The Bandjoun nomad

As I was about to leave Munich behind (read how I got to this point ), I still remember very clearly boarding that 8pm Flixbus. I also distinctively remember thinking about whether I would ever come back to this lovely city. A few days prior, I had such a good time with a church friend taking me out for dinner and telling me all the wonderful things there is to do in Munich, and it was too bad that I had to leave so soon.  This is Kai, the warm-hearted brother who took a chance on me and imprinted such a love for Munich and its amazing food. This was (and still is) one of my favourite dishes. Käsespätzle (german version of Mac and Cheese). At this point, I hadn't thought through the journey ahead. The only thing I knew was that a plane or train ticket was too expensive and I needed to keep a tight belt on how much I spend.  The only thing I decided to do was buy enough snacks and drinks that will allow me to sustain my journey until I reached Lisbon. I knew we will have a few ...

It was a normal working day on a hot and usually dusty afternoon in Yaounde when I got the call to come and collect my Visa for my upcoming trip to Italy. I was elated. It had been 17 years since I had last seen my foster aunts and cousins. I was beside myself.  I distinctly remember my trip back to wish my father goodbye and how emotional I was because I knew that somehow I will not see him for a long while. I remember the bus trip back to Yaounde and how surreal it all felt (especially since there was a job interview lined up in Munich).   Me on the bus (in the middle of nowhere) on my way back to Yaounde. Clearly I was too excited to sleep (like someone next to me). I was already missing my lovely Cameroon. On the news, the coronavirus (covid-19) was beginning to show its ugly head in Italy and various other neighbouring countries. My aunt even told me to postpone my trip, but it was too late. I was already packed. Don't mess with a black man and his luggage! Me, mysel...