Last Sunday was a day of great pride for any Presbyterian worthy of the name. The transfer of the pectoral cross from the Very Rev. Nyansako-ni-nku to the Rt. Rev. Festus Asana was an event pregnant with significance. What struck me most was the fact that the ultimate symbol of spiritual authority over a Church that is at least a million strong is a cross, not a crown. Whatever glamour, pomp and splendour accompanied the transfer, the symbolism was unambiguous – that it was all about servitude, not power. And the unassuming new Moderator did not miss the point when he said “you did not come here today to honour two people (himself and the Synod Clerk) but to give glory to God.” Watching the event, I was interested in the expression on the faces of the political and administrative bigwigs in attendance. Of course, you can understand some poker faces. read more...

Somebody, please, tell me I am dreaming. Tell me this is only an episode in a Nollywood movie. Tell me that this place being twirled around a bloke’s little finger is not the country I gave up juicy job offers to return to.
My rambling mind now goes back to 1979 in Lansing, Michigan.“Red” Byrd, the crippled proprietor of WILS Radio could not believe I had just turned down his offer of what promised to be a key managerial position at the station. My reason: Cameroonians’ taxes had paid for my education in North America and I owed it to them to go back and contribute to the development of my country. There was a puzzling look on Byrd’s face when he heard me refer to Cameroon as “my country” with just as much pride as Americans refer to theirs. “Africa sure needs young men like you”, he said. “I wish for you that this sacrifice would prove worthwhile”. The innuendo smacked of afro-pessimism – enough, in other circumstances, to put me on the war path. But I clung on to the olive branch, excusing him for what I thought was his ignorance.

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As if by accident, November, the month in which the Presbyterian Church in Cameroon became autonomous, was also the month, 25 years ago, when power in Cameroon changed hands from a Muslim to a Christian. The change brought general euphoria not least because the new leader was an intellectual – in fact an ex-seminarian. His arrival therefore fuelled hopes that Christian values would thenceforth hold sway in the conduct of public affairs in Cameroon. It needs be said that, by a curious twist of fate, the old President hand-picked the new, and imposed him on the people. Had they actually chosen him, which could well have happened if they had been consulted, today the people would have been cursing their luck – or bad luck – because it is now clear that they drew a blank.

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As a national brand football once had only corruption to contend with in Cameroon. But there’s another that has been warming up in the wings, working its way to top rung, virtually unnoticed. It is a game called Chop-and-change, and the star player is none other than President Biya himself. Some say it is a mind game. No gainsaying that. What with the way he narcotizes us with it, beginning with the dizzying speed. Some others call it the chair dance, and I think that’s nearer home. Now, don’t say you don’t know what it is. It is an enjoyable party game. Chairs in a circle,  dancers in the middle, dancing. Each time the music stops the dancers return to the chairs. But the number of chairs keeps reducing and each time a dancer cannot find a seat to return to, the dance ends for him/her. read more...

Ah! Probity in our polity
Like an orphan crown prince -
Wanting in mettle and muscle
To hold his own
Against a brute impostor
Wily and uncouth;

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