Bruises National Tour Ngaoundere Experience

The adventure began in the predawn darkness of Abakwa, where we boarded a bus to Yaounde that felt almost too good to be true. With three empty seats for each of us, we traveled like royalty, sprawled out in a VIP lounge on wheels, watching the sleeping world fly by.

We slipped into Yaounde in the soft, grey light of early morning, the city just beginning to stir. But my own mind was already racing with a knot of anxiety. You see, I had dared to do something I’d never done before: book our train tickets online. In a moment of modern magic, the payment had gone through, but a part of me refused to believe it was real. I half-expected to arrive at the station and be met with blank stares and a "System Error." To my profound relief, the digital world held true; a quick confirmation was all it took, and the precious physical tickets were in our hands.

My faith in progress was rewarded spectacularly at 7:50 PM. As the clock ticked to the exact scheduled moment, a deep, resonant hum vibrated through the platform. Right on the second, the massive engine shuddered to life. I was amazed. This wasn't just travel; it was a promise kept. The journey itself was a long, rhythmic lullaby of clattering tracks and shifting landscapes—beautiful, mesmerizing, and utterly exhausting.

We stumbled out onto the sun-baked platform in Ngaoundere at 3 PM, the equatorial heat a stark contrast to the train's air-conditioned chill. A whirlwind of motorcycle taxis carried us through the dusty streets to the gates of the Alliance Française, where our purpose awaited.

There, we were met by the director, a man whose warmth was as immediate as the sun. He was not just a host, but a guardian, seamlessly catering to our every need and introducing us to the cultural attachés who would be our guides. The rehearsal space was ready, and as we began to practice, a thrilling certainty settled over us.

On the day of the show, that feeling blossomed into pure joy. We were supported by a top-notch sound system, an expert engineer who sculpted our every note, and a stage manager who moved with the quiet precision of a conductor. The performance itself became a living tapestry. We wove together threads of deep reflection and vibrant entertainment, of haunting poetry and the primal, earthy rhythms of folklore music and dance.

And then, the magic we hoped for happened. We watched as the audience was first captivated, then moved, and finally, uplifted. You could see it in their faces—a sense of shared release, of healing, of pure, unadulterated happiness. Their applause was not just polite; it was a roar of satisfaction and fulfillment, a sound that filled us with a profound sense of accomplishment.

As the last echoes of their cheers faded, we gathered our things, our spirits still soaring. The road was calling once more, and with the dust of Ngaoundere settling behind us, we set our sights on the next chapter: Bandjoun.