitcase here easier than I can at O’Hare airport.

Are You Freaking Serious?

(Written by: Joel)

On Tuesday, two days after walking away from the most serious accident I have ever witnessed, we got in a car and drove 4 hours to Bafoussam to meet another AGA client. Oh yeah, we were happy. Windy mountain roads, speed bumps without warning, and some mint condition *cough* pavement? What’s not to like? I think what was particularly upsetting was that Flobert didn’t seem to understand our nervous behavior. We had to ask the driver to slow down twice (he was amazingly able to get a 1980’s Explorer up to 90 mph).

We were able to shake off our initial reaction to this by reminding ourselves that we were here to help, and this is what they needed for us to do. That said, we also didn’t keep our nervous ideas to ourselves.

Flobert: Are you nervous?
Joel: Yes. I was in a roll-over accident that nearly killed us and you’re going 50 mph on a dirt road in a beat up Ford. I’m nervous.

The new businesses are very interesting. We visited a palm plantation and a palm-oil refinery (palm oil is used for cooking, margarine, and is an ingredient in soap). The palm plantation is pretty cool, in large part because it’s located in the jungle. The road to get there wouldn’t be acceptable as a fire trail for any self-respecting state park, yet apparently there are oil tanker trucks that drive this every month. Luckily for us, this is likely also our last business to visit, so we should be able to start focusing on the numbers and presentation. We hope to be able to start showing it to PE firms and other interested parties next week.

The Day After Tomorrow

(Written by: Joel)
When we arrived home, Andre was understandably upset. His Mercedes’ headlights were cross-eyed, and he nearly had to explain three American deaths in Cameroon (which as I understand it, is particularly hard to do). Instead of yelling, which is definitely what I expected, he held his tongue in quite reflection and questioned the driver intensely. I don’t think he ever yelled, but his anger was very visible. After about an hour, he dismissed the driver and expressed his happiness that we were all okay. He told us to not worry about the car, and we all went to sleep.

The next day we spent most of the time trying to survey the damage to our belongings and replace as much as possible (new phone chargers, camera cords, laundry, etc). What was most interesting was seeing the car. It’s completely demolished.

That night we decided to give a gift to Andre. Andre has a tendency to “offer” friends a drink, and then re-offer until accepted, then fill glasses about five seconds after saying “when.” Since we know he is a big scotch drinker, we decided to give him a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. We’ve had it since Yaoundé, and we thought we’d show him that we were very glad we had a nice Mercedes to wreck, and that there was no hard feelings about his choice in driver.

Living in a Van Down by the River

(Written by: Joel)

Our driver Alain was nervous driving on the highway, and whenever a car would pass, we would drive a little bit on the shoulder, or sometimes a lot on the shoulder. This was making Mike very nervous. Vijay and I continued to assure him that the driver knew what he was doing (maybe there are a lot of drunk drivers, or maybe bandits try to tap you so that you pull over and then rob you). In the past, our initial reactions to driving were all wrong (it’s bad to hit a motorcycle; you shouldn’t drive on a sidewalk; you can’t back up into oncoming traffic without getting hit; looking both ways before you cross the street is important; etc). Unfortunately, Vijay and I were very wrong.

Alain was passing a truck (very common in this country), and gave the truck too much space so he was on the shoulder. This time was different because the dirt shoulder was turning into a paved shoulder ahead, and the paved road was 4 inches above the dirt shoulder. We all saw it coming, and Mike specifically screamed out “Shit, Look out!” It was too late; we hit the shoulder at 60+ mph, and completely lost control of the vehicle. The car then spun out, and then we rolled the car down the embankment, and landed in a stream.

Just make that clear, we spun out in a 360, then rolled the car so the roof was touching the ground, and ended up in a freakin’ stream, about 10 – 15 ft. below the original road, with the driver doors touching the ground.

After regaining my wits, I saw that I was in a pool of clear liquid and thought we might be in gasoline, but was quite relieved when I realized it was only water. Someone from outside screamed out something in French to which I angrily replied “I don’t speak any f---ing French!” They replied “Is anyone dead?” It’s the first, and hopefully the last, time I will ever hear that.

Mike was starting to get out of the car. Vijay looked okay, but was struggling with his seatbelt because he lost his glasses. Our driver Alain was okay too. It was a miracle, we were all okay. I screamed back “we are all okay.”

This is the most dangerous and massive accident any of us has ever been in, by a large margin. Luckily, all of us were wearing our seatbelts, which definitely saved our lives.

People who were helping us outside were already calling the ambulance because no one believed that in an accident that bad, there were no serious injuries. I unbuckled Vijay’s seatbelt, and we climbed out. After that we started fishing out all our belongings that we could find. My floating computer, Vijay’s submerged computer, my i-pod, a Teva sandal, one shoe, and a couple books (Vijay and Mike yelled at me for spending the time to get them, but for some reason I couldn’t let them go).

Trying to carry the worst of our stuff, we held hands and the locals led us through the 25’ wide stream (where my now 4-oz. shiny fishing lure/i-pod fell into the stream, never to be seen again by human eyes). Eventually, we all got back up to the road and double-checked for injuries: Vijay had a black eye and a bruised arm, Mike had bruise on his leg and he distinctly remembered his thumb nail bending the wrong way (for those of you who were on KWEST Croatia I’m hopeful we can add more to the lost-nail-club ranks!), I had a small cut on my nose, and Alain was completely healthy. We walked away from the worst car accident I’ve ever been in, or for that matter, actually witnessed, without a scratch. For those of you who are wondering what your next car to buy should be, I highly recommend the Mercedes C230 for safety.

The locals started going back to the stream to find our bags. Our bags had been in the trunk, which had essentially exploded, dumping our bags into the stream. Unfortunately for us, most of our bags were floating, so villagers had to hike downstream to find some of them.

Eventually, most of our bags were found and we started to wait for one of our local contacts to arrive and pick us up. We were somewhat worried because many of the villagers were becoming increasingly agitated about our continued dodging of their question as to how much we would compensate them for their help. It wasn’t that we were planning on holding back, they could have all the money on us (their help was worth much more than that), we were just worried that we wouldn’t have enough, and they could get angry. I think I explained at least ten times that we would give everything we had once our contact arrived, because “he would know what to do.”

Eventually Flobert showed up, surveyed the damage, and we gave him our money to distribute to the crowd. As it turns out, we were lucky that we waited, because they were rather upset we didn’t give them more.

Total Damage: black eye; bruised leg; bruised arm; cut nose; four bumped heads; Vijay’s bag of clothes; all of our dress clothes and shoes; Mike’s $1,000 camera; mike’s point-and-shoot-camera; two computers-now-paper-weights; one i-pod-now-future-archeological-find; and one Mercedes Benz.

Danger Close

(Written by: Joel)

Our temporary driver Alain noticed that our radiator was leaking on Sunday before we left. Instead of getting it repaired, we filled it with water and started driving home. After about an hour or so, Vijay noticed the temperature gauge was in the red, and we hadn’t been watching it closely enough. Luckily, we pulled over where there were some locals who were happy to help. After about a half an hour to let the car cool down, we added a bunch of water, bought a jug of water from them for $1.25 plus a 1.5L bottle of Coke-a-Cola.

After about another half an hour on the road, we were pulled over by a soldier who was upset that our registration and insurance stickers were out of date. He spent a lot of time looking into the car, and speaking in very rapid French to the driver. We were able to reach Andre, who is either a colonel or general in the military, and we handed the phone to the guard. I think it is safe to say his demeanor changed dramatically. Mike and Vijay convinced me it was a bad idea to take his picture, but it was pretty funny to see his expressions. So again we were on the road to Douala, this time with only 30 km away.

Motel 8 by the Ocean

(Written by: Joel)

After work on Friday, we went to spend the weekend at Kribi, a village about 2-3 hours southwest of Douala. We stayed at one of the nicer hotels, Framotel. It’s not quite as pimp as you’d think. The first room they showed us had one double bed and about a one foot perimeter around it for one of us to crash on the floor. It did have a nice t.v. though. When we told the front desk it was too small, they showed us a more suitable room, but they tried to charge us full price (it’s rainy season, so normally people get a discount). When we tried to negotiate, the desk reception just laughed at us. Again, it took a call to a native Cameroonian to help us out. This time it was Flobert who talked to the reception and helped us out.

We thought there’d be some night life in Kribi, but the place was pretty dead. It might be because we were out of season. That said, I was quite okay with that, considering that we were repeatedly warned that the ladies of the night were much more aggressive in Kribi.

Honestly there wasn’t all that much to report from Kribi. The biggest reason to go to Kribi is really for the food. The fish is spectacular. We found this great fish market via Lonely Planet. We’ve been having fish basically every day since we got here, and the fish was so good at this market that we went back the next day to eat there again. One of the fish market workers asked Vijay if we would like lunch “companions”, but that was the extent of any hooker-related shenanigans.

Surprisingly, time is not money

(Written by: Joel)

On Monday we went to Yaoundé to meet with a private equity firm here in Cameroon named CenaInvest. We also recently spoke with Business Partners (a South African PE firm), EMPEA, as well as the head of the investment promotional council. All the meetings went well, but some things here still remind us how different Cameroonian business practices are. The head of the investment promotional council told us that we would have to be patient because “time is not money in Cameroon.”

That said, I think we were all very excited to see the businesses themselves. I have to say that for the most part, I’m very impressed. So far we have been to see: a brick and roofing tile factory; a concrete manufacturer (incidentally owned by Andre, who is one of our hosts here), and a factory that makes foam for mattresses and chairs. The facilities themselves are quite impressive, often with relatively new equipment (on average 30-40 years-old, but with some very new 1-5 years-old equipment), though normally the automation is kept minimal (as you would expect). There’s also a lot less safety precautions than the US (which you would also expect, but for some reason I didn’t think it would be to this degree). Lastly, most companies seem very operations focused, which makes sense considering that many companies here have difficulty following through on their business plans.

Normally, the most challenging aspect of these businesses for us is their books. They are quite hard to decipher because not only are they in French, but the translations don’t often make sense (i.e. stocks is actually inventory, materials is equipment, etc). Just to make things interesting, the accounting rules here are significantly different, so we have to recalculate what we are looking for. All of this said, these are small problems that just require some effort from our group to fix. We are all still confident that we will make a significant impact while we are here.

Like camping with a roof

(Written by: Joel)

Most of the feedback on the blog so far has been that we’re living the high life and that it is likely that the three of us are getting soft. I can assure you that this is not the case. While we are definitely doing a whole lot better than the average Cameroonian, that doesn’t say all that much. The least you can do is meet us halfway.

First, most of the toilets don’t have seats, let alone lids. I’m not sure if it’s to prevent leaving-the-toilet-seat/lid-down related arguments, but for those of us used to them, it’s really hard to go back to squatting. Even the toilet at work and the one in the bathroom that Vijay and I share doesn’t have a seat.

I also have to admit that while I feel like I should be happy with any shower, taking cold showers in the morning sucks. It’s like waking up to an abusive bathroom. There have been quite a few days when I seriously debate whether to be clean or to be warm. The water isn’t a degree above freezing like it is at home, but I definitely can’t just sit under the shower head either.

Significantly more annoying than that is the inconsistency of the running water. At work, the water goes in and out, and when it’s out, you can’t go to the bathroom. So instead of going when we need to, we go when the water is running. I think the entire office thinks that we have dysentery because we check it so often.

We also have problems with the electricity. On Wednesday we lost electricity and had a candle light dinner. Even though it was very romantic, I don’t think Vijay appreciated my advances. The lights upstairs were working, so we asked the people at the house if they had an extra fuse. After they continued to ignore us, we decided to let them figure it out and go upstairs to enjoy the wonders of incandescent lighting.

We also have a few stowaways in our house. We’ve got some cockroaches to help clean up dinner in the kitchen (pictures spared for those who have weak stomachs). A really small mouse that makes some continual trips between the whiskey bar and the stereo (this guy is way to fast to catch on my camera). Lastly, there’s my roommate, a tiny lizard (I’m hoping to get photos of him soon).

Lately we’ve been making our own lunches. It’s amazing how expensive going out to eat is. It’s about 6-8 dollars a meal. So instead, we’ve been making sandwiches with stuff from the local market. It’s still not all that cheap, like it was when I was touring Europe. The prices are actually quite similar to Chicago, if not more expensive. I have absolutely no idea how anyone lives on a mere $2,000/yr.

Random Pics

(written by: Joel)

Okay, so I can’t help it, I need to share some random pics ‘cause I think they’re cool.

Mike found the perfect car for Karina, he thinks she should give up on the Mini and import one of these bad boys. I'm sure it comes in green and yellow, and if it doesnt, there must be custom paint shops in Atlanta.

Betty Boop's casino seemed oddly appropriate.

An ant the size of a freakin' quarter!

Some stores aren't even stores. Aside from carts on the street like many places, sometimes they just kid in a building without walls. This one is actually kind of a nice one compared to some of the others we've seen.









There are some stores, houses, and even restaurants made from old shipping containers. Very resourceful, yet it reminds me of playing in cardboard boxes when I was a kid.

What is it you would say ... ya do here?

(written by: Joel)

So what am I missing… oh yeah, the whole reason for coming to Cameroon, I suppose. So for those of you who aren’t up to speed, I’m out here with Michael Beckmann and Vijay Natarajan volunteering for an NGO. Our primary purpose while here is to help develop a pitch book for Laure to use to find a private equity partner. Generally speaking, microfinance helps individuals, and large banks tend to help multinational firms, but there aren’t a lot of credit options for small or medium sized businesses. In Cameroon now, there is only one private equity firm, which are companies that invest in small businesses, and is how some small and medium sized business gain capital in the US.

The three of us have been doing a ton of research trying to learn more about private equity and SMEs (small medium enterprise) in Africa. Now that we’re here, we’ve been spending a lot of time trying to set up meetings with key people here in Africa. We’ve had a couple supplementary phone interviews with PE (private equity) firms, but what is really getting us excited are meetings with local Cameroonians. So far we’ve been able to meet with the head of their investment promotion council, and two of the businesses that are looking for funding. I think our progress has been pretty good, but there’s still a lot to do, and we’ve only got three weeks left. Next week looks promising, but I’ll leave that until the next update.

I think I found my dad's 1982 Toyota Tercel stationwagon!

(Written by: Joel) So my first experience in Cameroon was a car accident. In my taxi from the airport, we hit a van in front of us at maybe 5-10 mph. You know, a little love tap. Apparently here, that signal is more of a “MOVE IT” similar to a honking the horn in Chicago. Honking your horn, on the other hand, communicates that I will be where you currently are in less than 3 seconds, so I advise you move out of the way. In fact our main contact Laure was in the cab with me, and she didn’t even notice. Horns are generally used more or less non-stop, and since there are no traffic rules or cops to enforce them, horns tend to be the only thing that lets other drivers know where you are (we’ve driven on sidewalks, through gas stations, etc so it’s important to let other people know you’re about to mow them down). Luckily since then, we haven’t hit anything, other than one motorcycle, and that driver only got a little cranky. Mike continues to ask if he can drive, but I think I’m quite okay with using the driver supplied for us.

Our driver’s name is Martin. He’s quite the expert at weaving through traffic, and the key is apparently to plan on hitting the other vehicles, including motorcycles. When they flinch, you can continue on your merry way. I think the biggest hurdle he has to overcome is the car he is driving has a horn that sounds like the Mr. Roger’s train whistle. It just isn’t very intimidating. I think we might send him a new horn that plays the Dukes of Hazzard when we get back home. This same car doesn’t have seat belt buckles (but really great seat belts), so I am unfortunately going to have to break my promise to my mom to always wear my seatbelt.

We’re staying in a beautiful house, owned by a friend of Laure’s named Andre. Fortunately for us, it’s not in the ex-pat area of Douala, so we get to see the real city. There’s a family living next door in roof-less house which was abandoned mid-construction 30 years ago when the French left. I think seeing that in the morning really puts life in perspective and adds quite a bit of incentive to do well on the project. By any standards of Cameroon, we’re living in the lap of luxury. We’ve got air-conditioning, a cook, our own rooms, and some internet access (though painfully slow and rather shaky).

We used to have one shower with hot water, but Mike and I forgot to turn off the hot water heater, so there was a minor explosion. We ended up breaking the only hot water heater in the house (and there are 4 bathrooms)! While I hate cold showers, I have to admit that it really speeds up getting ready in the morning.

Food here consists of a lot of fish, fruit some chicken and a little bit of vegetables. I interesting is that since nothing is processed, there tends to be quite a bit of bones. Not a big deal, but what’s different is I think you eat less because you get sick t’s weird how you notice certain things. One thing that has beenof picking out bones. ‘Yeah, I’m a little hungry, but maybe I’ll just have some rice or bread or something’.

Cereal is pretty uncommon around here, so when we asked for some, they didn’t give us any bowls to eat it in. We ended up using tea cups, and I think the tea added a little extra flavor.

Something that is pretty neat, but somewhat cheesy for me to take pictures of, is the way people here carry stuff on their heads. It’s amazing. They carry anything: wood, shoes, sandwiches, nuts, fruit, sunglasses, a display case for watches, dustpans. It’s actually incredibly impressive.

On Wednesday we tried to get our clothes cleaned. Our driver ended up taking us to a drycleaner, where we were told our total for 4 lbs. of clothes would be $68 USD! When we asked to get our clothes back, they just took them! Our driver then explained “Don’t worry, when we get back they will be very clean.” “It better come back in an f’ing platinum box for that price.” They didn’t seem to understand that response. It took a phone call to Laure to get them to release our clothes. People here assume that all white people are rich, so when we complain that it’s too expensive, they think we don’t understand the service will be good, or that we are overestimating the cost in USD. When we finally convince them that it really is too expensive they often look at us incredulously. You would think that prices here would be next to free, but this city is actually quite expensive. Gas, sodas, liquor, clothes and food are about the same price as the US or sometimes significantly more expensive. We probably spend about the same here as in Chicago, except we don’t have rent. I don’t know how anyone gets by here on $1,000/yr.

Friday I got my hair cut, and while that sounds somewhat trivial,
it’s a little unnerving waiting in line for a half hour while everyone else is getting a complete shave. Am I going to have any hair left
after this? I also noticed the barber didn’t have any scissors, and when he started to cut the top with the clippers (essentially combing my hair with a clipper), I was sufficiently afraid. All fears aside though, it came out pretty well.

Friday night was pretty cool too. Andre, our host, took us out to Orange Metallic, a local club here. The clubbing rules here are different. First, it’s like 80% women. Second, the super-huge bouncer that normally gets his ‘roid-rage on when you show up with a bunch of guys was happy to let us through without standing in any form of line. Lastly, a

nd I think this is probably the largest difference; a majority of the women are hookers. So for the first time in my life, a hooker tried to get me to agree to an equitable exchange. Stephanie was a lovely young woman, but, well, a bit aggressive. I tried to explain that I really didn’t want her services; I told her that I was with my boss, Laure; I tried to dodge by saying my friends need to help me get home, etc. She was having none of it. Again, I had to ask Laure to kindly help me, which was quite embarrassing. Luckily, I was the only one with a camera, so there isn’t any photographic evidence.