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137  Chapter Ten The Foumban Conference and the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Cameroon We had hardly enough time to wash our travelling clothes from the Bamenda dust after the Mankon meeting, when the gong tolled for the expected East-West Conference to tackle the question of a constitution for the Federal Republic. The venue was announced to be the romantic capital of the historic Bamoums, famed for their valour in war, their love of art, and their beautiful women referred to in local parlance as “the long necks of Foumban.” Our excitement, as we packed our kit for the flight to the city of the great Njoya, was understandable. For at last the time had arrived for us now reasonably united on this purpose in West Cameroon, to tackle the politicians of the East in a Conference that would define our constitutional relation. Here, we would confront the ‘brothers’ across the Mungo in a battle to test our wits and our experience in constitution making. Indeed, against the background of having attended four Constitutional Conferences, three in London and one in Lagos, several of us in the West Cameroon contingent felt confident to be more than a match for our Francophone counterparts. For none of them could claim the experience of no less than four months of debate and lobbying in the corridors and Committee rooms of Lancaster House London, and in Lagos. In men like Endeley, Foncha, Muna, Motomby, Jua, my humble self to name only these, the feeling was that in wrestlers, on hearing the drums and music of their popular sport. Against our Mankon conference homework, we felt confident and relaxed in our seats as the plane flying Tiko-Koutaba glided northwards in a bright clear sky. The undulating hills and the wellcultivated Bamileke countryside lay below us depicting part of the new territory we had come to join. In the midst of jokes and laughter, we surveyed the ground below, and girded our loins in readiness for what we took to be the gathering battle of Foumban. Our plane touched ground at Koutaba airstrip, some miles from the city, and we were soon whisked off in waiting cars that sped along a well-graded earth road, to the gates of Foumban. Here we met huge welcoming crowds who greeted us with music and song in the midst of the booming of dane guns. 138  A striking feature at the city gates was the remains of a deep ditch in the form of a dry moat that encircled the entire town since the preEuropean days. This ditch served as the last defence line to shield the city from any invaders, and to provide protection for villagers from the surrounding countryside who took refuge in the city in the event of a siege. Reported to have been at one time several metres deep, the moat served to halt any invading force while the defenders waited on the city side and hurled rocks and other missiles at the enemy attempting to break in. The Bamoum archers posted at strategic points on high ground within the enclosure, then made short work of such invaders, and by this the city could withstand a long siege. The ditch around the city encircled enough land from which the besieged dwellers could eke subsistence almost indefinitely. Foumban itself looked ideal for this historic come together. Free from all the unrest that had scared West Cameroonians and blessed with a most congenial climate and people, the Eastern authorities had picked the place deliberately for the occasion. The entire town had been exquisitely cleaned up and houses splashed with whitewash. Charles Okala, the Foreign Minister, an amiable host unlike the turbulent fire-eater we had seen of him in New York, had flown in two orchestras, one from Yaounde, the other from Douala. Our hosts had taken meticulous care to provide the best lodging possible. Food was good and receptions lavish. As a matter of fact, we could see the weeks of effort put in by our hosts to cement the impression that the term ‘brothers’ went deeper than on mere lips and the climate in Foumban real or artificial went far to convince us that despite the stories of “murder and fire,” there could be at least this island of peace, east of the Mungo. It was a sensible diplomatic stroke by Charles Okala the Foreign Minister who with Jean Bateyene, his Secretary General was indisputably one of the brains behind all these...

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