april fool: part 2

4/1/2003:
i remember telling people that the most physically painful day of my life was the day i was medically evacuated. just last month. that has changed. that day is now the day i began, just began, to describe below. 4 hours later, i left for Bamenda. in terrible pain. every bump on that Wum-Bamenda road, i felt. i cursed. i cried. i prayed and prayed to pass out. to go into shock and pass out. pain. terrible pain. so much pain that i couldn’t even fear the consequences. that was too far off. down the road. a bad, bumpy bush-road, at that. i was focused on pain.

only 12 hours after i picked myself up off the ground and dusted myself off. only 12 hours after realizing that i’d broken something did i get some morphine. nothing else worked. only that killed the pain enough (enough... not all the way) to allow me to sleep.

it is now 10 days later. my left arm (my hand and elbow, to be exact) still hurts. i’m still popping pain killers. although not as strong or as comforting as morphine. i still have trouble falling asleep. and i have this cast, a full-arm cast (from just under my arm-pit to just below my fingers), that weighs a ton. like sleeping with a bag of bricks on top of you. my shoulder hurts. my fingers are still numb. everything takes twice as long with one hand and a cast. my neighbors are nice. they help me out. wash my clothes. clean my dishes. mop my floor. send me fufu. everyday. fufu. everyday. there is fufu in the kitchen now, as i write this.

but wait, it gets better. today, i gave 2 statements. 2 statements of what happened that particular day. one to the folks at Public Security. one to the folks @ Special Branch. why all the interest? i didn’t ask for an investigation. i didn’t report anything or anybody. i was just going to let this pass. it was all behind me. but now. now i’m in the middle of a mess. money was being chopped. people intimidated. bosses called. inquiries made. egos bruised. a mess. with me, my friend Muhammadu and this teenage dare-devil Kadze in the middle of it. but this is now way over our heads. bigger than us. yet we’re still in the middle of it.

april fool: part 1

4/1/2003:
in this town. on this hill. in the middle of this road... since the Germans first opened it. if not since the Lord first put it there. there has been this rock. right there. never moved. sometimes it’s been half-buried. sometimes only a small, small part is all you can see of it up above the road. but it’s there. and if you’re from this place. or if you’ve lived here a bit. or even just pass through on occasion, but use that road. then you know this rock. you know where it is.

now, why on one particular day. a bright, clear day. with this particular rock exposed a foot high, a foot wide and two feet long. with two clear and wide lanes to either side. without a vehicle or a person anywhere near this rock. why on this particular day, one particular teenage dare-devil moto-taxi decided to leave both the right side and the left side of the road wide open. decided to, quite cautiously and deliberately, drive this motorcycle (not his motorcycle) over this rock is beyond me. i don’t know???

i do know that i was sitting behind him. on my friend Muhammadu’s bike. taking all this in, in slow-motion. thinking, “he will soon shift. he will soon turn. he will soon stop. great! we’re air-borne.” then i am up on my feet. i am fine. i was wearing my helmet. but i cannot move my left arm. it hurts. it is broken. i know. what just happened? i don’t know??? was he sleeping? could it be? did he do this to hurt me? what in God’s name?...

i am pissed. he is there. writhing. clutching his head. should i go there? no... i am angry. i will beat him. i walk away. as always. i walk away. down the hill. toward where i was going. i run my errand. i must reach Bamenda now. then Yaounde for sure. i cannot believe this. i cannot believe this. my arm is broken. i just got back. i cannot believe this.