January 6th – Leaving Yaoundé
Good day. January 6th. Time to leave Yaoundé. As it happened, Mr. Stefan—the night receptionist whose four brothers I met, along with much of his extended family—was finishing his shift just as I was preparing to depart. Through one of his journalist brothers, I had even ended up doing a radio recording earlier in my stay.
He needed a ride home, so the timing worked perfectly. For the past 25 years, he has relied on taxis to get to work. Sometimes it can take him up to an hour and a half one way when traffic gets intense. It’s quite something. He doesn’t seem to require much sleep either—though perhaps he manages short naps during his night shifts. It was great to give him a lift and drop him near a shop where he needed to pick up a few things. Quite a character. I think he might be my biggest fan in Cameroon.
Fuel, Logistics, and the Road Out of Town
After that, it was time to fuel up. I try to stay on top of that. I have two 90-liter diesel tanks, though one has a slight issue and may spill a bit if filled completely, so I try to use that one first. Across Cameroon, the diesel price is consistent—828 CFA per liter, roughly about $1.15 at the moment.
Getting out of Yaoundé took nearly two more hours. Eventually, I found myself back on forest roads—jungle roads, really. In Cameroon, there’s still significant roadwork to be done compared to what I experienced in the Congo. Large potholes are simply part of the driving experience here.
Road Stops and Unpleasant Encounters
At one road stop, officials in orange vests—supposedly for road safety—flagged me down. They had taken a photo of me driving and claimed I had crossed an imaginary line. They asked for my driver’s license, and once they had that in their possession, the balance of power shifted.
The situation escalated more than it needed to, and I ultimately parted with some money—something I did not enjoy doing. With my license in their hands, I wasn’t sure what alternative options I realistically had. Incidents like that don’t reflect well on the country, but that’s all I’ll say about it.
Unexpected Passengers
Later, while assessing my route near a busy area, two gentlemen approached and asked for a ride. They didn’t need to cross the border, so that was fine. It turned out they were heading back to work near the border after spending the holidays in Yaoundé.
They both work at a facility that prepares iron ore for shipment. The material remains in rough form but is processed and sent elsewhere for further refinement. One had been working there for about five years, the other closer to ten. We spoke in French—so I picked up a few words and absorbed quite a bit I didn’t fully understand—but the conversation was friendly and well-intentioned.
Driving into the Dark
At one checkpoint, we asked how many kilometers remained because dusk was approaching. We ended up driving for somewhere between half an hour to an hour in the dark—something I try to avoid more and more.
Night driving here demands intense focus. Potholes become harder to see, headlights from oncoming trucks and buses can be blinding, and traffic moves fast. If you don’t squeeze precisely into your lane at the right moment, things could end badly. Thankfully, there were fewer potholes in that stretch, and everything worked out.
Arrival in Netam
We made it to Netam and found La Forestière, a very basic motel—about 10,000 CFA for the night. Simple, but sufficient. They still managed to provide dinner, which was good. I don’t need much.
That’s also where the two gentlemen got off, so everything aligned well. Tomorrow, it’s time to cross the border. Thanks for coming along.
