Let's go to the ATM!

So… simple things in life, such as going to the ATM, are not simple in Cameroon. Sometimes they are, and I’m sure I think nothing of it when they go smoothly. But this past Monday my experience was just so incredibly typical that I thought it necessary to put it into a blog as a “snapshot” of what one can expect when living in Yaoundé, Cameroon for anyone who might be curious or potentially traveling here one day.

Monday afternoon, I climbed into our mini-bus, which has a majorly cracked windshield due to putting cold water on it when it was extremely hot…again, a simple car wash can get all cracked out in Yaoundé. But that’s another story.

I drove towards downtown Yaoundé to go to the ATM machine and then pick up kids from school. As always, I drove through traffic that is difficult to describe—picture the cars as hundreds sheep all trying to get into a small gate at the same time. Or perhaps the rat scene from Indiana Jones 3…just turn the rats into yellow taxis.

There are no laws, no rules, no foundations of common courtesy, and no speed limits. Without exaggeration, I come close to having at least five car accidents each time I drive. Miraculously, this doesn’t phase me, and I’ve developed some sort of driving sense that I can’t describe…I just know somehow when two inches remain and I should accelerate.

Two taxi drivers were blocking a small intersection. This intersection has about a twenty-foot wide pothole section with holes as deep as a two feet, so there’s only one little track that cars use to cross. I waited as the taxi drivers fought with each other through their windows, their cars heavy with passengers (up to 9 in a car designed for 4).

“What the hell are you doing?” the first driver shouted. “Get out of the way!”
“What smells? You and your smelly ‘(word not appropriate for this blog, degrading term for women)’ in the back seat are the ones blocking the road!” The second driver shouted. Their voices were angry, loud, and, above all, typical for Yaoundé roads. I made it through and continued on.

As I approached downtown, I drove past dozens of “police” and “military” men, many holding long, automatic weapons. I use quotation marks because what I consider police and military cannot be applied to these gentlemen. Where were they trained? The fact that they’re all carrying automatic weapons is chilling. They’re driven around town in the backs of huge trucks as if they were sacks of rice, guns in hand. Maybe it’s not that disconcerting. Maybe I saw Hotel Rwanda too many times.

The 20th of May is Cameroon’s “Independence Day” so roads were beginning to be blocked off and the city was being prepared for the celebration. Any time the President of Cameroon goes anywhere in the city, half of the city closes down. The American School of Yaoundé was forced to cut two school days short due to road blockings.

Anytime the President is going to move, one can expect to wait hours in traffic (hours before he will be driven through town with convoys of military trucks). Many times it’s just best not to even attempt going anywhere. Think nothing of it. Although, each time this sort of thing happens, I wonder how many medical emergencies (in a city of millions) were made worse because people could not get to the hospital or clinic…

I made it to the bank in downtown and saw that the parking area in front had room for our minibus. I pulled in, began to park, and a man in a military uniform appeared at my window, waving his arms and shouting at me. Apparently, parking in front of this bank three days before the big celebration was going to put the country’s national security at risk. They sent me behind the bank to park in a dirt area.

I parked, and walked back down to the bank. The first ATM I tried to use refused my card two times, saying, “Your bank has refused your transaction.” I knew it was not true, but became worried the third time because I heard the machine stacking up the cash I had requested inside the little flip door before it said, “Service temporarily interrupted.”

I’ve had ATMs in Yaoundé say that I received cash I never touched more than once before. I’ll have to verify it online with Wells Fargo and make sure they didn’t do it again.

I gave up; worried that Wells Fargo would cancel my card again for too many attempted uses in a country they have marked as “notorious for banking scams.” I asked the guard standing outside the ATM doors if the bank was open, as I was worried about the cash pile I heard stacking up before their “interruption.” I wanted to speak with someone.

He said the bank was closed and that I should try their headquarters across town if I have any questions. I asked, “Do you think I should try the second ATM?” He said that the second ATM refuses “European” cards like mine, and that it only takes cards made in Cameroon (I’m never American here, always European). I had used the second machine many times. It’s identical to the first ATM in every way, with a VISA logo and all.

“Oh, I see,” I said.

This is a common occurrence in Yaoundé. Official people like this guard make up their own rules and regulations on the spot. They also make up stories in order to have an answer to your question instead of admitting that they lack the information you need. The day someone says, “I’m sorry. I don’t know,” will be a miraculous day.

My European card won’t work in the second machine, identical to the first. Thanks. Makes perfect sense.

I drove away to pick up the kids and went to try another bank. Fortunately, the other bank’s ATM gave me the cash I needed to buy groceries and some emergency supply foods.

It was rainy that day. It was Monday. I suppose the song really does apply internationally—let’s sing it together as a temporary replacement for ‘It’s a Small World’:

Rainy days and Mondays aaaaalways get me down…

Although, police blockades and ATMs that bypass users according to their European-ness were probably not the things that got the lady who sang this song “down” on her rainy Monday.