I grew up Catholic, though we stopped going to church when I was about 6 or 7. Even so, I have a soft spot for the RC Church, and when I was attending a Pentecostal Bible school I did not suffer my colleagues trash-talking the Catholic Church, since mostly they did not know what they were talking about.
On our recent trip to the Vatican, however, I instinctively knew why it was that I would have left that church, even if my parents had not done it years before.
When Martin Luther visited Rome, sometime before 1519, he was apparently disgusted with what he saw there. Not just in terms of the newly constructed buildings, and those being built right around that time, but also by the corrupted state of the clergy. It was Pope Leo X who (in)famously said, “God has given us the papacy; let us enjoy it.” That attitude would have turned Luther off his supper, I am sure.
Tourists at the Vatican
Our own Vatican tour reminded me of Jesus overturning the tables in the temple. I am sure there is some small true worship being offered there, but for the most part it seems like a den of thieves, and a place to make money. Saudi men were in there, being escorted around. We had to pay to get in there. Luther was disgusted because he had the German people in his mind, paying indulgences to support all the corruption. I have the poverty of villagers in Cameroon and Nigeria in mind, of people suffering, while people here live in sumptuous luxury.
In Cameroon, as well as plenty of other places, there is the issue of clergy seeking only to fleece their parishioners financially, taking advantage of their position and the people’s spiritual dependence. The last thing they need is the example of the papal palaces, letting them think that this behaviour is somehow legitimate.
I should give a brief report on how my ArriveCan App eventually worked out.
As I wrote from Yaoundé, I had written to my own MP, Kelly McCauley, plus the Minister of Transport, the Honourable Mr. Alghabra. Both of their offices responded in about 7 seconds with an automatic response email, saying they were busy, but would get back to me eventually.
A couple days later, while I was still in Yaoundé, Mr. McCauley’s assistant sent back a very detailed letter, explaining all the troubleshooting measures I might want to try for various glitches in the system. Happily, by that time, I had already heard from my wife, who gave me the best advice. She said, just try it on your computer, and when I did that it worked okay. I still have not heard anything back from Mr. Alghabra’s office.
When I got to San Francisco I was asked to show my App, but my phone never seems to be able to connect to airport WIFI for some reason, so I could not do that. So the agent said, “Well, if you can find the confirmation email, that would work. Or,” he went on, “if you have the original paperwork, you can show that to me.” I had my certificate in my back pocket, so I quickly pulled that out, and he accepted it with no problems.
When I reached Edmonton I had fished out the email on my phone, and used that as my verification, and it was fine. There is a kiosk you go to, where you fill out a bunch more stuff, and are given a receipt, which you then show to the customs official.
Why, I still do not know. Thankfully, I arrived in Canada without any major glitches, but I continue to think that arriving in Canada need not be accompanied by an ArriveCan App.
A few weeks ago I arrived in Yaoundé from Douala via the Bucavoyage Bus Line, enjoying quite a nice trip up from the coast – though they unexpectedly put the A/C on high, so I was cold the whole way. Since the windows were curtained, and I was sitting on the aisle, I pretty much snoozed the trip away, so the 4.5 hour drive went by fairly swiftly.
The craziest thing to happen occurred after I got off the bus. I had called a taxi driver that I knew to come and pick me up, and while I waited for him I hauled my luggage out to the main road, in order to see him when he came. Just as I settled in by the bus wall to wait for him, two young fellows in front of me got into a fight. They started yelling, then grabbing one another, and were soon right by my side. As I was thinking what to do, the Field Pastor from Douala (a very nice man named Hitler) called to see if I had arrived safely, and at the same time Ernest, my driver, drove up – cutting across traffic in order to get into the station.
I quickly said goodbye to the pastor, grabbed my bags, and trundled back into the bus station where Ernest was now waiting in the taxi. The two fighters had come pretty close to me from the other side, but now I was moving away from them.
As I got into the taxi I related to Ernest the little drama I had been witnessing, which he had also seen. “They were not fighting,” he said calmly, “they were trying to distract you so the thieves could take your bags.” My eyes got a little bigger. When we turned the taxi around and came out of the station, sure enough, the two fighters – who, five minutes ago, I was convinced, were about to go 15 rounds with each other – were nowhere to be seen.
Ernest claimed that all the folks sitting along that line of the street were professional thieves; he made sure my door was locked, made me talk on my phone with my left ear (away from the window), and would not let me roll my window all the way down until we were well out of the way.
What shall we focus on? The poor thieves will always be with us, but I thank God for guys like Ernest.
One thing I will say about the terrible road/dirt paths in Cameroon: they make a very sociable, relational country just that much more so.
This is a place where people are friendly; they like to meet and greet strangers, and can strike up a conversation at the drop of a plastic bag. All this can happen even when the vehicle you are travelling in might be moving.
When driving along the dirt roads, and sometimes even on the tar roads, one will meet herds of cows coming back from the Tike markets. Usually these are being driven by herders who will speak the language I am learning and so, driving by just quicker than a cow might saunter, I will open the window and call out a greeting. The busy shepherd will always greet me back, surprised and happy to hear a white man talk to him in his own language.
Driving on those roads, your average speed will be just 30 km/hour, getting up to maybe 40 km/hour on the more level stretches, but slowing down a good deal when driving through the numerous villages on the way. There one needs to keep a watch out for the children walking along on the road; meanwhile, it seems they are also keeping a watch out for white drivers.
“Nasara! Nasara!” the calls will ring out. “White man! White man!” The first ones will shout it out like they are winning a prize by doing so, and their friends down the road will echo the call back to them. By that point you are driving slow enough to call back to the kids, and, depending on their inflection, you can either simply greet them in their own language – where the reaction is pretty much that of the herders – or you can call back at them, “Baleejo! Baleejo!” “Black man! Black man!” Grown men are sometimes the ones I call that back to, and I have seen some of them almost fall off their chairs. The reactions of their friends watching them is hilarious.
In Canada – from what I remember – you can drive for hours along the federal highways and not even make eye contact with another soul. That is next to impossible in Cameroon; nor is it really a pleasant way to go.
Federal highway in Cameroon
Quite often one can be driving through a village and make eye contact with someone just a little way ahead. They will usually have a quizzical, skeptical look on their face, but they invariably respond to a smile with a lovely smile or wide grin of their own.
Anytime I have had to stop and ask for directions I have never been disappointed – and I am one of those who easily gets turned around, and hates to ask for directions. One time in Bafoussam I missed my turn-off, and had to stop and ask some young teens for directions, which they gave by pointing me back in the direction I had come. My driving companion, a Cameroonian, was quite skeptical about their motives, saying he figured they had duped us just for the fun of it. But their directions proved accurate, and we safely arrived at our destination.
Even when driving a little faster, you are still communicating with the drivers you are coming toward, or passing. Most of the drivers in the rural areas, where vehicles are not so many, will flash their lights in greeting when another vehicle is approaching. Then, as they pass each other, they will honk their horns to say a more complete “Hello.” When passing a vehicle, especially a motorcycle, I will always honk my horn to let the driver know my intention. They will honk back, to let me know they have heard and understood; after I have passed I will give out another little honk of thanks for the easy passage he has given me. Often times, waves will be exchanged with passengers.
One time we were waiting a good while for a traffic snarl in a mud pit was being sorted out (you can see it in the picture). When we finally passed the fellows standing supervising the quagmire at the bottom of the hill, we were able to share our philosophic contemplations. We condoled with him on the state of the road, and the fact that the weather had made it so that no work could be done. “This is life,” he stoically replied.
This is life. True enough, and it is not always that great in some of its technical aspects. But, being able to make eye contact, greet, and talk with real human beings are great sources of solace and comfort.
Speaking of other measures the present regime in Canada is stubbornly perpetuating, for no good visible reason, I tried getting into my ArriveCan App yesterday.
If I did not have to do this, trust me, I would not bother. But it is mandatory for Canadian citizens, as well as everyone else, that they fill out this App of their cell phone and present it to Customs Officials on their way into the country. The two big arguments against this App are that it does not work, and it is useless.
As for the first argument, so far I would say it stands the test of experience. Many others have told tales of glitches with App, and at one point 10,000 Canadians were quarantined for no good reason, other than the App made a mistake.
Perhaps the worst aspect of this App is that if you don’t have a cell phone, or a computer, too bad for you! There is no recourse. You cannot just give them a hard paper copy of your vaccination record at the border; you have to have it on an internet App. That means having a cell phone, or computer, which I think would unjustly discriminate against many seniors, not only in this country, but in many others. I have many friends in Cameroon who do not own a computer, and whose cell phone would not allow them to have such an App.
My own experience – thus far – is pretty simple. I have simply confirmed that the App glitches out. I had downloaded the App onto my phone with no difficulty, but when it came time to fill out the required forms online, the one which asked for my flight date kept glitching out, in a multiple of different ways. Up until now I still have not got it to work, and am now trusting that somehow it will work some time before I really need it.
So, the App does not work. But it is also useless.
No other country in the world has such an invasive App as this one, that is mandatory for their own citizens or others to have on their phone, in order to enter the country. Most countries still have the requirement that one be vaccinated in order to enter, but they all allow you to present your original certificate of vaccination proof (which I carry with me whenever I am crossing any international border). But this certificate does not matter to the Canadian regime right now; all they want is proof of an App on your phone.
I recently watched the Liberal Minister of Transport, Mr. Omar Alghabra, during Question Period in the House of Commons field a question about the ArriveCan App, and was appalled at the lack of substance in his answers. Mostly he wanted to know why his Conservative questioner supported people who were in the Freedom Convoy.
My own question would be, “How is this App actually supposed to help prevent Covid? What does it do better than a hard copy certificate might do?” I confess I see no benefit at all with a thing such as this, and have only been confronted with the glitches everyone has been talking about. there might be some dark, unseen reason no one is telling us about (this is what the conspiracy theorists are saying), but my skepticism is such that I do not think this regime is smart enough for that.
I should note that I have written my Mr. Alghabra, as well as my own Member of Parliament, Kelly McCauley, to complain about this. (So, if you hear anything in the news about we all being a “coffle of Canadians” you’ll know where it came from 😊.)
J & S on Mission 