Wild Wild East

With my final report card filled out, the school year was officially over, and summer break had begun. I quickly packed up my things, traveled to Yaoundé and bought one ticket for the night train to Adamawa. As soon as I got on I was startled to see how modern everything was. It suddenly seemed as if I was riding along the Eurorail through the French countryside. The next morning I awoke in my plush compartment and made my way to the dining car for breakfast. When we pulled into Ngaoundaré I was nervous to get off. The modern amenities on the train had almost made me forget that I was in Africa. But this place was like nothing I had experienced yet in Cameroon. I quickly forgot that I was white due to the absence of people shouting, "Le Blanc!" at me. The three northern regions of Cameroon, (Adamawa, North, Extreme North), have the highest population of Muslims and the culture is vastly different, everything seemed oddly calm. The people are very respectful to each other and even more so towards foreigners. I also enjoyed the food immensely. There are many Fulani here who are most known for owning and herding large numbers of cattle. In my village I usually eat cow skin, and cow foot on the lucky days. But here we were having steak dinners every evening. The land itself reminded me somewhat of the Midwest, due to how flat it was. The views stretched for miles in all directions, and the stormy skies often looked as if they were ready to drop a funnel down at any moment. As my stay here was coming to an end my friend and I discussed what our plans were for the East region. He suggested we visit Lobeke, a jungle reserve deep in the Congo basin. We had initially decided to wait for a time when another friend of ours would be able to come along, but impulse decisions are difficult to say no to.
So, without having anything packed for this excursion, I agreed  that we should go. Unfortunately there is no train going into the East so we took the usual bus transportation. At this point we were the closest I'd been to the Central African Republic, which is in the midst of civil war. Traveling down this road had a sobering effect on me. We passed multiple large UN refugee camps, housing thousands who are trying to escape the violence next door. We eventually made it into Bertoua, the capital of the East, and were once again in an entirely different world. Everyone and everything seemed to be moving a mile a minute. People were shouting at us from all directions, and in general, chaos ruled the scene. We quickly left Bertoua and made our way to Batouri, to stay at a friend's post. We spent one day visiting a goldmine which was an interesting experience. We then went back to my friend's house and discussed our plans for Lobeke,  also reviewing how to get there. He graciously offered us a few packs of beef jerky which we quickly accepted. We packed light for the trip, which was easy for me, as I didn't know we were doing this trip until I reached Adamawa. But being slightly unprepared at least meant my bag was light.
Early the next morning we went to the bus station and saw our newest means of transportation, prison bus. Five rows of seats, with two seats on each side and a flip down seat which occupies the aisle. To say we were packed in tighter than sardines would be an understatement. Within five minutes of the bus rocking back and forth all the passengers knew each other intimately. Luckily, this bus trip was only for eight hours, and there were some beautiful views along the way. This ride made me feel like I was truly in Africa. The trees were the tallest I'd seen in Cameroon. And with every mile we seemed to go back another ten years in development. Mud brick houses were a thing no longer seen, instead, sticks were staked into the ground to create walls with mud, grass, and leaves used to fill in the cracks. The stares we received from people lasted much longer, often never ending, while their eyes and mouths were opened equally as wide. The gendarmes were just as curious, interrogating us heavily at each check point. We miraculously made it to Yokaduma, and after spending the night there, we boarded another eight hour prison bus. Now the houses we passed were made from sticks bent into the shape of an igloo covered with large banana leaves. We had entered Baka territory. The people here are pygmies who are nomadic and live in the forest, so they don't have much use for overly complicated housing structures. Just as twilight set in we reached Mambele, now only twenty miles from the Congo, and watched the day fade away in a fiery red sky. The next morning we drove into the reserve and after 45 minutes we were dropped off and were in the middle of Lobeke with our eco guard Tito and our guide Petite Jean.
After one hour of trekking through dense jungle we heard a loud, low hooting. Petite Jean motioned for us to stop, began sniffing, and whispered, "Gorille." After the gorilla seemed to have left we were told that if a gorilla charged we needed to huddle together in order to look like one large animal. There were also some throat noises we were shown which would help to calm down a gorilla. But if we peed our pants it would apparently maul is. Great, and I'd just finished my 1.5 litre water bottle. We made it to an observation tower and had a great view of a savanna surrounded by forest. We then set up camp for the night. Tito began telling us of past experiences in the park as he was burning our used sardine cans which would attract panthers if left with fishy remains. As he was speaking in French I thought I heard him say he'd shot someone in the forest a few years back. And then he pulled out a revolver. Indeed, apparently a poacher was hunting elephants and then began firing at Tito with an AK-47, so he returned fire and killed him. Well at least we now knew our eco guard was a good shot in case an animal charged us. Although if an elephant came at us, the only thing that would be able to bring it down is an AK. As night set in the forest came alive, and for some strange reason we decided this would be the perfect time to go looking for animals. We walked nervously for thirty minutes breathing heavily, and then Petite Jean told us we needed to turn back. He had caught the scent of an elephant and didn't want to get too close. We then made it back to the camp site, crawled into our tent and were lulled to sleep by the sounds of the rainforest.
The next day we trekked further to another viewing tower finding evidence of gorillas all along the way. We spent the entire afternoon sitting, watching a herd of grazing buffalo. Then as sunset came flocks of birds put on a show, flying from tree to tree until dark. The next day we woke up to heavy rain which fortunately stopped by late morning. But as we began our walk back we found that the entire forest was flooded. We slowly, wetly, plodded along. At one stretch we had to put anything we wanted to keep dry high in our packs and then proceeded to walk over 200 yards through waist deep water. We then had to cross a portion where a river was. We had to feel for a stick well below the surface and hope the rushing current wouldn't pull us away. Thankfully, we made it out alive. Arriving back in Mambele felt like returning to the first world. And although I quickly fell sick with a case of amoebic dysentery due to foolishly drinking river water, I knew it would have been much worse had it happened while we were still inside Lobeke.