Happy birthday to you

Many thanks to family and friends who sent Happy Birthday messages to me - yes, I did enjoy my day.

Easter Monday leaving Limbe - the joy of finding a 4 star toilet at the motor park! If you're ever waiting for a bus at Mile 4, just walk along to the petrol station, buy some excellent plantain chips in the shop and politely ask if you may use their WC. It has water!

Arriving at Mutangene, a helpful young man from Amour Mezam bagged us seats on the bus to Bamenda, already crowded and almost full. We were 7 on the back seat, and every row the same, packed like the proverbial sardines in our tin can. Padded by my ample rear, I was OK but Linda and Gweneira felt the painful effects of the metal framework, and Gwenno's sunburned back was an added discomfort.

In Cameroonian style I nursed a baby for the mum on our row, and he played with an empty water bottle. Shortly after setting off, the whole bus was treated to a sermon from a young man a few rows ahead. "I've been a bad man", he confessed, and Gwenno muttered "Well if you want to be good, give me your seat!"

Thanks be for good driving or whatever, we reached home safely, in daylight. It felt so good to be really clean again in Limbe, with hot showers and water whenever we needed it, then just a few hours later back to Bamenda's brown dirt roads, pouring rain and no electricity in the house.

Tuesday morning, my birthday and a trip up to Santa for a 9am committee meeting. Walking into the building, I was rather surprised to see the large table covered with carved wooden figures, typical Cameroonian artwork, and an unknown young man sitting there along with Derick and Kareen, volunteers. He introduced himself and I chatted to him about the pieces, which were quite good. When the rest of the committee arrived, there was a brief discussion about how we could hold a committee meeting with the table covered like that, and he packed up his goods and left. Later, we worked out that everyone had assumed someone else had invited him along, but in fact he'd just turned up at the office on the chance he might sell something!

After the meeting, I invited everyone for lunchtime drinks. Councillor Mbuh Samuel said we should put some meat in the belly before beer, so we went to the mimbo house (bar) he favours. The landlady put a large bowl of chunks of meat in gravy in the middle of the table, and gave each of us a small enamel bowl. Along with a piece of meat, we got an oblong loaf of white bread and a fork. Quite tasty, and it was OK to leave the bones and gristle; well I left them anyway.

Everyone sang "Happy birthday" to me, with an unexpected second verse: "And how old is she?" Faced with the whole bar then looking at me, I had to tell them. One thing that's nice about Cameroon is that age is a good thing. So I am Madame Rose or Mami, and people shake hands with me with their left hand supporting their right arm, to show respect for a senior or more authoritative person. Wow!

Later I visited Angeline in her office at the Municipal Treasury. I've never been in a Treasury before, except at the Tower of London, which was not a bit like this one. Council facilities here are not exactly plush. Very few computers, no Internet or email. The council chamber has only one electric socket and no ceiling so that rain on the tin roof drowns out any chance of debate, and as for the toilets - well, a photo can't really do them justice.

Back in Bamenda, Gwenno and I went out to our favourite local chop house - dinner at Mr Bobs. Peter, the chef, trained at catering college and we fell for his cheerful smile and white hat the first time we spotted him at the roadside. He grills whole mackerel and serves them on a metal platter with pepper sauce. A neighbouring stall cooks the fried potatoes, and the supermarket sells us a litre carton of red wine, and supplies wine glasses. We sit on the wooden terrace behind the grill, and Peter brings us a bowl and warm water to wash our hands, then we eat the whole lot with our fingers.

On this special occasion, the rains came just after we'd finished eating, so we retreated inside the chop house to polish off the wine. The chop house is just a bare room, open front, simple wooden seats and tables. We set off home as it grew dark, not the best night for my head torch to expire, but the rain had quieted the street life and we had no hassle on the way.

Definitely my best birthday in years!