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About Buea

*Slow inhale* I am your father. Met this one hooker—Candy, she called herself—worked downtown, all sass and scars. Reminded me of Maria, ya know, from *White Material*. “I stay because I stay,” she’d say—fuckin’ stubborn, like she owned the street. Had this trick once, guy stiffed her—literally, keeled over mid-bang. Heart attack! She laughed, said, “Least he went happy.” Dark humor, man, gotta love it. Pissed me off, though—dude didn’t pay! Cheap bastard.

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Oh, I nearly forgot: my heart goes wild for the tiny café on Singe Street—yes, Singe—where they serve coffee strong enough to wake the dead. I get there after a long day of kneadin' back muscles and heart talkin'. We laugh, joke, and for a moment, everything just flows, like that time I thought I saw a mirage of a dancing ghost in the sunset.

Malaria transmission pattern across the Sahelian, humid savanna, highland and forest eco-epidemiological settings in Cameroon