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In the north of Cameroun, there are hobbit-like villages perched on rocky cliff, each house like a miniature mediaval fortress. Nearby is the land of the Kapsikis with its great basalt outcrops. Then there is Waza National Park, one of the best game reserves in Central Africa. But it takes quite a while to get there...
Roughly halfway between Yaoundé and the Chadian border, N´Gaoundéré (population 100.000) is the northern end of the Trans-Cameroun Railroad. To get to the North of Cameroun we went by bus from Douala to Yaoundé, then by train to N´Gaoundéré. This was already a long journey, with the bus leaving around noon, the train scheduled for 18 o´clock (naturally not leaving on time) and - due to many stops, some without apparent reason, some to fix bended rail tracks - arriving at N´Gaoundéré only at next day´s noon. It was quite an adventure, because with first class fully booked we had to buy second class tickets - something every tourist guide says one should not do. First thing the conductor told us was to beware of the three thieves in the train. He added that one of them just left and he wasn´t sure if he would come back (?!?). As the second class was quite full as well, we “bought” us three seats side by side (a little bit of bribery can be quite useful sometimes) and decided not to sleep all at the same time. Maybe there was no danger of thieves any more, because when Hubertus we nt off the train to get something to eat and drink, he felt some hands in his pockets. He grabbed the hands, yelled out, many people crowded around him, and the thief was carried away.
From N´Gaoundéré a bush taxi took us to Maroua, passing Garoua situated midway between these towns. Cameroun´s northernmost major city, Maroua, is popular with travellers and is the starting point for trips to Waza National Park, Rumsiki, Mora, Mokolo and the Mandara mountains. The market is the city´s top attraction. There is also a tannery nearby. The workers are supporting the most inhumane conditions. They don´t even have gloves to secure their hands from the tanning acid. 
The north is Muslim Fulani country. Whereas the south has been in contact with the Western world for over 500 years, until the 20th century the north was part of quasi-feudal Fulani kingdoms centred in Nigeria and tradition and resistance to outside influences remain strong. Development here is going more slowly, for example, there are far fewer children in school.
The rocky regions in the west and north of Maroua are populated by the Mafa, the Podoko, the Mofou and the Kapsiki, all collectively known as Kirdi, the Fulani word for pagan. They are the tribes the Fulani drove into the inhospitable rocky areas near Nigeria. We saw them when we visited Tourou, Rumsiki and Mokolo. They are even more alienated from the rest of Cameroun than are the Fulani of the north. Life expectancy among the Kirdi is only about 30 years. 
Tourou is very picturesque and especially interesting on Thursdays (market day), when the village becomes alive. Most distinctive are the women´s hats, which are round, reddish coloured half-gourds decorated with geometrical designs. In Tourou one also sees lots of Goudour pe ople from the nearby Nigerian plains. The Nigerian Naira is accepted currency in Tourou. We also made acquaintance with the main foodstuff of northern Cameroun: millet. There is nothing else growing in this dry and rocky area. We tried fried millet balls (not bad) and millet beer (rather not recommendable).
In Rumsiki the “sorcier aux crabes” w ill tell you your fortune, using crabs in a clay pot to assist him in his divination. But the attraction of Rumsiki, which borders Nigeria, is clearly the volcanic, moon-like landscape including the nearby Pic de Rumsiki, which is probably the most photographed site in Cameroun. The Kapsiki mountains offer an unforgettable view. The Kirdi villages are perched on the side of rock y hills. Each round house looks like a tiny fortress.
Some 80 km away of Maroua, Mokolo is capital of the Mafa (or Makatam) people. Just before you reach Mokolo you´ll begin to see their tiny settlements, which are easily distinguished by the tall, pointed, thatched roofs of their round banco houses. Mokolo itself is not particularly attractive or interesting, but the surrou nding area certainly is.
Waza National Park is one of the finest game parks in Central Africa. Elephants are the major attraction (we managed to see some shortly after entering the park - but unfortunately they were faster then we were and ran away in the wrong direction). We spot giraffes as well as antelopes, warthogs, gazelles and various species of birds including vultures. Our guide also took us to some place where you can sometimes spot lions - as we had left the car to get there and were not given any explanation beforehand (the Waza guide didn´t speak French, so our driver acted as translator. But he had not much to translate, the guide was quite taciturn and preferred gestures) we were rather glad that the place was deserted that day.
As the travel from Douala to Maroua was quite exhausting, I decided to take CamAir back, whereas the two other trainees having travelled with me so far were to spent some more time in the north before going back by train. I knew that for some weeks there were no planes goint to Maroua, but in the CamAir office the lady told me that the problems were solved and the airplane would leave. So I bought my ticket and said goodbye to the others. What I didn´t know was that they sold more tickets than there were places in the plane, so it went off allright, and even in time, but without me. We were promised another plane to arrive only half an hour later. About two hours later - no plane in sight - we were told that maybe (!) the first plane would return from Douala the same day to fetch us in the afternoon, so we could profit of some free time. Only I was alone at the airport, had neither food nor drink with me and not much money left, having bought more souvenirs than planned and having been sure to be back in Douala soon. So I gladly accepted the invitation by some American missionaries to go home with them. They had accompanied a British missionary family to the airport, who were going back home (to their great regret). It was a very pleasant day, at the end of which against all probability the plane arrived, and I even survived drinking the water from the village well (there was no shop in the small village the missionaries lived, and therefore no possibility to buy mineral water) with only a slight stomach disorder. |
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