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Monday, January 30, 2012

I am Number 4


I figured I will be the last one carrying many rhymes and wise twists from him to You
I was hoping I would not just be one of the many, many ways he tries to show you how much he cares.
I am sure you have seen quite a couple like me, and know in so many words what he thinks of you.
I was just hoping I would be different, and it turns out, I am!

This guy loves you, don’t ever get it twisted! He sits at work and just writes all these crazy   things about you, to you.
He goes back home and cannot wait to talk to you. He sees your face and immediately goes into caring and sexy mode.
This guy loves you – he has written all kinds of poems for you. I think if I were you, I will really love him too. I hope you do! And I think he knows that too.
This guy loves you - because no matter who is  around - friends or family - he almost always seems to  think, and find ways to talk, about you.

I am number 4.
I know I am the last, and I know I am supposed to be more than all the others, but I just simply can’t.
I , as number 4, decided to tell you in the most plain of languages that he thinks the world of you, writes of you, talks of you, and always wants you – your mind AND body.
He knows you pain, sees your fears, and hears the things you don’t say. He wants you, wants to protect you, wants to be your man, and hopes you will be his woman.

I sometimes hope I wasn’t the page, but the person, to whom he wrote. 'Cos the words he types sometimes makes me wanna tear (no pun intended).
Thing is, he never really tried too much , as he wrote Number 1, 2 and 3. But in writing me, he did struggle quite some.
I wondered why, but I realized it was because for once, he was just trying to be as  real as possible.
He realized it was far easier to write in rhyming couplets and quintuplets,  than to adequately give utterance to his myriad  of  feelings.
He found that he loved you a little more than his large array of words could try to articulate.

So here I am: Number 4. 
Written with no rhyme, as his love letter to you. Just so you will know, that all he wants to say is ‘I love you’.
I was hoping I will be the last of such writings to you but, who am I kidding?
I know he will write again someday; I know he will always try to tell you those feelings in more ways than one.
But all in all, I know he loves you like he never loved before… So please keep me really close to you, ‘cos I think I was the most authentic of them all.  
Number 4.

SOP - December 2011

… And Then There Is You


I thought and really seemed now to have figured it all.
The good, the bad, the ugly; did previous love stall
Maybe my brand of love, just wasn’t ever real afterall
A break and change of place could help me make  better calls.


And there was you
With all your brightness, your sweetness
And then there was you
With charm unarming, unsettling
And then there was you.
Your being, your warmness, your presence
And then there was you
A friend, a lover, my cover.


I try to find a thousand ways to show you I care
To tell you what you mean to me, to show what I’ll share
I’ll try to keep you safe from harm, and fight all those who’ll dare
To bring more pain to one so fair, who’s seen her fair share.

But then there is you
With all your prowess, your braveness
And then there is you
Through much attrition, opposition
And yet there is you
With hope eternal, joy external
And still there is you
With such compassion; lively passion.

Its real to have you
My very own girl, my head swirls!
Its nice to have you
For stimulation, inspiration
I’m glad there is you
To light my fire, raise my desire.
I hope to have you
My love-brand mirrored, and recovered.

There are many girls, for a thousand miles
...And then, there is YOU.

SOP - November 2011

Trickles Night


Thin raindrops spattering slowly on the car, the window
My heart starts racing as my every pace, still stay slows
Such gentle music with a sultry voice, is played slow
With giddy nerves to bear as pent-up love, starts to flow.


Her beauty and her being just left me kind of, breathless
A star-less night we had, but such a bond, so stress less
Her lips and hands so soft, ‘Oh Lord my God, can’t take this!’
Her calm assurance tells me, I’m her man, Her Prince, YES!


A look into her eyes and there I knew, no question
She surely was the One, no time for pause, reflection
A clarity so deep, a time for real, connection
The quivering of our lips betrays the dual, reaction.


I stare into her eyes, her tender love, she gives me
I kiss her tender lips as all my calm, evades me
A silence and a bliss, our sacred moment, stumps me.
I still can’t find the words to carve it out, in history.


I only pray the girl I met that night, comes to stay
‘Cos love like that just never stops, just doesn’t, fades away
If ever she should go, if ever love, were to stray
I’ll know on ‘Trickles Night’, I had my very, own fairytale.

SOP - September 2011

My Woman


My woman

Amazing,
Spellbinding,
Transfixing,
My baby.

Erotic,
Exotic,
Acrobatic,
My vixen.

Resilient,
Expedient,
Proficient,
My lady.

Caring,
All-bearing,
Real blessing,
My gurl.

Expressive,
Seductive,
Assertive,
My woman.

Sensual,
Sexual,
Visual,
My love.

Intellectual,
Sentimental,
Individual,
My contemporary.

Courageous,
Curvaceous,
Bodaceous,
My friend.

Devoted,
Accomplished,
Adored,
My star.

My lady, my lover, my  Woman.


SOP - June 2011

The Good, the Bad and the Very Ugly

I contend that you cannot forgive sincerely if you do not acknowledge completely. And by completely, I mean the good, the bad and the very  ugly of the relationship you both shared. It might be a relationship with family, friend or lover.I think we all have the bad and ugly well taken care of, so this piece actually points towards how much we miss out in our forgiveness when we ignore the good in those who couldnt stay.

People come into our lives for a reason, and sometimes, those who come in , can't stay forever. Most of them end with hurt and or disappointment, but some of them just run their normal course. Nonetheless, the way and pace we move forward from any relationship depends on how we decide to acknowledge what those people ever came into our lives for in the first place.
I do not believe in happenstance. I believe every single person you have the privilege of meeting contributes something to your life. Some make you feel loved and appreciated and give the wind under your wings. Others make you know you ' ain't all that' , and keep you humble and striving to improve.
For those who left you with some hurt, for those who are not there now, I am pretty sure there is something about them that made you draw close to them in the first place. It might have turned out all wrong and they became what you didn't like. Stuff happens. They leave! And the only way you feel sometimes you can deal with them is by demonizing every single part of who they ever were to you. The only way you can justify the rejection or disappointment is by pointing out to yourself and sometime others, how bad those who couldn't stay must have been. They couldn't be that good and then left you. They couldn't have anything nice about them and then disappointed you the way they did.
I get it. We like to get even. but even as you say that to other people, and even as you repeat it as many times to yourself so that you will believe it, you do know it is not totally true. That person, though he left might have had a way of making you smile. That person even as they hurt you in the end, might have taught you how to drive a bike, or use a phone. That person even though they hurt you were honestly loving , caring and considerate most times. If you look close enough, you will see the very things that made them useful in your life at the point in time.
I believe that only when we do this, can we fully acknowledge and move on. We can either demonize and push it far down and try to forget, but if ever you meet that person, all those emotions come running back. But I think if in the process of forgiving , you also identify the good he/she brought to your life, you tend to see them as flawed people , not flawed demons. It ensures an honest assessment of them, vi-a-vis your life with them, and helps in the healing by leveraging the hurt.  The one thing about hurt and forgiveness is the power both of them have ; one to ensnare, the other to liberate. And there is no forgiveness without honesty to oneself.
So to those who couldn't stay, acknowledge their good, even only to yourself , as you go through your process of forgiveness. Only then will you ever truly forgive, only then will you ever fully let them go by realizing that however it ended, there is something positive they did for u at some point in time, even if it was just that one time they made u smile.
Try it. I aint saying its easy, but I am saying it is worth it.  If you are in the process of forgiving, find a good thing for those who couldn't stay in your life. It will do a lot of good in knowing you were not all mistaken or fooled. There was some good anyway, even if it didn't end the way you wanted. And that can help you let go.
People come into our lives for a reason. The only way we can really let them go is by accepting all those reasons : the good , the bad, and the ugly.
Remember; forgiveness is all about you , and not really about the other person.


God bless.
EAU - Oct 2011

The Repatriate Generation : A way forward!

I am not a patriot!
At least, not in the ‘sing your anthem, be proud of your country, wave your flag’ sort of way. My country is one of the reasons I left where I was born. It seems to be the problem and not the solution. The structure, and endemic lack of the opportunity to live free and fair, and make a living off your own sweat, was never an option for me in the Republic. Come to think of it, I am an angry person. 'Cos that same dysfunctional Republic made me leave the things I love, the places that made me tick, my very own culture and society and way of being. That is what I am: A sum total of my beliefs, culture, community and my race. My country made me forsake this in order to pursue a good life, and for that I am not a patriot, because patriotism could have cost me and my family, our livelihood, and in return we would have endured, favoritism, nepotism, and all the corruption and decadence that comes with absolute power.

I love my country.
Its sights and sounds, its people and perspectives; its morals and virtues, its culture and combinations. I couldn’t fully live anywhere else if I had the option. The infectious music and the sometimes chaotic order in disorder which has a way of making me smile; the genuine smiles from its people and the palpable sense of community. The joie de vivre, and the quest for God and good. I miss the authenticity of the happiness, which is not born out of the presence of material amenities, but from the hearts of a people living and enjoying what blessings they can find. The realization that joy is not a function of the material but of the existential. A people with an infectious and persistent hopefulness, which in itself makes your heart melt. A cuisine so intricate and delicious, it takes some commitment to prepare. A community always willing to give a hand, always there to rejoice and cry with you. Our passion for football and sports, our uniqueness in fashion and design, and our unbelievable variety and quality in song and dance.

I want to go home.
I know home is where you make it. I know home has become to many of the diaspora, where they have made their bed and gained their bread, just like me. I know home has become the friends and people in your neighbourhood in whichever part of the world you live in. But I also know you know what I mean when I say I want to go home. To a non-negligible number of the diaspora, home is where the heart is – Africa. Home is where you feel like you have a right to be there, in spite of everything else. A feeling which is hard to replicate even with all the documentation and amassing of passports; a feeling where for once you don’t feel like you are second-class or need any excuses to be there! That feeling is palpable to most of us in the diaspora, even when we do not admit it to ourselves. Home is where you can lay claim to that heritage and that identity where God himself  assigned you. Home is where your heart still aches to see change and to effect change – the change which you have seen and experienced and come to appreciate wherever you are or might have been.
But how can I go home?  How can I effect change? What can I do to make home what I want it to be? If you are or have asked yourself any one of these questions, then you are one of many in an increasingly vocal and prominent band of Africans, which Wall Street calls the ‘repatriate generation’ of Africa. Many of whom have made their bread and lives out in the West but still have this longing of home, and even better, a longing for bringing what they possess and have learnt, to a continent and a country they love dearly. A set of people who excel at their trades and their areas of learning, and are looking for opportunities to make their rich heritage shine; an elite group of intelligent and sophisticated people who are just plain tired of the Western depictions of a desolate continent, and just impatient with the corrupt demagogues who have ruled and ruined the continent for us. A non-negligible majority who now know their worth, and can see the worth of their continent and their people. People bursting with ideas in business, art, fashion, science and technology. People who have acquired, and want to give back, to deliver and innovate, but are still faced with the apprehensions and frustrations of a continent with painfully slow progress in progressive policy and economics. Who still have the questions of; is it worth the hassle?  How do I affect the change I really seek with the reality on the ground? Will I succeed? How do I leave all this comfort and livelihood for that?  The thing about the answer to those questions is that they are personal, simple and complex at the same time. But I think you can answer each of them in the affirmative, if like me, you really have a burning desire to see things progress. The question real question is, ‘how to I do it? Where do I start?’.

Cooperate. Appreciate. Delegate.
Most of your brilliant business ideas and ways of making a difference in your country will invariably meet with one of two major snags : lack of sufficient capital and governmental bottlenecks (corruption being just one of them). These are the things that have held us back, and our failed relationship with the West - of aid and trade (more ‘aid and Take’ if you ask me) has only exacerbated our inherent dependency on ‘someone else’ to do it for us. But not this generation! We can see through the farce and demand more trade and less aid. But we need to start from somewhere. We need to start it before those whom we left behind can follow. One major advantage we have over our brothers and sisters who never left the continent, but decided to stay and make it work, is the benefit of  a different perspective; a deeper appreciation for the commensurate fruits of hard work, and a doctrine of doing what it takes to survive or reach a goal (we all have done A LOT of this at some point in time out here). These are the intangibles, which, if combined with our love for the continent, can make a major difference in how we apply ourselves in giving back to our country and continent. So what to do ?

Cooperate. Band together. Find people in social media who have the same aspirations and ideas as you do. Join to create a fashion brand, a tech company, a business consultancy, a transport business, something! Encouragement, and sharing of ideas can turn thought into action. Cooperation can also help with the idea of capital. Many people with a fashion idea will be able to kick off an idea if they could contribute both ideas and capital to the cause. Raising capital by cooperation can bypass our lack of loan and funding institutions, even if it only means getting projects off the ground.

Appreciate. There is nothing better than having a fellow African appreciate something you try to do in the continent, either by just dropping a congratulatory note, or by actually consuming the services or goods you provide. And I am not saying support ideas for the sake of it being from an African  - No. Support those ideas of quality and promise, which are worth supporting.  Champion concepts and businesses of the quality we can all be proud of – music, fashion, technology, agriculture etc. We are our best ambassadors - period. So, we are given a once in a lifetime opportunity here to carve out the image of the continent which we think rightly represents us, by supporting those ventures whose authenticity and quality we approve and can be proud of. We can be our best publicists to the budding businesses and artistic creations of our peers by spreading the word for them, of them. We can help by becoming a consumer-promoter, even if you are not the part of the conceptualization. Be it trustworthy African money transfer agencies, or banks, fashion houses or artists, technology providers and the like. Look around you, there are already many of these ideas and businesses coming up. Do your part and see them grow into genuine businesses and economic forces in your country, on the continent and internationally.

Delegate. We are all not made of the same elk. We can all not take the big risk or jump into the unknown of going back or even of running a business. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. We can work with, encourage, and delegate  to those who can, or are already in the process. We know friends and classmates who are willing to go start a business for which we can provide the initial finances by remaining in our present jobs. Do it! We can buy shares in promising companies, or promote artists without having to presently leave what we presently do. We can put brothers and sisters back home to work, working with other people with sound business acumen on a business  (I really am not a champion for family businesses – too many complications with accountability).  The core idea here being that we have no excuse not to contribute one way or the other, as there are options available to us all, whatever your situation may be.

I have steered clear of politics as a medium for change in diaspora circles, not because it is not a worthy cause, but because of my intrinsic belief that to champion the politics of a people, one has to be willing to be WITH the people. I find it hard to belief you can feel how hot a boiling pot is, from the safe observatory point of the cool table top. I do not believe in political change by proxy. But economics, in such a global world, can be a force of change no matter your global location. To those engaged in the quest for political change, it is a worthy cause and I commend your efforts. I believe a change in political environment and will, is the single most important way of changing a people's circumstance and accelerating them towards a prosperous nation. I do however strongly contend that our route to an improved and changed Africa lies in economic emancipation, compared to politics. The former lends itself to industrious and entrepreneurial people who have the control of what it takes to effect such change inspite the political circumstances - like most of us. The latter has too many factors out of the control of those who really want to see change, and hence is less promising, less tangible, and sees too many capable people staying on the sidelines and hoping for change

I am convinced we of the repatriate generation can continue to build this momentum of change and emancipation as we not only return to where our hearts are, but we take part in its transformation. We will also bring back a little of who we have become to Africa, so that it becomes an even better place for us all, representing us in the appropriate way, and competing at the level and potential which we all know it can.
There is a lot to be changed, and a lot of change this generation can bring. But i contend that economic change is the place to start.

SoP- September 2011
@34000 ft.

...Driving home

A mumbling silence  as tire hits road
Back to the void , to emptiness, to warmth so cold.
Desolation no consolation.
Worth it ? Should it ? Could it ?

An eeriness not seen or felt before
Wanton vanity , like chasing the wind.
Wesleyan hymns give chorus
To a lonely veneer ever so porous.

Living the life, la vida loca
Jetsettin',r'presentin',with vin and mocha
All the while shouting with silent voice
Pleading with listless stare

Needing more, Wanting more, Cant stand it no more.

Help! Its out there....Help!

SOP - August 2011

The Cyrene Privilege

..Loud and spitting people,
Cruel and frightful looking soldiers,
'Swish', the cane, time and time again!
Pandemonium, dust, anger, smell of blood.

Beaten man, battered man!
Heavy cross;They must really hate this guy.
I'll really hate to be him right now
All around; curses, stones, laughter, mockery.
What could he have really done to deserve all this?

Holy-looking pharisees,
Frightful looking followers; Crying women... this is crazy !

I should be on my way... WHAT!?
Me ? Take the cross ? Help him ? Why me ? Oh no!?
I was just passing, just watching ?!
I am out of luck!

This is really heavy! What could he have done to deserve this ?
How could he have anymore energy to lift this after all this beating and maiming?
Look at him - By God and the prophets, what has he done? Don't these people have pity?

Will I be able ? This Cross is weighing me down! I didn't bargain for this.
Its not mine to carry. This is killing me---all for someone I barely know.

This man... look at him...scarred, bloodied, hurt!
But the peace in his eyes, the humility in his step, the meekness in his pain, the determination in his countenance. He really believes he is up to something groundbreaking here.
This Jesus must be made out of stone!. Why is he doing this ? Why not just denounce and go his way ?
Why will he endure all this ? And go through all this ? Didnt I hear Pilate gave him a way out ?

He must really believe what he is doing.
He must really love his followers...
He must really really be committed to his cause and His Father.
I guess  helping him out is not that bad after all.
I suppose I can carry for a few metres , what he has carried a whole long way!
I think I can help this man, even if I was only forced to do it.
I think I will bear the weight, only if to give him some temporal respite.

I think I can do it.

I think i can; I know I should; Its the right thing to do ...

I always wondered what Simon of Cyrene thought when he was ordered to help Jesus carry his cross unto Calvary. I was gonna preach on this but i really cannot do it justice ...not at this time. So I just put down some disjoint thoughts.

History and the Bible don't give enough information about him for us to know if he was or wasn't a follower of Christ. Either way, he secures a very enviable place in my heart, as being the one man to have helped Jesus on his way to save me. I cant expound anymore on this but just say that, whatever his intentions were, and however it came to be that he was asked to help the King of Kings -  It was a privilege no one else in the world would ever  have again!

I would have loved to be Simon of Cyrene... I don't know about you.
But to carry the cross, endure the whip, the scorching sun, the dust, the dirt, the stones, and the curses.
I would have loved - if only for a short way off - to have helped my Saviour, as he toiled to save me.
I would have loved to be Simon of Cyrene, even if i didn't intend on being him from the start.

Maybe Simon didn't know the 'why', but I do.
Maybe Simon didn't want to try, but I would.
Maybe Simon wasn't sure of it all , but I  am.

I would have loved to help my Saviour, my redeemer, my king.
I would have been scared, but I would have loved to try...show him, how much he meant to me.
Such that if carrying that cross was all I could do , I would have carried it like a king carried a crown.

But wait! I think I still can!
I can still carry my cross - And be Simon in my own way...my own very small way.
I can bear the cross of the world, love my enemies, endure scorn for righteousness.
I think I still can stand for the right, and say no to wrong, and go against the tide.
I think I still can love my neighbour, help the needy, forgive my wrongdoers.
I think I can still carry the cross and follow my Jesus .
I might not be Simon, but I think I can still try to help Jesus , My Lord.

'Cos I know He did it for no one else but me.
'Cos I know the blood,the sweat, the tears....were shed for me.
'Cos I know he deserved it not, but bore it all.
And 'cos I know it was gonna be alright, come Easter Sunday.

Happy Easter.

SoP - April 2011

By the content of our Character: An Anglophone Application

" I have a dream that one day, my four little children  will not be
judged by the colour of their skin, but by the content of their
character" Martin Luther King Jr.

... judged by the content of their character. Content of their character.
What a lofty ideal. What a universally correct ideal.

As America celebrated Martin Luther King Jr day, this week, I was
forced to look into the struggle of the black American people as a
whole - their past suffering, present predicaments, but also how far
they have come from the day when a generation of courageous voices
just could not keep quiet anymore. I was particularly struck by the
massive difference one man could make by saying something so
universally true, and so alarmingly obvious that it makes people
wonder why they had not thought of it like that before; it makes them
ask themselves 'What have we been thinking?";it starts a self reflection;
a soul-searching appeal not to emotion or societal norm but to conscience
and common sense.  He puts it in such  a simple and accessible way
that everyone could  to stop, think and take notice. I am glad people took
notice of this vocal generation - our world is better for it.  Like Dr. King,
Mandela or Ghandhi, we are pointed towards the fact that it is a moral
 handicap to keep quiet on any injustice or bias we find in our
community or society , no matter how small.
 It is our duty to call it out, like it is, and hope that
those with the power to change, can hear , listen, rethink, and change
course. Usually not for the betterment of the generation that starts
this change, but in preparation for a generation that will reap the
benefits and be better for it. Something I like to term generational
sacrifice. A worthy idea which has been done before, and an example to
be emulated by all who see a need for a change.


It would be a terrible mis-characterization to compare the struggles
of all these people in the world to something as insignificant as what
I call our 'Anglophone problem'. And this is not what I want to do. I
am simply borrowing the mindset by which these sacrificial generation
of people faced their problems, and postulating that their modus
operandi of 'speaking  out , and making it plain ' can engender positive
discourse and possibly change our societal ills, especially when
succinctly and honestly presented.

Every society has its ills.... I think it is a sociological mainstay
for a people to seek and guard their identities by championing their
individuality and superiority, usually at the expense of another such
sociological group. I even contend that identity is a good thing, for
it tells us who we are, and gives us a sense of belonging. But what I
think is wrong with the quest for identity is the latter part of that
statement; when our quest for identity and society overshadows our
humanity and common sense. When a need to feel superior or even just
different, makes the yardstick for judgment  identity, not “content of character’.
I want to think we are humans first, and then African, or
Americans later; That we are Cameroonians first, before anglophone or
francophone; That we are Anglophones first before we are 'sawa' or
'graffi'.

I have reduced this really universal concept down to a small
problem in a small nation in a small corner of the world. I am writing
on a problem which hits close to home, my home. But I am writing
because I can't stay silent and watch generation after generation make
the same mistake -consciously or unconsciously - the latter being even
more dangerous than the former.

A little background.

As a Cameroonian , I was born and bred in the English-speaking part of
that nation, whose people are called the Anglophones. Anglophones are divided along
provincial lines; the northwest and southwest . Their people share a
common bond of being governed by the British during colonial times
before being joined to the French part of Cameroon after the colonial
era ended. This is no history lesson; just a pointer towards a very
common ancestry shared by us. As is the case with the whole of
Cameroon. These regions are home to a large array of tribes, and an
even larger set of villages, each with their own heritage, culture and
worldview. But due to colonial boundaries and administrative
geography, the northwest and southwest have fostered a separate
identity following provincial lines, and an animosity against each has
brewed and spread from one generation right down to mine; something
I inherently have a problem with!

Let me tell u a story - My story.
Thing is, I was raised in the southwest by parents from the
northwest. As a child playing with all the other children, we spoke
Pidgin and English together, and I was totally comfortable with them
having a separate tribal language , as we did at home. But as I grew older,I
came to realise there was more to this issue when a set of 'more
informed' kids at school called me 'Mojili' (which loosely translates
to stranger, but  in a derogatory sort of way). My understanding grew
as I learned and realized that though I was born and bred here in the
southwest ( and at that time knew more words in the local language
than I knew of my parents language), I was intrinsically not
classified as being a 'sawa'. My name, and not my life , environment
nor influences or character already assigned me into a group of people
far away from those I knew and was born with. If that were all, then I
would have no reason to write this, because heritage follows us
everywhere we go. The issue is that I was not only bundled with the
northwest, but was bundled with the stereotypes and the resentment
felt towards the northwesterner or graffi people, by the
southwesterner or sawa people (both terms technically inaccurate, but
widely and loosely used).

As an assigned 'graffi boy', I was supposedly by nature avaricious,
uncivilised (forget that I learnt my manners from the sawa part of my
world), dirty, uncouth , highly unintellectual and
unsophisticated,having no 'joie de vivre', lacking in swagger and
above all not to be trusted. As a kid,  I couldn't understand these
differences, neither could I comprehend the resentment showed to me by
some of my peers. I thought I was relatively civilised, with a good
enough IQ, and my mother used to scrub me spanking clean on a regular
basis!! And having mastered 2 languages (pidgin is a language too),
and knew a couple of words in two others (bakweri and Ngie), I figured
I could be considered quite sophisticated for my age, and I had mad
Micheal Jackson skills ( hence excess swagger)! But helas, that was
not how I was seen. These kids, who were actually worse than me in
school, made it a point to draw the lines with me on the 'other' side
every-time an opportunity arose. Not to worry...I wasn't
'psychologically damaged ' as should be the modern case here (I grew
up in Africa, ok ? We generally come tougher than that!), but I became
painfully aware of this bias and resentment towards the graffi people
in sawaland, my land (or so I thought!).I discovered a deep rift between
who I was, and who I was supposed to be. A divide and
disconnection of my person that had been engendered through
colonialism and fostered through a build-up of resentment that grew
(in my understanding) from the massive resettlement of the graffi in
sawaland due to the enormous natural resources therein, and the
availability of plantation jobs in this region. Furthermore,the 'mixing' of its
people using a job transfer system by the Cameroonian government that
moved families and people all around the country, away from their
tribes and villages also contributed to this resettlement. Terms like
'cam no go', 'Mojili', to name a few were thrown around with
regularity, and even used as a political tool by politicians.

(Cue in Teenage me ) Due to secondary school choice, I had my
secondary and high school education in northwest province. I in turn
came in contact with the graffi side of the stereotypes. Now, my
family name is quite anomalous for the region from which my Dad hails
(some Nigerian tribes also have the name) and fortunately (or
unfortunately), cannot be easily identified as graffi or sawa as most
other names can. Consequently I always got asked in if i was sawa or
graffi, since my name didnt reveal much. Growing up in sawaland, and
now finding myself in the northwest, I quickly realised what sawa
people like myself were  supposed to be ; lazy, haughty,
materialistic, dubious and cunning, traitors of the Anglophone cause
(I will not even go there!), having too much joie de vivre, and above
all , not to be trusted!. Whew!


I began to understand that these stereotypes had become so deeply
rooted in the fabric of my society to the level that inter-marriage or
even deep friendship was almost anathema on both sides. A culture of 'we
are better than you' was so far entrenched even with the 'educated' of
both of my societies that if anyone wanted to know who you were...all
they needed to know what the spelling of your name! Content of your
character ? Not needed!... your name was enough! A sort of tribalism
and pseudo-sociological identity groups born from colonial
administrative lines (hence a misnomer) was what we had inherited. An
attitude of distrust which limited avenues of co-operation and
betterment of our Anglophone society in particular, and our country as
a whole. The rift showed up everywhere: in schools, local government,
and churches (yes, church!). Family members and friends will
tell me to marry anyone in the world but a sawa girl or 'Nkwah', because no
matter how they were raised or what God they profess, they will
still only love you for your money and will cheat on you with other
men! And of course my sawa friends could not imagine themselves with
those classless graffi men - all work and no intellect, no life, no
style, no romance ? Nah! Didn't matter if they were the most
accomplished professionals or the most expensively clothed people on
the block, they just didn't have the social swagger and aptitude to
attract or interest them. The verdict was clear ; you are who you are depending
on where you come from. And to keep the 'purity' of our more
superior ways, we will have nothing to do with you, your tribe,
your men or your women.


This is quite an alarming mindset which has been fostered from
generation to generation, given its really pitiful origins. Our
grandparents passed it on to our parents who have passed it on to us.
And from what I see, we are conscientiously passing it on to the next
generation of Anglophones.The saddest thing in all this is how hollow
and ephemeral its origins were. Our ancestries are similar, our
history is similar,our customs are similar, our common language (English) is similar, but our
administrative province different! And that tiny difference causes so
much strife ? How can such an intelligent and sophisticated people like us allow such trivial differences as colonial and political administrative lines build such glaring divides between us ?


Stereotypes are usually kept alive either by lack of knowledge, or
propagated for gain of one over the other. In this case, neither of
the above is in play here as none of sawa or graffi gain any benefit
over the other in actuality, and given how much more educated and
informed our generation has become in a short amount of time, our
behaviour cannot be tied down to a dearth of knowledge.

Our parents maybe had the excuse of little or no integration and hence a lack of
knowledge. They also had the excuse of lower education and interaction
with each other - we don't! We have grown knowing Enanga next door,
and gone to school with Ngwa. Bih was the girl with alot of style at
the school dance and Agbor was the hardest working student on your
university course. Legima and Nkemfack were the smartest kids in your
class; Che and Oben couldn't have been more similar in their dullness!
We have all seen these people , grown with them, and know them. It
doesn't take rocket science to see that a mixture of people brings a
mixture of traits, and we have become even more similar simply by
living with, and growing with, and studying with each other.
Content of character..anybody ?


If we are honest with ourselves as Anglophones, we will know that the
very descriptions we have used for the 'other' can easily be applied
to one or two people we know. And they are not sawa or graffi. Yet we
still propagate this divisive worldview and use these labels with
contempt....just because 'mammi' and 'papa' and uncle said so. We
distinguish ourselves; 'Northwest meeting', 'southwest meeting',
northwest football team' ' southwest social club', not just for cultural
 heritage (I am not against cultural and tribal identity)  but
in tandem carry on this animosity towards the other, both consciously
and unconsciously. This continues even in the diaspora where one
should think finding another Cameroonian (not to talk of Anglophone)
would be a source of joy, and an opportunity to celebrate the many
more things that bring us together, than those that tear us apart. We
still live in our parents world, and cling onto a worldview which was
passed down to us like a hereditary gene. The only problem is, it is
one built on less than solid foundations and one which hampers the so
many things we can do together.  Given the advantages God and life
have afforded this generation- knowledge, power, travel, interaction,
education - we cannot in good conscience make the same mistakes our
parents made, by judging the name of the man instead of the content of
the man. We keep fighting our parents' war of words and
ideologies...thing is, we don't even know why we keep fighting, as the
reasons become less apparent and  and the arguments terribly skewed to most of us! But it
seems like we simply can't stop ourselves. We are in perpetual motion,
and like Newton's second law have a lot of inertia . A braking force
is all we need; a call to civility amongst ourselves is really all
there is or at least a good starting point, because in all truth, there is
not much to fight about.


Stereotypes have always existed, and will continue to exist. But time
comes when a stereotype can no longer hold up; when the voice of
reason and humanity rises against it. I think as Anglophones, we are
at that time. We know better, we understand better, we are called to do better.
Name-calling and judgmental statements do not help.
Isolation - one from the other - doesn't help either. Stereotypes may
have some truth, but they are usually very flawed, incomplete , and
definitely obsolete with time and where there is shared knowledge, shared
humanity, and shared causes. We have these in abundance...why not
take advantage of them ? If we make  a case of promoting our
individual virtues, then we will have even more cause to celebrate our
society and country when we include our brothers and sisters of the
same tongue!
Our individuality should not breed individualism; the former lends itself to
 strong community, the latter undermines it. Maybe I am naive to think deep
routed stereotypes can be dissolved only by discourse and education.
But like all those generations of people before us, who tackled bigger problems
like racial barriers and human rights, I believe voices of reason at the
appropriate time can always go a very long way. For me, this is the
generation to start that discourse; the generation to raise that voice;
 this is the generation to sacrifice and end this petty rivalry. At
the end of it all, we all just want to be together and happy, so in
the famous words of Dr King ' Why can't we all just get along?"

SoP - Jan 2011

... By God I'll try

You can count on me.
To love and to comfort.
To have and to hold.

You can count on me.
To try to make it better.
To give my best for you, right down to the letter!
To keep the SC smile  on you
And to  always go the extra mile for you.

You can tell me...
Your fears, your insecurities;
Your dreams your aspirations.
You can tell me.
The darker parts that hold you down;
The ties of the past that keep you bound.

For though I be human,  will dependably be there to listen.
Answers I might have not, but will forever strenghten .
Your will, your drive, your soul... your all.
Even if all I have to do is to remind you , " So what ?".


You can depend on me.
To be your greatest fan and fiercest critique.
To uplift your inner person, and ground your straying spirit.
To give the warmth of my body , and the strength of my charm.
To try and love you for who you are;
To take it all and still be there in arms.

You can love me
'Cos I'll with all my might value you.
'Cos I'll not try to ever take advantage of you.
'Cos i'll be there for you...

Do let me do me, and be me....cos I wanna love you.

I ain't all that...but by God I'll try.

SOP-EAU

To be or not to be...African! :

 The multiple personality syndrome of the post-modern African in the diaspora.

To be or not to be-African !?

How do I jive to Tupac and still gyrate to 2face ?
How do I appreciate hors d'oeuvres, and still salivate for Garri ?
How can I be modernly western , and yet wholly African ?
How do I  identify with the 'Obama dream' and still  hold on to the Pan-African ideals of Nkrumah ?

To be or not to be ?  "Hmm... I can't say "

How do I  integrate into where i live (or was born) and not sacrifice who I am  and where I come from ?
How do I to portray my 'civilised western expression', and not forsake my intrinsic African connection?

To be or not to be ? "Hmm...I really cant say! "

In my wanderings and encounters with the younger generations of Africans, especially those in the diaspora,  I have heard, noticed or deduced this inner struggle with who we are, what we are , and ultimately how we want to be seen or identified. Some will call it an identity crisis ; others will term it forsaking your roots. Whatever name it is called, this conundrum runs from  Berlin  to Los Angeles; from the Mediterranean to Moscow . It is the dilemma the young African generation face in defining themselves , and finding the right balance between where they come from, and where they ultimately are headed.  The issue only gets more complicated with second and third generations - those who were born of African parents but have never really known what their heritage is, or had the attachment to Africa that some of the older generation possess. These younger ones face an even more difficult task - their names betray their ancestry, but their personalities have no resemblance to the continent to which they are identified with by society. This younger generation i presume, have the option of being defined by how comfortable they are with their place of birth or ancestry. I think it will serve you well to learn about where your parents come from, and that might help you choose how you want to represent yourself.

The abiding question is ; Why the confusion ? If you were born in Africa , then why try to be something else?  And in all truth , there is no simple answer to that question. But the closest answer is the fact that you simply are not the 'African' as defined by our parents and our past. The new generation do not identify with the mediocrity and failures of the past generations because they themselves have come out and succeeded in chasing their dreams. So in as much as they are African, it is hard to identify with that tag, because it simply is not who they are! The naked uncivilized African; the blood thirsty African ;  the not-so-smart or cool African; the ever-warring African ; The African as defined by the John Lockes of the western world, and the Africa perpetrated by the Mubutus and the Idi Amins. Yes, they identify this as their history but refuse to accept these people and their principles as representative of who they have become. At the same time, they do feel inherently different from those around them, even though they might speak fluent German or articulate like the Scousers or Yankees. In the end, we find ourselves not belonging here and not accepting to belong 'there'.
What to do ? A classic case of a generational multiple personality disorder,  where you seem to behave completely differently when you are in the presence of Westerners or Africans. We find ourselves being second best and pitiful knock-off versions of who we want to be, as we try to be something we are not. Because in reality we cannot beat African-Americans at being African-American !? Or the Jamaicans at being Caribbean !? We are not African-American , or Brit or Caribbean..No! We are simply  ' African'. Try any other way and you will come off as fake and phony, and miss out on the enormous personality, potential and prestige that can be, if we become the best version of us!  The good thing is - you don't have to be phony to be accepted! There is a niche out there just for you, and nobody else does it better!

First off , I believe it is not a question of 'this' or 'that'.  I think we should be allowed to have the best of both worlds, because we belong to both (because, face it; we wont be having this discussion if either of these separate cultures and worldviews were intrinsically appealing to our entirety)! That is who we are ! And yes, this is what we define as African. We do not have to avoid the subject - we instead need to  change the terms and definitions. For us, Africa is described by a knowledge of our rich culture , but also a western influence ingrained in our music and our intellect. Being African now means being a master of more than one language and more than one accent. We can quote J. P. Sartre as easily as we can rattle the words of Soyinka, Achebe, and Mongo Beti. Our heros as as much Mandela and Biko  as they are Obama. We are unapologetic about the fact that we can speak impeccable English but then rattle pidgin and broken in the same breath! Today's African is defined as the multi-talented and multi-cultural black and brown beaus/beauties, who know the different vintages of wine, but will never forget the taste of palm wine. We like the white marriage robes, but we still give prominence to  our colourful traditional wedding ceremonies! Family and community still matter alot to us, but we try to be as self-reliant as possible. We have become versed in both YOUR history and OUR history...and we make no apologies for knowing so much , seeing so much, and being so much.
It is a pity you cannot categorize us into this and that anymore...because in all truth, we are no longer that easily lumped into those stereotypes. We should celebrate our uniqueness as a continent ,and diversity as individual countries in the whole; giving full reverence to our ancestry and heritage, but also accepting the  western components of who we have become. It is ok to rap along with Jay-Z in flawless 'flow', and still be able to 'Ginga your swagga'. We can recite Shakespeare and Tennyson, but  still discuss the literary nuances  of Ngugi and Senghor.We grew up listening to both Micheal Jackson and Prince Nico; Kofiu Olomide.  We are unapologetic about our plurality. don't hate… appreciate! ...uhuh! we can say it like that too! Let nobody tell you otherwise...IT IS OK! If they can't handle your multi-dimensionality...that's their loss, but this is how we define 'African' now.  We are a product of our history and our politics; of our past and our present;We are a generation with influences from every country we have settled in seeking a better life ; We are African and couldn't be any prouder!
But for us to be able to change the existing paradigm ; for the prevailing perception to shift from the 'old African ' to the 'new African', we have alot to do, and a long way to go. Some things we have to do to ourselves first, before the rest of the world can believe our new definition of being African. We have to :

Learn.  Represent.  Educate.

We have to Learn. Know about where we come from. Know where your parents come from.' My people die for lack of knowledge' the Bible says ; our identity will die principally from lack of knowledge, not only by the rest of the world but also by us. Learn about the mistakes the triumphs and the rich culture of your country and Africa as a whole, that makes you so uniquely different from every other black person in the world. Learn about Guinea and Ghana ; the Zulu and Kanem Bornu empires . About Kenyatta and Nyerere. Remember the languages you use back home (I daresay especially pidgin due to its near universality for the English speaking countries), and strive to make your kids know them too. You can only be proud of something you know.

We have to Represent . Show where we come from. Be the best of the best where ever we are, and recognise our African heritage at every possible turn. We should suit up and dress up in the very best there is out there, but not fail to include the astounding variety and class of our African designs and designers. We should listen to our music in the same playlist as the rnbs,souls and hiphops of this world, and communicate our coolness to one another and our progeny. We need to 'hype us up' , because no one else will!

We have to Educate. We have to introduce the world to the new African.  Teach your friends, colleagues, and contemporaries about the Africa you know. Tell them about the good, the bad  and the ugly; make them know the truth about that  reality which has been skewed over time by the media and the press. Tell them a different story of Africa - as Chimamanda will put it- our really happy childhoods (we didn't have Nintendo , but how we jumped rope and played football!), our communal and infectious singing and dancing, our courteous neighbours. Don't hide the pain and the suffering either, but let them know that despite all the doom and gloom, we could always find a way to smile and be one of the happier continents in the world. Tell them the story of the doctors and nurses who made it from lowly beginnings in Africa and are living the American dream; introduce them to the lawyers and bankers in Britain who barely made it through secondary school but now are living and achieving their dreams; let them know of the engineers in Bavaria who despite the inaccessible lab resources have become the go-to men and women of their companies. Introduce them to YOU and ME.Make them see the intellectual , classy, and diverse African. And do not apologize for having a slightly different accent....they do have an accent too you know! Ultimately , living in the western world, you have to be able to sell your identity. Its all about the packaging, and the confidence with which that packaging is presented.

Methinks we are in a defining era wherein if we succeed to change the terms on which we as Africans are defined, then we would have done a service not only to ourselves, but the our children and our childrens children. They no longer will face the everlasting question of 'to be or not to be' ?. Our redefinition of what it is to be African will foster confidence and camaraderie amongst us, and ultimately, the hope and potential we have shall flourish and blossom as we re-introduce Africa to the world. We would have succeeded in stopping ourselves from  asking  these questions, and letting others do the asking and wondering. But this time around when the questions come , we will be ready with the answers, because we have it all sorted !

To be or not to be ?  "Hmm! Not really.... lemme introduce you to Africa; let me introduce you to ME!"

SoP --- 27/10/10

Good-intentioned condescension! What to do ?

'There is a very thin line between genuine help , good-natured condescension and pity. It is usually quite comical when you are the recipient of any of the above from people who identify with you. You most often want to correct such naivete when you come across it, but most times, you are just too plain tired of trying. Simply because you meet it ever so often out here, even among good-natured friends and well meaning educated people " EAU.

I wrote the above on my profile and got quite a couple of confirmatory nods of recognition, because it is something that I think every one of us, Africans living or studying in the Western world have encountered at one time or the other. Sometimes, it is horribly blatant, and other times, it is just subtle. However we meet it, it invariably generates a myriad of emotions - from controlled rage to mild pity . I am pretty sure this will apply to Asians and Arabs too, as we get to meet and greet with the 'learned west', only to recognise that even the most learned of them, can still have this sort of good-intentioned condescension.

For those who do not know what I am taking about, I might try to elucidate briefly. Have you ever encountered a situation where someone , in trying to 'help' you or most commonly 'identify' with you, says or does the very things that you consider both insulting to your person and amazed at the naivete being portrayed ? I know I have...many many times. Living in Europe means that you will meet those people, who while smiling at you, and have all the good intentions of offering you to come have dinner at their house do so with the thought ' Ah...he is from poor africa...where those kids are always starving -- lets welcom him in... do our part for humanity!'. Again, not everyone you meet has this myopic view of Africa, but it does suprise me how many of the 'educated' people I meet still make my toes twitch with some of their misplaced actions or comments.

Now lets get something out of the way! I am not talking about racists! I cannot dignify them with any sort of discourse; but I am talking of the sometimes well-intentioned people who still 'don't get it!". They refuse or fail to understand that , actually, you did have a really good childhood, and yes, you might wear your african top (which I find particulary sexy sometimes), but it doesnt mean you are lost and cannot read the train and bus signs on the road. These people mean well.... well, most of the time, but their basis of goodwill is somewhat distorted by the little they know...what Ngozie Adichie calls 'the danger of a single story'. We know the press and literature over the years have given them this picture , but you can only use that as an excuse for a while....atleast thats my thought. There is more than press , as a source of information. Maybe if you ask US...we might be better placed to tell you the nuances of our culture and outlook... yes, and we might tell you senegal is nowhere close to Cameroon, and Nigeria doesnt share a border with your last safari trip destination! And no! When we decide to dress african, it doesnt mean we have never been to school.... schools do actually exist in Africa you know.... and good ones too. And double no!... the fact that I am from Cameroon doesnt mean I know the barman you met on your one vacation trip to Tanzania!! And please... please dont ask me if I speak africans again!! Finally.... I am not that hungry, or starved! Have never been - and with the gifts God has bestowed on me - hopefully will never be!. In all honesty, sometimes it wants to make you pull your hair out. But most times, you know they mean well, but have a gaping hole in their information about who you are, and what you are about.

The truth is , you can't educate everyone who throws things like that at you... it gets tiring because they are too many. From professors, to co-workers. From ministers trying to campaign for charity for hungry africans (and how they always throw an affirmatory nod in your direction if you are seated in the audience, you know, as if to say, " you know what I am taking about right ? This is for you... I know how you feel and where you come from, and I am doing this for you--- hakuna matata!"). It can make you sick in the stomach that those who are supposed to be so much more knowlegeable still fall prey to the very things they seem to loathe about 'other people'.
What to do ? I leave you to answer ?

Arent we all guilty of this at one time or the other ? I think we are, but with a little caveat! Our cultural background and upbringing teaches us alot of intrinsic humility, such that , though we might assume a single story, we usually do not approach it with a 'know all' mentality. That is the difference. I guess it is an advantage borne as a result of the sad fact of having been lorded over for a large part of history, but nonetheless, it makes us have a little doubt in things we say; like 'maybe I am not that accurate about them after all'. It leaves room for doubt in dealing with humanity, which I propose is a good thing. Room to doubt our own knowledge and question our conclusions is probably what alot of the world needs now, in our dealings with people from different tongues , creeds, and cultures. Because out of this doubt is borne a deference and an eagerness to learn; out of this deference is borne a humility in taking people at face-value, and asking THEM about THEIR story, and not clinging to what we saw on BBC or CNN. I am actually still waiting for that day where such news media will run positive programs about my continent like ' enjoyin life as a cameroonian university youth', or ' happiness from a nigerian musical perspective'. Maybe such will make the world know that happiness does mean different things to different people in different circumstances, and we are not all starving or infested with HIV.

I will conclude with two instances in my life that personified what I have been trying to say. I reacted differently in both instances, but I guess I got the best results too -- you be the judge;

Instance 1: I was eating lunch with my colleagues a few months ago, and I think I had more than was necessary for me that day, and so I tossed some of my food into the garbage bin. I had a colleague (who I must confess hates waste of anything) tell me ' why are you throwing that food ? You of all people should know how valuable it is, given where you come from --- you know, there is alot of hunger in Africa '. Now, in this instance, I couldnt remain christianly calm, so I blew my top (moderately), and gave a piece of it to him in the most holy way I could (well honestly, it wasnt that Holy). I made him know in no uncertain terms that he probably grew up hungrier than myself because I did grow up in a really well-fed house (I have the jaws and the butt to prove it!). And the fact that some parts of Africa had hunger issues doesnt mean I am any more knowlegeable of the concept than he was ? Newsflash - It is a continent, not a country! I told him I was sure that where he grew up, (Poland), there were more hungry people in his neigbourhood than mine. Now, I said all this in the most measured scientific calm I could muster given that we were surrounded by other 'elite' thinkers who had not seen anything wrong with his statement. I left with a good result, as they were stunned to silence, and I got an apology after. It was well-intentioned, but the basis of information and conclusion was pitifully hollow .

Instance 2 : I live about 25 mins walk from my lab, which is smack in the city centre. Hence more often than not, I prefer to walk or take a bus instead of drive. This fateful morning a few weeks ago, I decided I had not worn my recently bought designer african top (yes, it was top Cameroonian designer kirette couture!). I knew I was looking good, but again, I knew I was also looking different for a spring morning. I realised I had an early morning meeting so I walked to the bus stop to see whether I could take a bus. The bus times were like 15 minutes off, and I was running late, so I decided to walk home and drive to work instead!. All this while, there was this homely old woman who was walking to the bus stop too, and had seen me looking at the bus details and walking away. She came up to me with this really nice smile and said very warmly ' Dont be bothered... the bus goes round and round , and comes back right here!... you can wait'.. and again the 'knowing' nod! I was slightly amused because I was sure she didnt do this to any of the other people standing at the bus stop, but somehow thought it worthwhile to help this man to know EXACTLY how a bus route functioned!. Well in this instance, I looked straight at her and mustered the most heavy african accent I could and deadpanned ' Thank you so much ... we love women who are kind like you in my village. I will like to marry you as my 14th wife,--- I have big farm! " . heheheheeh..... I still laugh when I remember the look on her face as she scurried off past the bus stand, in absolute horror!.

I know from all such instances I have reacted differently , and in some, I have had no reaction at all. I think my righteous anger has been dulled somewhat by the frequency of such events. My question is...is there a better way to treat such instances ? I know you have encountered one of such. If you have, do share with me your wisdom on how you dealt with it. For all I know condescension IS condescension.... good-intentioned or not. Infact, I do think good-intentioned condescension is tautology... I will prefer to say ' ignorant condescension'. What about you ?

EAU

What do you bring to the table ?

I read this article fleetingly once, and was actually impressed at first read at the clarity of the lady who spoke. I thought about how much it took to know who you were and what you wanted. But the more I read, the more my thoughts shifted to how easily we could put the bar on others, and instead of selling yourself, you sell your wants and needs and standards from others.
Lemme stop, just read, and lemme know your thoughts if you have any:

In a brief conversation, a man asked a woman he was pursuing the question...
"What kind of man are you looking for?"

She sat quietly for a moment before looking him in the eye and asking.
"Do you really want to know?"

Reluctantly, he said, "Yes."

She began to expound... As a woman in this day and age, I am in a position to
ask a man what he can do for me that I can't do for myself. I pay my own bills.
I take care of my household without the help of any man. I am in the position to
ask, "What can you bring to the table?"

The man looked at her. Clearly he thought that she was referring to money.

She quickly corrected his thought and stated, "I am not referring to money. I
need something more." I need a man who is striving for perfection in every
aspect of life." He sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and asked her to explain.

She said, "I am looking for someone who is striving for perfection mentally
because I need conversation and mental stimulation. I don't need a simple-minded
man." I am looking for someone who is striving for perfection spiritually
because I don't need to be unequally yoked... believers mixed with unbelievers
is a recipe for disaster. I need a man who is striving for perfection
financially because I don't need a financial burden. I am looking for someone
who is sensitive enough to understand what I go through as a woman, but strong
enough to keep me grounded. I am looking for someone who I can respect. In order
to be submissive, I must respect him. I cannot be submissive to a man who isn't
taking care of his business. I have no problem being submissive...he just has to
be worthy. God made woman to be a helpmate for man. I can't help a man if he
can't help himself. When she finished her spill, she looked at him. He sat there
with a puzzled look on his face.

He said, "You're asking a lot."

She replied, "I'm worth a lot."
And he asked ? What are you worth?..What do YOU bring to the table , for someone to get through all this for you ?

And she answered ?......... ( Fill in the blank, if you can ).

EAU