I haven't seen a huge amount of Cameroon's atttractions since I arrived here two months ago. We decide to rectify that somewhat by visiting Lake Kumba today. It's a minibus ride of just over an hour along exceptionally good roads. These roads clearly bring out the worst in drivers though, and the entire stretch is infamous for being something of a black spot. Indeed, C shows me the very corner one of her husbands was killed several years ago. We pass through several towns on the way to Kumba. They are all more traditional looking than Buea City, certainly all appear to have a slower pace of life. There are sheets and blankets sitting everywhere along the highway, all a sort of reddish brown. I later learn that this is Cocoa drying in the afternoon sun.
The first thing that strikes me when we enter Kumba is the brown mud dust that veils every single thing in the area- cars, houses, tourists, signs. This effect continues as we make our way out of the town centre in a taxi going to the lakeside. The road taking us to the lake is in complete disrepair, and our 15 year old Toyota is simply no match. Instead we walk the last stretch of the road through dense vegetation, listening to the sound of a nearby waterfall. Thankfully, the surrounding foliage is a fantastic sunscreen, protecting us from a fierce glow.
We round a corner and are afforded a quite brilliant view of the lake. I'm quite lucky as, gazing at the new scenary, I fail to notice a medium size green snake sunning itself on the track. Luckily, it slithers off before I have a chance to step on it and get bitten. All snakes in Cameroon are poisonous I am informed. I have no desire to test this theory out. We can just make out the other side of the lake through the haze, and a local african long boat is making its way off into the distance carrying villagers back home. These are the types of views that a camera will never do full justice to, but you always snap anyway in the hope that you might just get lucky. A sign says "Swim at your own risk- no lifeguards", but this clearly fails to mention the crocodiles.
We don't stay too long as we still have the journey back to make, and the day is wearing on. We arrive back at the bustling bus park, where traders are arguing over any available taxi to transport their goods-taxis appear in short supply in Kumba. We hop on our minibus, complete with a large motorbike and many sacks of food and travel bags on the roof rack. We take advantage of the local sellers, buying some food. I sit there with some boiled peanuts on my lap, with something that resembles a banana (plantain), but doesn't taste like one, and something that resembles a cooked plum (god knows), but doesn't taste like one. Yes, things in Africa are very different. Take nothing for granted!
We ultimately wait almost two hours in the vehicle for it to fill up, and several people consider a mutiny. Today is hot and stuffy and this weather is highly conducive in making people fractious. After several false alarms, we finally get going, making our way homeward. We pass the scene of an accident in the dark, involving a lorry and a car. There are no flames, but the smell of burning engines hangs very heavily in the air. No travel seat is ever empty in Africa, and where there should be three people, there will normally be four. Even with the windows open, the air feels very hot and very uncomfortable. I am pretty pleased when we make it back to Buea's bus park- Mile 17. Cooler fresh air is a perfect tonic.
Very little is done tonight other than eating dinner, and a bit of a reading. As I lay in bed, I make out the usual howling and barking of the town's population of dogs, who roam the streets at night time. Someone (perhaps a child) playfully tinkles the churchbell, though thankfully no more than that. It will be heard in all it's full glory soon enough.
The first thing that strikes me when we enter Kumba is the brown mud dust that veils every single thing in the area- cars, houses, tourists, signs. This effect continues as we make our way out of the town centre in a taxi going to the lakeside. The road taking us to the lake is in complete disrepair, and our 15 year old Toyota is simply no match. Instead we walk the last stretch of the road through dense vegetation, listening to the sound of a nearby waterfall. Thankfully, the surrounding foliage is a fantastic sunscreen, protecting us from a fierce glow.
We round a corner and are afforded a quite brilliant view of the lake. I'm quite lucky as, gazing at the new scenary, I fail to notice a medium size green snake sunning itself on the track. Luckily, it slithers off before I have a chance to step on it and get bitten. All snakes in Cameroon are poisonous I am informed. I have no desire to test this theory out. We can just make out the other side of the lake through the haze, and a local african long boat is making its way off into the distance carrying villagers back home. These are the types of views that a camera will never do full justice to, but you always snap anyway in the hope that you might just get lucky. A sign says "Swim at your own risk- no lifeguards", but this clearly fails to mention the crocodiles.
We don't stay too long as we still have the journey back to make, and the day is wearing on. We arrive back at the bustling bus park, where traders are arguing over any available taxi to transport their goods-taxis appear in short supply in Kumba. We hop on our minibus, complete with a large motorbike and many sacks of food and travel bags on the roof rack. We take advantage of the local sellers, buying some food. I sit there with some boiled peanuts on my lap, with something that resembles a banana (plantain), but doesn't taste like one, and something that resembles a cooked plum (god knows), but doesn't taste like one. Yes, things in Africa are very different. Take nothing for granted!
We ultimately wait almost two hours in the vehicle for it to fill up, and several people consider a mutiny. Today is hot and stuffy and this weather is highly conducive in making people fractious. After several false alarms, we finally get going, making our way homeward. We pass the scene of an accident in the dark, involving a lorry and a car. There are no flames, but the smell of burning engines hangs very heavily in the air. No travel seat is ever empty in Africa, and where there should be three people, there will normally be four. Even with the windows open, the air feels very hot and very uncomfortable. I am pretty pleased when we make it back to Buea's bus park- Mile 17. Cooler fresh air is a perfect tonic.
Very little is done tonight other than eating dinner, and a bit of a reading. As I lay in bed, I make out the usual howling and barking of the town's population of dogs, who roam the streets at night time. Someone (perhaps a child) playfully tinkles the churchbell, though thankfully no more than that. It will be heard in all it's full glory soon enough.
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