14 Feb Cameroon: The Far North

Although I am now in Namibia, I started writing this entry in Madrid, on a day like this, when I didn't even feel like going out for a glass of wine at El Lateral (remember that this is where your advertisement could go). Sometimes, on days like this, I get a bout of nostalgia and I start looking at African memories. Before, if some poor devil passed by the house, I would spend the afternoon telling him old African stories. Now it's easier for everyone, because I post them on my blog and you can escape with just one click.

So get ready, I am going to tell you about one of my trips to the Far North province of Cameroon,

This part of the world borders Nigeria and Chad across Lake Chad in an incredibly beautiful but very difficult to access area.

In the north of the country is the city of Kousseri, whose market I used to go to from Ndjamena to buy because the food looked better...

I was so used to crossing the border at Kousseri that I no longer stamped my entry into the country from Chad. On one of those days, I was with Chechu, who, to the surprise of the Chadians, had come for a bit of sightseeing (it's amazing that one of the most beautiful countries in the world has so little tourism).

I remember I said to him when we crossed the border: "Come on Chechu, I don't think nothing will happen if you don't stamp your entry into the country".

Once through Kousseri, you will come to Kalamalué Park. In this park it is very easy to come across numerous groups of elephants. The park is very small and can be walked through. We used to get quite close to the elephants, until one of them made a move to charge, warning us that this was our limit.

This photo was taken seconds before he rammed into us.

Further south, a couple of hours' drive away (if you don't drive) is Waza Park, the best in the country. There are no lions, but there are some, so I didn't see them, but I was lucky enough to see some giraffes racing our 4×4.

It is also easy to see groups of roan antelopes, like the ones in the photo.

Everything was going according to plan (this was easy because there were no plans...), well, everything was going well, which is no small thing...

We arrived at Lake Maga, on the Logone River, where we hired a boat from some fishermen who took us to see a huge colony of hippos.

Here it is worth seeing the Pouss market and the Musgum houses, which can be up to 10 metres high (I am referring to the houses, they are smaller). In this village there was something that looked like a huge pot, we didn't want to ask what it was for, nor what the menu of the day was, but we left quickly... just in case of mosquitoes.

From here to Maroua, the capital of the province, the road to Maroua is a short one if you go by road,

or a bit longer if you take one of my shortcuts, especially in the rainy season.

So we decided to take a shortcut, so we could see more villages, get a couple of punctures, run aground in the mud, wake up a whole musgum village to help us get the car out of the mud, run aground again, slide through the mud, etc etc etc.

We finally arrived in Maroua at two o'clock in the morning, only to be stopped by the police at a checkpoint at the entrance to the city. We were taken to the barracks and forced to spend the night.

All for not having the entry stamp in the passport, I told Chechu, what a mess...

As I did not want to stay in a Cameroonian prison and come out of it a virgin in the front and a martyr in the back, I agreed to give the policeman 50 euros for explanations, which convinced him to stamp us and let us leave.

Then we made a quick visit to the Mandara Mountains, as I wanted to meet the king of the village Oudjila, who had 49 wives and 112 children (he will have more now, as it has rained a lot since then).

Once we had ascertained that the aforementioned King was still a young man, we set off for the border, as we had to return home the following day.

It's not really a great story, but at least it has served to keep some of you from clicking until the end (because there is someone there, isn't there?).

And now I'll leave you, I'm going on a little run to make room for a Springbox sirloin steak at Joe's Beerhouse in WIndhoek. And then, as it's mandatory, I'll push it with a gin and tonic.

Oh, what a bitch of a life this is....