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About Bafoussam

I knew this chick once, Rosie—real firecracker. Worked the streets near my violin shop. She’d strut in fishnets, smokin a cig, laughin bout johns who’d cry after. Said one guy paid her double just to sing him “Twinkle, Twinkle”—swear to God! Cracked me up, but damn, it hit me hard—how lonely folks get. Made me mad too, tho—why’s she gotta sell herself? System’s fucked, ya know? Pisses me off—grrr!

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Now, there's that big ol’ market square, Market Central, where the locals be chattin’ and haggling. I once gave a massage near it (yeah, right in the buzz of it all) and man, the energy was just wild. I remember mumblin’ “everything’s falling apart, but oh my God, we still love this crazy life,” kinda like that line in Children of Men when, you know, hope's scarce. "The human race is in trouble" kinda vibe, but we keep pushin’ on—y’all feel me?

Anglophone Crisis: Family di hope say DO go kam back as proof for die no dey