RIP - MAMI APPIH

Recently, I spoke with some friends of mine. We talked about little nothings… drinks, girls, politics… everything… anything… like many do.

The chapter on politics caught my attention and I realised that while we agreed on many issues, our knowledge and outlook on the anglophone problem were miles apart. It seemed to me that the analytic rigour and variety of sources that informed their opinions on other issues suddenly evaporated once they had to discuss the Anglophone problem. I tried to put in a few words unsuccessfully. Then I realised that I had to wait for my moment.

The conversation ran its course and glided into preparations for the African Cup of Nations (AFCON) 2019 and Cameroon’s readiness to host the tournament. We exchanged for a while over the matter and my impression was that they didn’t feel optimistic at all. They argued that the decision by Cameroon to bid to host the tournament in 2018 was meant to create a national buzz and feel-good feeling in the months leading up to the tournament in the hope that the feel-good atmosphere would translate into votes in the presidential elections three months to the start of the tournament.

My friends, Francophone civil servants, were passionate in their arguments and raised numerous examples of how the government had used success in the sports fields for political advantage in the past.

Though I put it to them that the Head of state had made a public engagement that the tournament will take place and that the Minister of Sports and Physical Education had given numerous press briefings in which he gave facts and figures about the progress of preparations, my friends wouldn’t move from their skepticism. They argued that they had stopped trusting the government a long time ago and that their assessment and knowledge of their country were based primarily on their observation of it and on tangible achievements.

To further make their case, they reminded me (since it seemed obvious to them that I needed reminders) that:

1. The government had given similar reassurances in the late 1990s that it had resolutely turned the page on corruption with the introduction of Article 66 in the constitution. They felt the need to remind me (with insistence) that Article 66 states that all elected persons, members of government and persons appointed to hold high offices were expected to declare their assets prior to taking office; and I could see the mocking smile on their faces when they said that the constitutional provision referred to was yet to be implemented.

2. Despite the fact that government has talked about decentralization for 22 years, all seemed to be done to ensure the perpetuation of a centralized government whereby even the construction of a classroom in a remote village is decided in Yaoundé.

3. Government had made numerous statements about the Kribi deep sea port, the fact that it was scheduled to go operational in 2014 and the transformational / revolutionary effect that it would have on the Cameroonian economy. They added that officials had even been appointed to the port including a Board of Directors and a General Manager in August 2016. Yet… not a single commercial vessel had accosted at the port years after its scheduled take-off.

4. The Head of State made several engagements about the holding of the Agro-Pastoral show which finally took place in Ebolowa in 2011 (several years late) and the celebration of the 50th anniversaries of independence and reunification in Buea which took place three years later than the highest authority in the land had “been made to promise”

5. Last-gasp attempts by members of government and other officials to justify the quality (or lack thereof) of 500,000 computers seemed frantic, erratic and ultimately desperate.

They were sure that they had made their case and cited no further examples. I was also convinced, if I hadn’t yet been, that government statements had to be taken with a pinch of salt.

So I asked them about Mami Appih… the atmosphere changed. My friends became less comfortable and less forthcoming. They hesitated, looked at each other. The telepathy was almost palpable and in what seemed like a rehearsed chorus, they said that they didn’t know what I was talking about.

I made a gesture of approval and consented that Mami Appih may not be a household name to many. Then I went on…

I told them that in the past few days, there had been reports that the military had put fire to a whole neighbourhood in the locality of Kwakwa in the South West Region. Able bodied men had fled into the bushes and a 96 year-old woman who could not escape had been burnt to ashes in her house. Early returnees came back, gathered what was left of her bones and mourned her tragic and painful death. I concluded that the old woman was called Mami Appih.

The atmosphere became somewhat tense. My friends didn’t want to talk about it. In fact, one remembered that it was lunch time and had to go and find something to eat. The other remembered an urgent task that his boss had given him and that he had to complete quickly.

I was having none of that.

I told them that I intended to continue the exchange to the end.

They mumbled some insignificant nothings and advised me not to listen to social media rumours. They insisted that with regards to events in the North West and South West Regions, they would rather wait for a full investigation to be made and the conclusions announced by government and advised that I should do same. They added that the pictures shown on social media may have been photoshopped in an attempt to smear the image of Cameroon.

I had been patient to listen to all the lengthy arguments they had made (and which I could argue better) about why government statements must be corroborated by personal observation and I remarked that I hadn’t said anything about any images available on social media.

It became clear to me that they knew Mami Appih or, if they didn’t, at least they knew about her. The conversation, though increasingly less cosy, remained polite. Their discomfort was clear and they were more ready to immediately attend to other persons who came along or to try to start a conversation with other persons who were just walking past. I hung in there like a Rottweiler. I bit and shook without letting go.

I questioned why they were so dismissive of government statements and promises on issues such as the “gift” of 500,000 computers by the Head of State to students but were inclined to trust a government sponsored investigation into the death of Mami Appih.

I questioned why they didn’t give any credit to the Head of State when he promised to accelerate the process of decentralization but trusted his commitment to dialogue as a path to resolving the Anglophone crisis. Pressing on this line of questioning, I alerted them (if this wasn’t obvious to them) that the Head of State was the highest executive authority in the land and that it seemed bizarre that he would call for dialogue as if there was another authority above him to orchestrate such dialogue.

I questioned why they were so skeptical about government’s assurances of the country’s readiness to host the AFCON in 2019 and yet go along with the same government narrativethat the Anglophone community was being manipulated by external ‘forces’ into making unreasonable claims and requests. I reminded them that the same government had asked them (or all of us) not to fall prey to foreign attempts to manipulate Cameroonians into believing that the country would not be ready to host the AFCON…

The whole thing was turning into a monologue. So I digressed a little… and for a moment, we talked about football. We talked about the glory days of Cameroonian football. Everyone said where they were when Omam Biyik towered above the Argentine defence in 1990 and scored that winning goal against Maradonna’s defending champions. We talked about that moment when Song Bahanag, Samuel Eto’o, Patrick Mboma et al challenged Nigeria on Nigerian turf in Surulere to win the AFCON in 2000.

The exchange was alive again and no-one was in a hurry over lunch or some urgent task. So… of course… I made a sharp u-turn and asked why we could not all be equally Cameroonian over the brutal death of Mami Appih as we are around football or as we were around Monique Koumatekel.

I asked why there was such collective shock over the death of 70 (or so) people in the Eseka railway accident but such insensitivity in some parts of the country over the death of hundreds of Anglophones since 1st October 2017 (http://harryacha.blogspot.com/2018/01/my-hundred-friends.html).

I asked (and I knew that this would be my last question) why Cameroonians would so readily refer to their country as a land of legendary hospitality by citing thousands of refugees that have fled armed violence in Northern Nigeria and the Central African Republic to seek refuge in Cameroon and yet be completely oblivious to the thousands that have fled Cameroon to find refuge in South Eastern Nigeria as refugees.

By this time, tension had returned to the room and my friends clearly felt that I had taken them on a ride. The exchange had to end there. I thought it would, and YES… it did.

It had become impossible for them to use standard talking points built around terms such as “one and indivisible”, “living together” or “supreme interest of the state” since their personal (in)sensitivities as humans and their compassion (or lack thereof) for fellow humans had been engaged.

I wasn’t too sure if I should hold it against my friends as individuals though; because I was certain that if something happened to me while we were exchanging or if I had a health malaise or accident, I could rely on them to give me the best care and to rush me to hospital. My friends are good people… I give them that. And I have lived long enough in the Anglophone and Francophone regions of Cameroon to know that Francophones do not face any dangers in Anglophone regions nor do Anglophones living in Francophone regions.
THE REAL PROBLEM LIES AT THE LEVEL OF THE POLITICAL FORMATTING OF BOTH COMMUNITIES (NOT INDIVIDUAL PERSONS) AND THE WAYS IN WHICH THEY PERCEIVE EACH OTHER AS POLITICAL ENTITIES.

The history and political experience of both Francophones and Anglophones in Cameroon have led to the significant differences in their outlook of their political selves. Speaking in a television program of Equinoxe TV recently, Prof. Jean Koufan (historian) described what he perceived as a francophone complex – a feeling that the francophone community had after the departure of the French. To him, during the French administration the feeling of a vertically stratified society wherein the French were dominant and could impose their desires by force became so deeply entrenched and ‘normal’ that the after their departure, the francophone community saw itself as the new depository of power to be exercised over the Anglophone minority.

On their part, Anglophones joined the ‘union’ with the culture of a horizontal political arrangement where the administration had an organizational role and its methods and policies could be challenged by other seats of power.

The inability for some Francophones to feel the pain expressed by Anglophones or their insensitivity to the brutal assassination of Mami Appih may have nothing to do with the fundamental humanism of individual Francophones; but may have everything to do with the collective and unconscious urge to protect the vertical arrangement from which their complex emerges. This may explain why the establishment wouldn’t admit to the horrors and individuals would prefer either not to talk about them or to pretend that they didn’t happen.

For the Anglophones, the death of Mami Appih is not just another death amongst the hundreds registered since 1st October 2017. Rather, it is extreme exhibit of a difference in the value systems of both communities and evidence of the fact that for one of these communities, political survival and the maintenance of hegemony lies above human life.

Some radical Anglophones have also been authors of some despicable acts of violence that have led to loss of life and property. I have been unhesitant in condemning them and will continue to do so even when it may not meet the consent of the authors or their sympathizers.

As far as I am concerned, the spiral of violence is such that Cameroonians, both Anglophones and Francophones may have to take their responsibilities as INDIVIDUALS and call out the persons responsible for the degeneration of the crisis to answer for their actions or lack of action AS INDIVIDUALS.

As far as I am concerned, it is somewhat simple to say that a soldier’s job is to take instructions and thus to shoot if ordered to. The individual who pulls the trigger has a name and the person who gave him the order also has a name.

As far as I am concerned, underneath the masks and shields of public office, every elected or appointed official has a face; and the assumption that a given office acted or ordered an action and is therefore not criminally responsible as an individual is an escapist, myopic and irresponsible posture from which to govern persons and communities.

As far as I am concerned, violence from either side will only provoke increased violence on the other side until such a time when either one side exterminates the other (the G-word) or one side brings the other to coerced obedience (postponement of conflict).

As far as I am concerned, the majority of Cameroonians need to force actors on both sides of the divide to talk peace and in my opinion, the demographic majority has the responsibility to command the moral high ground.

As far as I am concerned, Anglophone Cameroonians are not enemies with their francophone compatriots but the extent of violence currently witnessed, the number of people killed and maimed, the number of people on the run, the insensitive rhetoric and the numbness to the pain of another is such that DIALOGUE pails into insignificance as a way forward.

It seems to me that the circumstances are such that both sides need to engage PEACE TALKS in order to create an environment for dialogue.

The claims made by some Anglophones and counterclaims made by some Francophones on the historical process that led to the current crisis is our collective possession and we all have the responsibility own it and be part of the process that determines its becoming.

That is why I say the things that I say… the way say them… the way I see them. That is why I write for the public… with my face… and with my name.

I may be the next Mami Appih (MAY THE WEIGHT OF THE EARTH BE LIGHT UPON HER) or it may be you. But whoever it is, THINK ABOUT IT…

Let no-one’s passing be so brutal or be such that any part of the community will cast doubt on whether, indeed, they passed.

Let it not not happen that you are forced to run away from your country because bullets bought with your taxes came against you and all others stayed insensitive to your fright, your flight and your plight.

It is time for every Cameroonian to decide to deserve better.

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