Route Taxis and Fake French
In Cameroon (and Trinidad and many other countries I’m sure), the way to get around the city is by taxi. These aren’t the metered taxis you might first think of. These taxis follow a set route and you pay a rate for that distance and only for your own seat. This means two things: if you are going a long distance, like from Makepe to Bonanjo for example, you will have to take two taxis; and unless you are with four friends, you will be sharing the taxi with strangers.
The other thing that makes taking taxis challenging is that street addresses aren’t used here. Locations are given by landmarks, many of which are common parlance, that the taxi driver should recognize. When I want to go from Makepe, where I live, to Bonanjo, where Yonkua lives, I walk out to the side of the road where the cars are going in the right direction. I flag a taxi or one beeps at me, and I say, “ecole publique, deux cents.” Ecole Publique is the first drop-off point on my way into the city and it costs me 200 cfa (about $.50) to get there. I say this before I get into the taxi. If the taxi man isn’t on that route, he drives away; if he is going there, he gives a friendly beep on the horn and pulls over.
When I am let off at ecole publique, I walk around the corner where the cars are going in the right direction and I say, “bonanjo, ancienne poste, deux cents.” This car will drop me in front of Yonkua’s house, which is near an old post office. I have done this by myself and what I am most proud of is my fake French. As long as no one actually tries to engage me in conversation, I can fake the accent and attitude well enough to be ignored in the taxi. Of course, there have been the couple of times where someone tries to be conversational and I have to admit that I don’t understand what they’re saying to me.
But the most traumatic experience was the first time I had to get back to Makepe by myself. I had my fake French at the ready and I got to ecole publique without a problem. Except the taxi driver stopped at a spot I didn’t recognize and I had to admit I didn’t know where to stand for Makepe. That was easily solved and I confidently stepped up to a car and said, “Makepe.” Then the driver said (in French), “Where in Makepe?” I had no idea what to say, no one had told me there was more to say than just Makepe. The driver drove off in frustration and I was near tears.
I calmed myself down and decided I should call William. I had his cell number memorized, but I needed a phone. I knew what to do: I approached one of the many stands that sell phone cards for phones because they also sell time on the cell phone they have at the stand. It costs 200 CFA to make a call. I called William and got him on the third or fourth try. I choked out that I didn’t know where in Makepe to direct the taxi and he told me, very calmly, “lycée,” as though it wasn’t pivotal information in my life at the moment. Of course, once I knew it, getting home was as boring as it’s supposed to be.
Tags: Cameroon, Local Transport, Travel, Travel, Tag Index
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