Mefou Adventure
My roommate, her colleague and I decided to use the first weekend to go to Mefou National Park. So this strange picture- at least for locals- was painted: The whites were searching for a cab to go to a place no one of the drivers had ever heard of. O and the look on their faces when they realized we may be white- but not dumb. We would not let them rip us off. In the end we settled for the price we intended. We were happy and looking forward to the day. Slowly we drove out of the city with its endless traffic jams, booths of fruits and venders walking around between taxis. The drive was supposed to be about an hour or more. Though until we realized the driver had absolutely no idea where the national park was, we had driven an hour in the wrong direction. He drove us to the town of Mefou. Of course it totally makes sense to name a town and park the same even though they are far away from each other. I found it humorous that the driver asked about nine people. None of them knew the park. Yet, they pointed in a random direction. Another weird custom of Cameroon. I really don’t know if the people just really want to help and then give literally ANY direction even though they don’t know or they want to fool the foreign on purpose.
By the way, this all would have been easier if the internet network was available in the rural areas.
Finally we were on the right street. After a long while we almost missed our road. Luckily we were so alert now. "Road" was a little much. It was dirt between the bushes of the rainforest. One car could hardly pass, but it was a two way street. How we squeezed past another car without falling off the edge of the road will be the drivers forever secret. One thing I forgot to add is that we were in the rain season. Dirt became mud and driving became sliding. The driver tried out his best poker face while he threw the steering wheel from one side to the other. Often enough the car stood perpendicular to the street. Life at the limit were not tired to repeat.
