The Akroma File

Chapter Six

35 The Akroma File Chapter Six (Wednesday, May 9th 1984) A round the month of May the weather in Douala could be very inconstant. When J-P left the house there was abundant sunshine. By the time he arrived the airport it started drizzling. When they got into the car to drive away it actually began to pour, and it got progressively worse as they drove on, making the journey extremely slow. Here a taxi overtook and suddenly stopped to pick up a passenger, there another hooted only to stop just when you were about to make way for him to pass. Because of the bad weather Akroma was not able to get a good view of the town he had come to explore. He decided it was poor strategy to sit back instead of finding our as much as possible even before he settled down. “About how large is this city?” he asked J-P. “Ah-ah, Oga,” the man beamed, “you cannot count Douala. It is a whole country. More than two million.” It was an exaggeration, but it gave the visitor an idea of the size. “What kind of things do people do here to get money?” “Oga, anything you do in Douala you have money. Even those who carry only shit in the night.” “How is business life there?” “That is the worst. Every businessman is a millionaire.” “Is life cheap?” “Like in what, Oga? Rent or chop or clothes?” “Yes, something like that.” 36 Linus T. Asong “It can be cheap if you want cheap things. For clothes, you can buy everything second-hand. Even shoes, socks, dross, tie, coat. All this that I am wearing, not up to 2,000 francs. Rent is also not very dear. You can get a one room house for 8,000francs like my own. Many many people do not live in houses….” “Then how do they live?’ “They work and go to the bar and drink and dance and sit there until the next day, then they start again. Anything can happen in Douala. Only a foolish man can suffer in Douala.” 37 The Akroma File 2 I t took them exactly one hour thirty minutes to make the tedious bumper-to-bumper journey of less than ten kilometres to Mambanda-Bonaberi where Reverend Dieudonne Akwa lived. His abode also served as the main office of LICE. It was a large enclosed compound containing the large main house and two smaller adjoining ones. There were two equally smaller houses set apart from each other. Flowers of various species and colour adorned the front yard. There were coconut trees to the back very close to the wall with a kitchen garden to the left and right of the coconut trees. The man who came to the veranda to welcome them was unmistakably the Pastor. Akroma had his eyes fixed on him as they approached the house. He was a man of middle height and about sixty years old and the one remarkable thing about him as Akroma discovered instantly was his genial look. Once on their way to Mambanda-Bonaberi he asked J-P. “Tell me, what kind of man do I expect to meet?” “You mean man like how, Oga?” J-P. asked. “A kind man, wild, good, quiet, generous, selfish. Something like that.” J-P had told him unhesitatingly: “Even God not good reach Pastor Akwa. He can give people food and die hungry. People from all over come and live only with him. He is the real God man.” That had given him much hope. And even now that he was looking at the man he was not disappointed. He had the built that was fashionable amongst pastors whose churches were sponsored from abroad: a roundish, 38 Linus T. Asong bespectacled, clean-shaven face, a thick neck below folds of skin and looked like several chins, a large protruding belly and short thick arms with fingers so thick that they did not look like they could bend. He seemed to live very well. His hair was low and scanty. He was not exactly bald but the hair-line retreated far above his forehead. He had roundish eyes with thick folds of flesh hanging below which gave the impression to a casual observer that they were very large. They were seemingly magnified by the thick lenses of the heavy spectacles he wore. He looked virtually...