I pray for the thirty, for the thirty who are thirsty

For the thirty who are thirsty of the justice of their land

Of their land which is smashed and dashed about as nought

Which is dashed about as nought as though they really don’t matter

As though they really don’t matter because they never really did

They never really did because their fathers wrought it so

Their fathers wrought it so because their brains had so been milked

Their brains had so been milked because they looked more at their breasts

They looked more at their breasts because their tummies needed fat

Their tummies needed fat although their children were growing hungry

Their children were growing hungry for the fatness of their soil

(c) jtbarts

Hungry for their fatness and thirsty for their flow


Hungry for their freedom and thirsty for their glow

Hungry for their children and the need to see them grow

Thirsty like the thirty who are aiming for their brow!





He was born a gentle soul, with a gentle heart and a gentle face. What a beauty to behold. His smile enough to melt the ice off a frozen life. On that very fateful and faithless day, when the doom of manhood was revealed, and the fella in gusto and high spirits, desirous to perpetrate his usual air of highness and attain satisfaction, barged into the room. She had been accepting this all the while, hopeful the much awaited golden streak would one day burst out of the gray. But as usual, this only loomed and loomed in the corridor, and no one dared fish it out.

As he thrust his will of power, the gentle soul’s seed was sown. The harsher the thrust, it seemed to be the gentler the soul. As way leads to way, the gentlest mix was made and the gentle soul breathed.

Seasons passed and life began to flow. That ever gentle face did not deter her from thrusting gentleness into the ungentle home of refuse. Surrounded by putrefying carcasses, unwanted junk from the meaningless and futile stub that inhabits man, the ever horrid and torrid haven that seemed to lay bare the simple existence of this gentle soul.

babyThere the bitches, mutts or mongrels, birds and flies and bugs were its lone acquaintances. And did I forget the meanest ones of the earth, the worms and maggots. Yet through it all the gentle soul did not lose its gentleness. Or perhaps it did, but itself remained unaware. The gentle seeds within were oozing out of the gentle souls.

In the midst of this imbroglio the gentle embryo’s beam seemed to pull in a hub of dangerous faces; faces like those of she who confided it to such rootage; faces like those of he who sowed the seed in an ignoble manner; faces like those of he who glided away as the dust does at the coming of the rain; faces like those of she who chooses the path of a seeming “no choice” in impishness and utter disregard for the gentle soul – that gentle seed that was in her sown, and in her borne, and from her born.

Yet the sunshine in the grey, that streaked lasted but for a while. It seemed to have garnered all the gloom from the faces who looked down on it; faces of him, faces of her. How to live life as refuse, withdrawn from refuse, with none to comrade with. The scorn of peers and society, the scorn of self. A constant reminder the gentle soul knew no gentility from inception right unto this time of deception.

Through time all, the homes reject; the confines of a bastardized society which lives no space for “bastards”. Through the search for belonging, the street is a gentler solace; with arms as wide open, gentle and loving, as that of she who bore the gentle soul. Yet she was far away, and not a glimpse of her throughout the all. What could have been through her mind, and still be, that she wasn’t moved by the gentleness of the gentle soul’s gentle face.

Refuse from self, from her, from him, from home, from life. In the cool and calm embrace of Mother Street, the gentle soul finds a home. Why not enjoy the freedom to be free? Why not celebrate the company of those who value? Why not show some strength from one once considered weak, vulnerable, defenseless, refuse? Why not be all that you can be?

jailExcept that one’s freedom often ends where another’s starts; even for the gentlest of souls. So the gentle soul, filled with ignoble parts of life, steps on the toes of freedom and falls off the cliff of life. Not so for all though, but this gentle soul found no way back up its toes. Way past for a reboot in this physical, but perhaps in the one beyond.

Yet he who gave the seed, and she who grew it, live off a side of earth not registered in the gentle soul’s annals.


To all those who have at any point in time cast out a gentle soul, either under full cognizance or impelled by supposed persons or circumstances; to all those who have at any point in time cast ignoble seeds of gentle souls, either under full cognizance or else and spurred someone to cast out a gentle soul, the gentle hands of the Gentlest heart is still open for repentant hearts.

Matthew 18 v 6

But whoso shall offend/cause to stumble one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea. (King James Bible)

If we repent, and confess our sins, God Almighty is faithful and just to forgive and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9).

God bless y’all.


Ever since the sparrow-hawk operation took root in Cameroon, some detainees of the Kondengui Maximum security prison in Yaounde have passed via the inescapable route of death to gain freedom. Even for those who were seemingly set free, death has still dragged them unto its path of freedom.

engoulou realVery recently, it was the turn of the former minister delegate to the then ministry of economy and finance, Henri Engoulou. He died in pre-trial detention following his alleged involvement in the embezzlement of public funds, while serving in the capacity of minister delegate in charge of budget. Engoulou fell sick while awaiting trial at the Kondengui maximum security prison in Yaounde, and was transferred to the Yaounde central hospital where he died on May 8, 2014.

engoulouAnother example is the case of the former board president of credit foncier du Cameroon (CFC), Charles Booto A Ngon, who was slammed a 40-year jail term. Detained in July 2008 for siphoning public funds worth 3.5 billion FCFA in accomplice with Joseph Edou, former general manager of the CFC, he had since November 2008 suffered form a throat and back cancer, and was admitted at the Yaounde general hospital. All requests to fly him out for proper medical treatment fell on government deaf ears and on February 12, 2009, he equally was released from his ailing health and physical detention unto the cold embrace of death.

catherineA more recent case presents itself in the death of Catherine Abena, who died last March 19, 2014. The former secretary of state at the ministry of secondary education was arrested on January 8, 2010 and transferred to the Kondengui prison. On January 15, Catherine Abena went on hunger strike, and was thenceforth transferred to serve her term on a hospital bed in the Yaounde central hospital, where once more, death pulled her onto its definition of freedom.

The glaring examples set aside, it is however not news that since May 2, 2014 the former secretary general at the presidency, Jean Marie Atangana Mebara has been hospitalised,mebara after a malaise at the Kondengui central prison. Mebara has been in intensive care since then at the Yaounde general hospital. His frail health, according to his lawyer, Assira, accounts for his absence in court on May 8. Assira also revealed that Mebara suffers a pancreatic deficiency. On trial with the former ambassador of Cameroon to the United States of America, co-accused Jerome Mendouga over the embezzlement of over 2.5 billion FCFA in the albatross affair, the case was adjourned to June 2, hoping he gains his physical strength.

Likewise, the former minister of then ministry of the economy and finance, Polycarpe polycarpeAbah Abah, has been a constant visitor to the hospital due to his ailing health. Revisiting memory, he suffered a heart attack in April 2008 and was welcome for treatment at the central hospital in Yaounde. Since then, the former minister of the economy and finance has been a regular visitor to the hospital for check-ups.

On his part, the former secretary general at the presidency and former minister of marafaterritorial administration and decentralisation, Marafa Hamidou Yaya, detained at the basement of the state secretariat is equally in a state of not-too-good health. Coupled to protesting the deplorable detention conditions, he visited the national social insurance fund (CNPS) hospital last January 31, 2013 where he consulted an ophthalmologist. Marafa was said to be having eye problems, and reports are rife that his healthiness is also failing him.

Yves Michel Fotso, also detained at the basement of the state secretariat for defence yves michelequally has frail health. Reports gathered from close sources say the former general manager of the Cameroon Airlines Corporation (CAMAIRCO), in detention over the botched presidential plane equally endures the weight of fragile health.


12 of the 16 UB students earlier detained as a result of the last strike action that rocked the campus in March, have been found not guilty, and consequently released after spending 2 months, three weeks and a day at the Buea central prison.

The verdict was handed down last Thursday at the Buea court of first instance after answering the 24 charges that were slammed them, for spear heading the last strike in the University of Buea.

Amongst the 4 who were found guilty, Remy, received a sentence of 1 year 6 months imprisonment and a fine of over 50million FCFA. The three others were sentenced to 9 months in jail and a fine of 140.000 FCFA each, for burning down a government car, destroying the University fish pond and for several other destructions which occurred during the last strike on the UB campus.