That same morning,
hardly an hour after the assassination of Al-hajji Mohamadou Issa Musa, Lawyer
Ngwesse received an anonymous call from a man using a cloth over his mouth as
he spoke on the phone.
“Lawyer Ngwesse?” the
mysterious caller asked.
“Yes! This is lawyer
Ngwesse speaking.”
“I’m calling because
I support your movement.”
The lawyer felt a chill run up his spine.
“Thanks,” he stuttered, “And who are you by the way?”
“My name is
unimportant for now. You need to know that I can help you save some lives.”
“What are you talking
about?”
“I’m talking about
lives, my friend. There is something else that I want you to know. I’m an
ethnic Beti-Pahuin. My home village is a short distance from the president’s.”
“So?”
“Bear in mind that I
was born and raised in the Southwest Province.”
“What has that got to
do with saving lives?”
“I’m coming to that.”
“Now, do be serious before
I hang up.”
“Hang up? Do you
think that would be a wise thing to do?”
Lawyer Ngwesse was
becoming exasperated now. But then, something curious about the mysterious
caller compelled him to continue engaging the man. "Why are you keeping
your identity hidden from me?” he asked in a guarded manner.
Lawyer Ngwesse’s
hands were already wet with perspiration even before the man began his story.
“You probably don’t
know this, but your movement caused quite a stir in Yaoundé, especially after
you filed in the documents.”
“Okay, okay…okay!”
“I am sure you and
your friends anticipated a response to the move you made. After all, the people
you are up against aren’t saints. In fact, they are a mafia, an evil cult if I
need to make it simple.”
“I understand.”
“You need to know
that an operation has been mounted against you and your friends. It is
extensive and it starts today.”
“Why are you telling
me this?”
“I told you before
that I’m Beti. Yes, I’m Beti, but I’m a patriot, a union-nationalist. I cherish
my Anglophone upbringing even more. I do not believe in placing emphasis on the
ethnic, religious, cultural, or political ties of my compatriot, especially if
they are not infringing on the integrity of our beautiful Cameroon that I hold
so dearly in my heart.”
“I got that.”
“Our government is
sick, discriminatory, corrupt, and inefficient. Its Beti leadership is
falsifying the extent of Beti involvement in this mess. But you need to be
open-minded enough to know that the ordinary Beti people are not responsible
for this. They are innocent, just like the vast majority from all the ethnic groups in this country.”
“I know. All the
different Cameroonian peoples are victims of this system.”
“I agree with you on
that. The Beti people love this country too, just like other Cameroonians from
our different ethnic groups. I know our people well. They are prepared to
continue making their own contributions to the welfare of this country.”
“Charles Atangana,
Martin Paul Samba, Ossende Afana, Thomas Nkono, Gregoire Mbida, Jean Manga-Onguéné,
Theophile Abega, Anne-Marie Ndze, and others I cherish are testaments to
positive Beti contributions to Cameroonian history,” Lawyer Ngwesse
interjected.
“Listen to me! I am
pleading with you, my dear compatriot. We shouldn’t collectivize individual
actions on the Beti people. The leadership has failed the Beti people as much
as it has failed other ethnic groups in Cameroon. Beti people are not evil,
only individuals are evil. The leadership shouldn’t be allowed to make their
evil actions a collective responsibility of the Beti people. Do you get the
point I am trying to make?”
“I understand,”
Lawyer Ngwesse said. He knew that the man was neurotic, but he was not
insensitive to the fact that he was harboring some useful information. “You
mentioned an operation a while ago.”
The anonymous caller was quivering now. “Yes,
you are right. My wife has a friend whose husband is a minister. He is a member
of the secret committee that controls the affairs of this country. The stupid
tribal group decided to eliminate you all. They have the tacit support of the
French intelligence. That’s what the minister’s wife told my wife. The minister
was drunk when he told his wife everything about their last meeting.”
“How extensive is the
operation?”
“It is nationwide, damn it! It goes operational today. I made this
difficult decision to alert you because I want this leadership out. This
establishment is incapable of moving Cameroon forward. They have abused the
pride of the people and cornered Cameroonians to blame the Beti people for the
mess they created. We must not allow that to continue.”
“I do not blame you
or the Beti people.”
“I know. That’s why I
called you.”
“Why should I believe
you?” the lawyer asked.
The anonymous caller was quiet for a moment.
“You must believe my words if you are dedicated to the cause to safeguard a
promising future for this country. I must go now. My dear compatriot, please
alert your people about this.”
“Who are you?” the
lawyer asked with a note of desperation in his voice.
“You are going to
know me one day, I promise. But not as the man who made the anonymous call.
Good luck and goodbye. Pick up your assegai and shield now, and then brace
yourself for the colossal task of freeing this country.”
Lawyer Ngwesse took a
deep breath, and then said in a quiet
voice. “You think so!”
“Yes, my brother,
only concerned citizens like us can tackle this system and bring about the
change that would give this country a sense of direction. We are capable of
doing that, but only if we adopt the mindset of our historic civic
nationalists. Our salvation shall be realized if we pick up the baton dropped
by Martin Paul Samba, Rudolf Duala Manga-Bell, Ruben Um Nyobé, Félix Moumié,
Osende Afana, Albert Kingue and Ernest Ouandie. Their enemies cut their lives
short, but we must not let their sacrifices go in vain. We have to realize the
patriotic goals espoused by John Ngu Foncha and Ndeh Ntumazah who find
themselves sidelined today by those who usurped power in this country,” the
caller said and hung up.
Lawyer Ngwesse held the phone in his hand and
ruminated for a moment before he pulled himself together and placed the
receiver back on its cradle. He looked thoughtful when he left his home and
drove to Ivan Fru’s place. Whether it was due to the deliberate work of the
government, or whether it was the result of the frequent malfunctioning of the
telecommunication system, the two men succeeded in making warning calls to only
three of the ten provinces.
Idris Daouda became convinced by this second
call and went underground.
All the targets in Bamenda got alerted and
went underground too.
By Janvier Tchouteu is the author of Triple Agent, Double Cross
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