20th Stop - Douala, Cameroon

Avoid the equator during the rainy season

I started to worry at the airport, “What if they realize I left my car here? Will they prevent me from leaving?” No problems, made it through customs. I think I was having another bout of good luck, this time brought on by greeting everyone with “salem alikum” and a smile. I even got an exit window seat on the plane to Douala.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I got to the airport. Germain from JCI Cameroon had helped me make a hotel reservation for my visa back in May. But I was showing up earlier and really hoped to stay with and meet some JCI members. So a week ago, I sent a message to Roland Kweiman, this year’s JCI world president who is from Cameroon and told him about my project. He initiated a chain reaction of email forwards until Ghislain, a local president in Douala offered to host me. This chain reaction took some time and nothing got nailed down before I got on the plane, meaning I didn’t have Ghislain’s number nor address and had no idea how to find him once I got there. Stay positive, right?

I got my bags and made it through customs without having to pay an “expedited” service charge to a local entrepreneur whose brother or sister works as a customs officer. It was 5:30 in the morning and when I got out to the taxis and didn’t see anyone holding a sign with my name on it, I started to think about what to do next. Just then, someone approached me, “Are you John?” Yes! Thank you ever so much Ghislain for coming to the airport to meet me! It turns out, Ghislain had been there since 2 am and had no idea what I looked like. When my plane arrived, he saw looking a little dazed and confused and when I looked closely at the sign someone was holding, he said to himself, that must be him.

We took a taxi back to his place and as I put my things down, Ghislain asked, “Do you play ball?” Meaning football, or soccer. Of course I do. “Great, we got a game going in less than an hour, get laced up!”

Generally 2, sometimes 3 per bike

We hopped on some motor bikes and went to the soccer field. Ghislain plays with the Veterans, an older men’s league for locals from the same neighborhood. This league is actually an association of about 40 members who play against each other every Sunday. There was a great warm-up and stretching that reminded of high school soccer days. We played for a couple of hours, then went for a lunch of hare, chicken, rice, and macuba with Hervé and Achilles. The food was delicious.

Our day with the Veterans had just begun, however. After lunch, we went to the réfuge, or clubhouse, to talk about the game and other pressing issues the association had to deal with. Oh, and sing a modified version of the Marseillaise and drink some beers (Allons enfants des brasseries / Le temps de boire est arrivé / Nous buvons jusqu’à la dérive / Nous buvons jusqu’à la dérive / Le temps de boire est arrivé / Le temps de boire est arrivé / Buvons... Chantons / Jusqu’au matin / Le temps de boire est arrivé...). After a while of listening to everyone discuss health insurance issues, it became clear that the Veterans could benefit from a training on parliamentary procedure. This would help them take democratic decisions in a timely and efficient manner. I proposed a resolution to do this training with Ghislain next week and it was unanimously approved... Rendez-vous next week for more soccer, training, singing, and drinking!

Les Amis du Dimanche

The general meeting ended around 3 pm, so we went back home, showered up and went into town for another meeting. This time with the Amis du Dimanche (Sunday Friends). This is another association similar to the Veterans but whose main function is to provide solidarity among members in times of need. Every week, members meet and pay dues. Then they discuss what is going on in the neighborhood and how they can help each other. They also share a meal and drink together. I told everyone about why I was in Douala and they were very happy to hear about what I was doing to help fight malaria.

After the meal, we excused ourselves to go to Ghislain’s mother-in-law’s home. She lost her husband last year and the entire family was there for the one-year anniversary of his death. My sincerest condolences to her, Annie, Ghislain’s wife, and the rest of their family.

Storytelling with the Amis du Dimanche

It was getting late and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep my eyes open. We took motorbikes to the main road, then got in a cab and I fell promptly asleep. I didn’t even realize when Ghislain stopped to buy some fish for dinner. We also got some insecticide to spray around the apartment. Hopefully, this will keep the mosquitos at bay until I get my hands on some anti-malarial medication.

One last delicious fish meal with fried plantains and it was time to hit the sack.

To be continued...

19th Stop - Casablanca, part 2

On Thursday, we drove out past the Corniche for an afternoon at the beach. We got there kind of late and didn’t get as close to the water as we would have liked because all of the tables were taken. This actually was to our advantage. After an hour or so, the tide came in and surprised the hell out of everyone right up close to the water, washing away sandals, food, bottles and other beach goodies. In the end, we had some prime seafront property, until the tide rose even further and Nezha got trapped on a chair!

That night, I had invited my Moroccan colleagues for a meeting at the Scala Café to discuss corporate social responsibility. Thanks to Nezha, a JCI member from Tunisia, and Nezha’s friend Ichrak for coming. We listened to some great live Moroccan music while we spoke about CSR.

Time to get clean, time for a hammam. I worked on planning the next legs of my tour for most of the day, then went to the Pacha for a full body scrub and relaxing massage. I highly recommend the Pacha. Everyone was very friendly, it was clean, and parking was easy. Hammam’s are great, you go into the steam room for 15 minutes or so, then come out and someone scraps all of the dead skin off of your body using a coarse washing glove. Then a shower, followed by a relaxing massage with argan oil.

Last day in Morocco, we decided to take advantage of our Saturday to go on a hike in the Beskoura forest. After our walk, we picked up the business cards I had made. Thanks Nezha for helping find the right people to do this! If you’re in Casa and need some printing done, be sure to contact Mostafa Drissi from Imprimerie Dima Press (dimapress@gmail.com or 0654 142 184). We had just enough time to stop in at the high-tech piracy hub of Morocco called Derb Ghallef to get my phone flashed.

Well not really enough time. By the time we got back to Cornelia’s and I got my things together, there wasn’t any time for me to take the train to the airport so Cornelia dropped me off. Thanks again Cornelia, you’re a lifesaver.

On a side note, I didn’t manage to sell my car as planned. Too complicated without the registration papers and too expensive with the €6000 customs tax--three times the asking price for the car! So I left my car under surveillance in Casablanca and am actively looking for someone who would like to drive it back to Nice. If you are interested and want more details, please contact me!

Thanks again to Nezha and Cornelia for making me feel most welcome in Morocco and Cornelia for hosting me. A friend who asked to remain anonymous also donated $50 in Nezha’s name to buy 5 bednets and thank her for her hospitality. See you all in Osaka I hope!

Next stop: Cameroon!

18th Stop - Marrakech

Nezha took a couple days off of work so we drove to Marrakech on Wednesday. It was a fun ride and I was happy to learn that "nezha" not only means virtuousness, but also to party! As for Nezha, she seemed quite impressed by my ability to figure out what the Arabic songs we were listening to were about. It’s easy, the majority of songs are about love; all you need to do is listen to the melody to figure out if people are falling in love, out of love, if it’s an impossible love, someone’s been betrayed by their one true love, etc. It’s like a test with multiple choice questions: when you don’t know the answer, choose “C”!

Marrakech is a hot city. Like 45° C hot, or 113° F if you prefer. First things first, fresh squeezed, ice cold orange juice on the central square amidst the monkeys, vipers, and other oddities. Truly the best orange juice I’ve had and it only cost €0.30. We’ll be back.

We meandered through the souk and bought a few gifts, then found a nice local restaurant called Chez Abdelhay Frère Rachid and had lunch. A couple from France sat down beside us and confirmed that this was a great restaurant and that we’re lucky to have found it. Luck? Who needs luck?

Nezha commissioned some name signs from a local artisan and we had to come back later to get them. So we continued to meander, stopped in for an apple-banana juice, and spoke at length with the shop-owner. He had lived in Germany and the Netherlands for several years and was convinced that Marrakech was heaven on earth. He wouldn’t go back to Europe for anything in the world. He explained how a lot of people complain that there is no money in Morocco, that is is poor. This is false, he said. There is plenty of money, you just need to work hard and figure out the best way to earn it.

Cyber Park

We continued on our way and ended up in a cyber park. This is an interesting concept. There is free wifi access throughout the park in addition to stand up internet kiosks with touch screens. We just went there for the shade but it’s nice to know that now you can go outside, smell the roses, and facebook all at the same time.

Nezha picked up her name plates, we had two more glasses of orange juice each, and then we hit the road. Unfortunately, the Bastille Day party hosted by the French consulate wasn’t starting until 7:30 pm and we had to get back to Casa :-(

Next stop: back to Casablanca!

17th Stop - Casablanca

I want to start out by reiterating what I said in a previous post about how welcome I felt in Morocco, and this is mostly thanks to two of the people I spent most of my time with there: Nezha and Cornelia. But before I tell you more about Nezha, Cornelia, and Casablanca, let me tell you about the drive from Rabat.

Moroccan GPS

I was just about to get on the highway when I saw a hitchhiker. I was getting sick and tired of driving all alone and not optimizing my carbon footprint so I decided to pick him up. Rachid was his name and he was on his way to Agadir to get his daughter and bring her back to Rabat for the summer holidays. We talked at length about the differences between Rabat and Casablanca, especially the restaurants since Rachid works as a waiter. As we got closer to Casablanca, I told him I had to go to the Institut Culturel Français in the center of town and asked him where he wanted me to drop him off. Then he offered me to use his phone so I could call Nezha to find out how to get to the Institut. He told me he would go with me to make sure I found it ok and not to worry about him. In the end, he also came with me to Metro to meet up with Nezha and then went on his merry way. Indeed, no worries, he asked the first person he came across for help and was on the road again.

As I mentioned in a previous post, Nezha is a member of JCI Casablanca with whom I had been in contact before arriving and who was helping me to coordinate my stay in Casa. She works in supply-chain management for Metro and has a great philosophy about work. If she no longer likes what she is doing, no longer has any passion for it, she quits and finds something that inspires her. Good for you Nezha; I think there would be a lot less depression in the world if everyone had your courage to face the fear of pain and the unknown that comes along with change.

Nezha and Cornelia

When Nezha got out of work, we headed over the the Scala Café by the port, not too far away from the Rex Café, made famous in the movie... be the first to name this movie and I’ll send you a post card. Cornelia joined us after she finished up work. Cornelia is originally from Switzerland but has been living and working for Novartis in different countries for several years now. Interestingly enough, I met her high school pen pal by sheer coincidence in a grouped Facebook message sent by a translator colleague of mine. Small world made smaller thanks to FB.

Optical illusion

After dinner, we went back to Cornelia’s apartment where I would be staying and had a drink on her “balcony of noise.” Now I know, every major city is noisy but Casa stands out among all others. Cornelia explained one reason why: the traffic lights are in front of the intersection and there are no small lights on the side of the traffic lights for the first line of cars. Basically, this means that you have to wait for the people two or three rows back to honk that the light has turned green and you can go! When you stop and listen attentively, you can hear an almost magical orchestra of honking throughout the entire city.

Nothing special about the training I did on Tuesday except that I was pleased to catch up with Magali, a colleague, client, and former trainee from France who came all the way to Morocco for the training (not really, she happened to be there and the timing was right). At the end of the day, I went to pay the €4 we owed for using the library and the person in charge said not too worry about it, it’s my lucky day. Indeed, my luck is on the up and up.

Casa to be continued... Coming up next, day trip to Marrakech!