Guys, lets just keep this lamentable serf/palace children primitive mentality in abeyance for a minute and look at the issues. Might get something from them for a real book.
SEVEN CATARH
Every village in those days were building bridges with logs only and it was not be best building practice for such civil works. A brilliant Bafut man suggested that once the logs are laid, the chassis of abandoned cars can be collected from Bamenda and placed on the logs of wood to make a smooth passage on top of the bridge and that the chassis will also help to protect some of the logs from the rain.
Based on his advice which was sound engineering for a man of his limited education and considering the time in history, a team was mobilised and given instructions to source the materials and carry home for the project.
Once the materials were found and being metallic, they needed some cushioning effect to lessen the impact on particular points on the head (Force divided by large area lessens the impact felt, again sound engineering). Catarrhs were made and they carried the materials back home for the bridge.
SEVEN CATARH
Every village in those days were building bridges with logs only and it was not be best building practice for such civil works. A brilliant Bafut man suggested that once the logs are laid, the chassis of abandoned cars can be collected from Bamenda and placed on the logs of wood to make a smooth passage on top of the bridge and that the chassis will also help to protect some of the logs from the rain.
Based on his advice which was sound engineering for a man of his limited education and considering the time in history, a team was mobilised and given instructions to source the materials and carry home for the project.
Once the materials were found and being metallic, they needed some cushioning effect to lessen the impact on particular points on the head (Force divided by large area lessens the impact felt, again sound engineering). Catarrhs were made and they carried the materials back home for the bridge.
On can only guess that whilst these construction materials were being transported by the only means available to these hardworking people then, there might have been some visitors from a quartier in Manyu who saw then and said wow, "these must be good for nothing serfs fit to be owned in Ntarnako by palace children".
Eye Glasses Primitiveness
A people who had the guts to stand the Germans man to man and fought to the bitter end until neighbouring villages sold them out cannot be termed primitive. It shows courage, it shows self belief. The Germans considered the Bafut warriors to be courageous, organised, daring, well trained, and definitively not primitive. Such great battle organisation does not depict primitiveness. Organisation is a hallmark of civilisation.
Today, Cameras which are made of glasses are being placed and people seen continents away so I can understand a person considering that some glasses brought by a whiteman might have some capability of beaming images to another location hence the need to be careful. A set of mirrors which are glasses can relay images to another location.
To have conceived the idea that the glasses might have another function is one of the most brilliant ideas I read about. It shows how backward and primitive others were that they could not understand that those people had reasoned far more than they could ever imagine.
Typical of the black man, such brilliance goes unnoticed and instead they are quick to propagate ignorance when it comes to celebrating their people.
Eye Glasses Primitiveness
A people who had the guts to stand the Germans man to man and fought to the bitter end until neighbouring villages sold them out cannot be termed primitive. It shows courage, it shows self belief. The Germans considered the Bafut warriors to be courageous, organised, daring, well trained, and definitively not primitive. Such great battle organisation does not depict primitiveness. Organisation is a hallmark of civilisation.
Today, Cameras which are made of glasses are being placed and people seen continents away so I can understand a person considering that some glasses brought by a whiteman might have some capability of beaming images to another location hence the need to be careful. A set of mirrors which are glasses can relay images to another location.
To have conceived the idea that the glasses might have another function is one of the most brilliant ideas I read about. It shows how backward and primitive others were that they could not understand that those people had reasoned far more than they could ever imagine.
Typical of the black man, such brilliance goes unnoticed and instead they are quick to propagate ignorance when it comes to celebrating their people.
Mamfe town has a population of 20,000. Bafut has a population of 150,000. Manyu is a division, Bafut is a subdivision. In terms of infrastructure, Bafut might have more secondary schools and other infrastructure as Manyu. Manyu has more laywers than Bafut, Bafut has more teachers than Manyu to balance it out. In terms of other professions e.g. Pastors, Bafut has more than Manyu not because the Moderator of the Presbyterian church is from Bafut. I am talking of lay pastors. In terms of education, Bafut is to the NW as Banyagi is to the SW. There is no aspect of development in Manyu that is not in Bafut. Bafut is 10 to 15 minutes drive from Bamenda. Can Bamenda 10 to 15 minutes away be so civilised whilst bafut is so primitive?., or Bamenda and Bafut are jointly primitve compared to Ntarnako quartier in Manyu?.
Population and development or civilisation wise, Ntarnako is one of a thousand quartiers in Bafut with a Ntanchu ruling those quartiers and reporting to Chiefs who in turn report to the Fon of Bafut. Bafut compares itself favourably with Manyu and not the quartier called Ntarnako. Bafut is a Fondom with many chiefs ruling different areas. These Chiefs rule over Ntanchus who in turn rule over areas with greater population and development than similar quartiers in Manyu such as Ntarnako. Bafut is the paramount Fondom in the NW Region.
I JUST READ THE ABOVE AND REALISED IT IS INCONSEQUENTIAL. MOCKING BAFUT SERFS OWNED BY NTARNAKO QUARTIER PALACE CHILDREN IS INDEED INCONSEQUENTIAL.
Regards
To: camnetwork@yahoogroups.com
From: saintarrey@yahoo.com
Date: Sat, 27 Apr 2013 08:53:56 +0000
Subject: Re: [camnetwork] LAMENTATIONS OF THE PRODIGAL SONS
Dr Ntumasang,
It was in Bafut that they made Seven Katarh to carry the car of the Whiteman. It was in Bafut that the people were supervised by the Whiteman's eyes-eyeglasses. Bafut epitomises the center of the primitive, pastoral and rustic Cameroonian before he/she ventures into the Diaspora. Perhaps, that is why!
It was in Bafut that they made Seven Katarh to carry the car of the Whiteman. It was in Bafut that the people were supervised by the Whiteman's eyes-eyeglasses. Bafut epitomises the center of the primitive, pastoral and rustic Cameroonian before he/she ventures into the Diaspora. Perhaps, that is why!
"Life is like a mysterious highway: at times we bypass those who would have made us happy either because of myopia or hyperopia."Hamilton Ayuk
"Rats should compete in a Rat-race but strangely, humans are the ones competing in it."Hamilton Ayuk
"Rats should compete in a Rat-race but strangely, humans are the ones competing in it."Hamilton Ayuk
From: Tumasang Martin <tumasangm@hotmail.com>
Sender: camnetwork@yahoogroups.com
Date: Sat, 27 Apr 2013 05:54:48 +0000
To: camnetwork@yahoogroups.com<camnetwork@yahoogroups.com>
ReplyTo: camnetwork@yahoogroups.com
Subject: RE: [camnetwork] LAMENTATIONS OF THE PRODIGAL SONS
Hi Guru Konde,
though I kind of like your piece, may I ask why you decided to select Bafut of all villages to us in the write up?. Is it coincidence?, is it some affiliation with Bafut?, is it some FREUDIAN SLIP what reveals more than it conceals?.
To: camnetwork@yahoogroups.com
From: ekonde07@yahoo.com
Date: Fri, 26 Apr 2013 20:37:54 -0700
Subject: [camnetwork] LAMENTATIONS OF THE PRODIGAL SONS
though I kind of like your piece, may I ask why you decided to select Bafut of all villages to us in the write up?. Is it coincidence?, is it some affiliation with Bafut?, is it some FREUDIAN SLIP what reveals more than it conceals?.
Regards
Tumasang
To: camnetwork@yahoogroups.com
From: ekonde07@yahoo.com
Date: Fri, 26 Apr 2013 20:37:54 -0700
Subject: [camnetwork] LAMENTATIONS OF THE PRODIGAL SONS
Lamentations of the Prodigal Sons
What a world the last half century has spawned! This half century of change has transformed the world as never before. Its most devastating casualty is impalpable, even as its impact is felt by many, especially for the contemporary African Diaspora. The destruction of the bonds of family and friendship that had once bound people together for millennia is perhaps the most subtle form of alienation ever experienced by humankind.
Barely 50-years ago one was born in Bafut, grew up in Bafut or Bamenda, schooled and worked in various parts of Cameroon, and, if one did not live in the same village or town with family members, he saw them regularly; if infrequently, at least a dozen times a year. That is how life was, that is how people lived, in Cameroon. Time and space at their beck and call, and with family members so near, life held meaning so warm. And as their forebears grew old, they cared for them, witnessed them decline at close quarters, and when they passed away they gleefully took their place.
Prior to the 1980s the majority of Cameroonians who went abroad for further studies returned home to lucrative jobs that awaited their acquired expertise. From the 1980s forward the tide was completely altered: study abroad became permanent residency abroad and in some cases acquisition of new abroad "citizenship"--the hyphenated Cameroonian. Consequently, family visits to Cameroon became an annual pilgrimage for the haves, every five-to-ten years for the have-nots, and perhaps once in a lifetime for those who did not care.
Distance and space destroy many things. Few things are immune from the destructive their, the most resilient of these being illusive memory. Memory is so powerful that it stays alive as illusion until it is confronted by reality, which effectively reduces some childhood friendships to acquaintanceships whenever distance and space take their toll.... The one who went abroad learns new things, his horizons expand: the other, who remained at home also learns new but different things; his consciousness conditioned by the environment in which he lives, compels him to do the same things day in day out: chicken parlor, beer-drinking, deuxieme bureau, night club circuit, etc.
After 15 years the old friends meet again, their memories of the past very much alive and well. They hug each other and laugh, even shed some tears of joy, and engage in conversation. In the first two or three hours they engage in a hearty discussion of their youthful days; in another two hours they laugh about their childhood exploits, and then the conversation gets stale, very old in just four hours. In four hours about 16 years of friendships is exhausted. Memory collides with reality and the old friends suddenly discover that they are strangers. Strangeness sets in. The conversation stops as attempts to revive the same old stories fail. Of such is the destructive power of distance, and of space.
What began three decades as a noble quest for enlightenment and acquisition of marketable skills has ultimately turned out to be an unfathomable nightmare for a good many. What was gained abroad was in most cases money and family prestige. What was lost in the long absences from "the native land" is incalculable but heavy, so heavy that one can approximate the magnitude of the loss only by contemplation in solitude. The loss is personal and individualized.
A future of hope envisioned in the past is now become a harvest of gloom in the present, and of utter hopelessness as they stagger through the future they once dreamt about, and march boldly into their twilight years. This is the story the story of many in the Diaspora, a story of fellow native Cameroonian "Prodigal Sons"--a story thought about in silence and despair, a story seldom told or written. I call it "Lamentations of the Prodigal Sons."
(To be continued.)
"The problem of power is how to get men of power to live for the public rather than off the public." Robert F. Kennedy
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