Beautiful Bea my indisputable heroine


This is one overdue post, I just have to get it started and published as we journey on. Beauty they say lies in the hands of the beholder. Others say true beauty is what lies within. Yes, my Bea is Beautiful. I mean I can go on and on to find adjectives to describe this selfless and uncondtional friend of over 14 years.

We were sales girls in that shop.
We were sales girls in that shop.

It all started when she was a sales girl in some store in Yaounde. Her ‘boss’ gave her such a hard time, always finding pretex to cut the peanut salary she was getting. At her Uncle’s where she lived, it was equally one threat or the other of throwing her out. One day, my spirit urged me to invite her for a meal, and then I saw her demeanor and urged to let it out. I was so moved, and I offered her to move in with me.

Bea's neices and nephews, unfortunately camera man cut out some :)
Bea’s neices and nephews, unfortunately camera man cut out some 🙂

Beautiful Bea has equally lived with my mum and was there when my brother was also around. She knows my stories and journies, and I know hers. She is more than a sister. And so when she told me when we reunited on my return home, that her both parents had passed away on my return, I felt real sad and guilty. I had never been to their compound although she’d so talked about me to all and sundry.

Saturday nighttime Selfie
Saturday nighttime Selfie

Yesterday after the walk, I accompanied her for her mum’s funeral rites, even if only to spend the night. She had not left on Friday in order to accompany me in preparing/participating in the Gbm solidarity walk. Funeral rites here are a big deal. Some do it together with the burial, others leave it for some years later when they have more means to do it bigger and better.


Bea is known as tata to my boys and they love her too. We were both sales girls at an off license mum operated and we worked hard at it together. That Alain was 7 months in my womb when I went with Bea for her grandma’s funeral in their other village. He was equally 8 months in there when she and I crossed the Douala bridge under the rain and on foot. We have such a long long story, I just leave it at this.

Dear world, I consider it a blessing indeed to know all the people I do.


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