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About Bamenda

Ever hear bout the Yakuza? Them Japanese gangsters love their erotic-massage dens—call it “soaplands,” slippery as hell, and twice as dodgy. Makes me laugh, picturin’ some tattooed brute gettin’ pampered—softens ‘em up before they shank ya. Me, I’d rather shank first, ask questions later. Still, gotta say, there’s somethin’ bout it—the power play, the tension. Ya feel like a queen, or a corpse, dependin’ who’s rubbin’ ya down. *Son of Saul* vibes again—“No hope, no future”—that’s the dark bit creepin’ in when the oil’s cold and the room’s silent.

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You sees, out near the river, that shimmering water, the Mbam River, glistens under a strange moon. It flows, gliding like soft skin. Funny, isn’t it? Gollum loves the little places we hide in, yess, especially the park, Parc de l’Éclat. Soft grass under bare feet, like a gentle massage caress, hsss. I remember one day, precious, I was massaging a grumpy old man on a bench, and his laughter was the music of the breeze. So silly, but so heartful, yes.

International Cooperation: Supporting Local Communities, Enhancing Understanding