– 6:31 pm
It’s already pitch black outside and feels like 10 pm. I can’t help but think that the sun’s still fully out at this same time in Cameroon. By now, the worst of that intolerable Douala heat has passed and the temperature is near perfect.
As a boy, any time after 5 pm was ideal football weather in the dry season. Turning up at different times after the hour, my friends and I would meet at the carrefour to play “Petit Goal” (meaning “Small Goal”). FYI, we have tonnes of such phrases, using English, French and Pidgin interchangeably in the same sentence. We make it up as we go and it sticks where it sticks. I had no idea Francanglais aka Francamglais was Wiki official.
Petit Goal is akin to regular 11-aside football, except there are no goalkeepers. The small goals eradicate the need for them, or for hands. Otherwise, the rules are the same. We never had dedicated pitches and typically played within neighbourhoods, off-road, or on side streets where erecting full-size goalposts would be disruptive and impractical. We only halted for cars, trucks and sometimes motorbikes. Passerbys had to walk through trying not to get hit by a ball.
To score at Petit Goal, your team had to get the ball through the “small goal”, which was usually two visibly large stones (or cones in the modern world). The goals are about four heel-to-toe footsteps apart. We used gutters, walls and fences to define the pitch area and refereed ourselves. I recall these memories as though created yesteryear.
Unfortunately for me though, I used to and still bruise very easily. I seldom went home without cuts or injuries. And this worried your grandparents a great deal, my dad especially I think. But I carried on playing and mostly wore trousers at home. One glance at my legs and you’d think they raised me crawling on broken glass. These scars can be stretched out for miles. There’s a hole on my right tibia that stands out the most. I came back from a game, as usual with a new wound and with every intention of hiding it from my parents. I hid for so long that it got infected and went septic. When your grandmother found out, it was so deep you could see my bone. Another week and I surely would’ve lost my leg.
They sent me to a house I already knew all too well, about 10 mins from ours, 6 mins from the carrefour, to Captain Kingyang’s. He was a retired medic from the army who had an infirmary at his house for the likes of me. He always wore a stern expression. You had better not cry or show any weakness while on his bench. He only had to stop and look you dead in the eye to command your silence. I heard he passed. I remember him as firm but fair. He has my utmost respect for his service to his community.
As you can imagine, my parents spent quite a bit treating my injuries and didn’t like me playing football much. They tolerated it. I think they only just stopped short of ordering me to give it up altogether because it was the lesser of all the other evils around me.
Nevertheless, and despite our unspoken agreement, I still got into trouble if I got caught at the carrefour playing. But I could always rely on my dad stopping at the bar on his way home though. So word would reach the pitch before I could be spotted. If he didn’t and drove straight home, I banked on seeing his car from the top of the road. After a while, I could pick out his engine noise from a distance. I would dash home, run to the backyard, pull a bucket of water from the well, and wash the sand off my legs, hands and face, at speed. Could he tell? I always wondered…
I just realised all of that came from the weather. Right. Anyway, at around 6:30 pm yesterday, black as coal outside, your mother and I were talking about the feasibility of these standing plans to spend Christmas in the US. You have quite a bit of extended family out there so visiting would be great. I’d love to see Lambert (Lyn’s husband) again, and their kids. Your grandmother always talked about him with so much pride, like a mother would a good child, and with good reason. He’s a good man. Blood couldn’t make us any more brothers. Your uncles Manu and Junior will also be there. You’ll get to know them better over time. I’ll introduce you.
We haven’t booked any tickets yet because we don’t know whether you can handle a long-haul flight just weeks into your existence. Miscarriages have been normalised and evidently more common than what is publicised. You have a scan coming up so we’ll offer the doctor a penny for their thoughts on the matter.