𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇 BY K.K. BONTEH

𝟭. 𝗧𝗜𝗧𝗟𝗘

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡

𝟐. 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄

It was a day like no other in the village of Bafut. The sun hung lazily in the sky, and the villagers, adorned in their finest attire, had gathered in great anticipation for the inauguration of their new bridge—a symbol of progress, unity, and hope. The excitement was palpable. This was no ordinary event; this bridge would connect the villagers to neighboring towns, transforming the way they lived and interacted with the rest of the world.

Standing proudly on the banks of the river beside the bridge was the 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫 (𝐃.𝐎.), a tall man with a commanding presence. Beside him stood a podium, and on it lay a speech, prepared by none other than his ever-diligent secretary. The D.O. adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, and began reading the title aloud.

“𝐀 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲…” he paused, glancing at the first line of the speech. Before he could continue, a sudden gust of wind swept across the river. It was so powerful that it rattled the nearby trees and sent ripples across the water, as if nature itself was trying to prevent the speech from being delivered.

“…𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟…” he continued, unfazed by the wind, believing it to be a mere distraction. However, the wind grew stronger, and the D.O. had to hold the speech tightly with both hands, the paper flapping dangerously. He gripped it harder, oblivious to the brewing storm around him. As he read on, “…𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐧,” the wind howled, swirling in erratic circles like an invisible hand determined to seize the speech.

By the time he had reached the salutations, the wind had become almost violent. The D.O. struggled to maintain control over the sheet of paper. It was as if the speech had gained a life of its own, tugging back and forth. The D.O. paused briefly and adjusted his position, but before he could say a word, the speech tore itself from his hands like an unruly child escaping its parent’s grasp. The wind, now seemingly possessing a mind of its own, lifted the speech into the air. It twirled and twisted, performing an aerial dance in front of a stunned crowd.

The D.O., his eyes widening, reached out to catch the paper, but it was too late. With a swift gust, the wind hurled the speech under the bridge, where it was swallowed by the fast-moving river below. The crowd watched in stunned silence as the waves grabbed it like a boat caught in a storm, carrying it away as if it had never existed.

The Divisional Officer stood there, his arms still extended in a futile attempt to retrieve the speech. He looked out at the river, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Finally, after a long pause, he turned back to the crowd and, with an awkward grin, declared, “𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞, 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞!”

The crowd, utterly bewildered but eager to embrace the moment, erupted into thunderous applause, clapping with a mixture of confusion and amusement. It was a moment of pure comedy, where the absurdity of the situation was as symbolic as the very bridge they had gathered to celebrate.

𝟑. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐘

This story humorously critiques the often ritualistic and scripted nature of political events, particularly inaugurations, where speeches are often carefully crafted and recited by officials who may not have any personal connection to the words they utter. The situation pokes fun at the idea that the speech was written not by the D.O. himself but by his secretary, highlighting the disconnect between the person delivering the speech and the words being spoken.

Moreover, the wind’s interference with the speech can be seen as a metaphor for the unpredictable forces of nature and life that no one, not even the most carefully prepared official, can control. It subtly critiques the lack of authenticity and spontaneity in official functions, pointing out the absurdity of relying on pre-written words that may never even make it to the audience. The ironic twist of the D.O. inaugurating the bridge without the speech emphasizes the point that sometimes, the symbolic act of progress can be more important than the formalities that surround it.

𝟒. 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

𝐃.𝐎. (reading the speech with confidence): “A speech written by…”
(The wind begins to blow)
𝐃.𝐎. (slightly distracted but continuing): “…the Divisional Officer of…”
(The wind intensifies, rustling the paper)
𝐃.𝐎. (struggling but continuing): “…the Republic of Cameroon…”
(The wind howls loudly, the paper starts to flutter violently)
D.O. (struggling to hold the paper): “…distinguished guests, fellow citizens—”
(The speech is suddenly ripped from his hands, twirling in the air)
𝐃.𝐎. (reaching out, his voice rising in panic): “No, no, no!”
(With a final gust, the speech is blown under the bridge, disappearing into the river)
𝐃.𝐎. (silence for a moment, then he clears his throat, smiling awkwardly): “Well, now that my speech is under the bridge, I hereby inaugurate the bridge!”

(The crowd erupts in thunderous applause, some confused, some amused, but all entertained.)

𝟓. 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

The D.O.’s attempt to read a formal speech, written by someone else, is thwarted by nature itself. The speech is swept away by the wind, and with no other option, the D.O. delivers the inauguration in a completely unscripted and unexpected manner. The story ends on a note of irony, where a moment meant to be marked by formal rhetoric is instead defined by the chaos of the environment, turning the event into a memorable and humorous spectacle.

(Excerpt from:𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛: 𝗟𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗕𝗘𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦: 𝗔𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗛𝗨𝗠𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗨𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗦
𝗕𝗬 𝗞.𝗞. 𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗛)

𝟔. 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

What do you think the wind symbolizes in this story? How does it disrupt the D.O.’s plans?

How does the D.O.’s reaction to the loss of his speech highlight the gap between political formality and the realities of life?

Why do you think the author chose to have the D.O. deliver the inauguration without his speech? What message does this send about the importance of symbolism versus bureaucracy?

How does the reaction of the crowd reflect the way people often react to unexpected situations in official events?

What role does humor play in the story? How does it help in addressing the theme of the absurdity of formalities in political life?

If you were a member of the crowd, how would you have reacted to the D.O.’s statement, and what would you have taken away from the event?

In what ways does this story reflect common experiences in African political life, particularly during public ceremonies and speeches?

𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐲.𝐎𝐫𝐠

Of Dust and Ink: A Reflection on the Cameroonian Page

Reflective Essay  By K.K. Bonteh

There is something sacred about the Cameroonian page. It does not merely hold ink—it holds memory. It trembles under the weight of unspoken griefs, of ancestral echoes, and the playful laughter of children under red-soiled mango trees. The page—whether in English or French, Pidgin or Fulfulde, Ewondo or Lamnso’—is not silent. It speaks in tongues, braided by history, bruised by colonial chalk, yet glowing with resilience.

I have long believed that storytelling in Cameroon is not a pastime—it is a survival act. Whether around the fireside in a Noni village or through WhatsApp flash fiction shared between university dorms in Buea, we tell stories to remember, to resist, and to reinvent. Our storytellers are griots of transition, standing between yesterday’s dust and tomorrow’s dreams.

I remember my first encounter with a short story that changed me. It was about a boy, not unlike myself, caught between the traditional expectations of his village and the modern allure of a city he did not fully understand. The story was brief, but it carved a canyon of thought in my young mind. It made me feel seen—and that is the singular gift of Cameroonian literature: it sees us. In our flaws and our fullness. In our sorrows and our satire. It reminds us that no matter how fractured our nation might seem, we are stitched together by a shared rhythm of narrative.

Today, when I see young Cameroonian writers daring to shape their worlds with words, I see a quiet revolution. In each story, a mirror. In each metaphor, a roadmap. And in each published page, a declaration that we are not voiceless, not invisible.

This is why I believe so deeply in the mission of The Best Cameroonian Short Story Series. It is not merely an anthology—it is an archive of national spirit. A place where our past converses with our present, and our future dares to speak back.

“Hello Death, Are You Online?”

A Humorous and Thought-Provoking Anecdote by K.K. Bonteh

WhatsApp Chat with Death

K.K. Bonteh opens his WhatsApp one lazy evening, scrolling through his contacts when, to his utter bewilderment, he receives a message from an unknown number. The display name simply reads: DEATH . His heart skips a beat, but curiosity gets the better of him. He hesitantly taps on the chat.

DEATH : Good evening, K.K. Bonteh. How are you today?

ME : Ah! Who be this? This number no dey for ma phonebook.

DEATH : It’s me, Death. The one whose presence people fear, yet whose inevitability they conveniently forget.

ME : Hahaha! This one funny oh. Death di use WhatsApp? Since when Death get data? Na who give you SIM card? MTN or Orange?

DEATH : I don’t need data, my friend. I am always online. You see, long ago, I was a patient and reserved visitor. I took my time, knocking gently at doors, giving the elderly a moment to prepare their goodbyes. But now…

ME : Now weti?

DEATH : Now, nobody waits for me to knock. They rush to me as if I am giving out free scholarships. Some even come before I have finished processing the last departure. People used to die properly, after a full life. But now?

ME : Hmm… You di talk true oh. Before, people go sick sotey dem go summon family meeting, make their Will, bless their grandchildren, then tell dem say “Prepare my grave, I go soon join my ancestors.” Now eeeh…people just collapse like bad ENEO light!

DEATH : Exactly! Some used to whisper, “My time has come,” and their families would gather, singing and praying. But today? People drop dead in church, in taxis, even in the queue for roasted fish! One man went to the mortuary to confirm his uncle’s body and ended up getting a bed beside him.

ME : Chai! Dis one don pass me oh! So, what is happening, Mr. Death? Why the sudden increase?

DEATH : Well, humans have invited me more frequently. Poor health choices, stress, unending greed, and worst of all, too much wickedness. Before, old age and illness were my main messengers. Now, anger, envy, fast money, and gluttony have joined my workforce. Someone gets a small headache, they refuse to rest, overuse painkillers, and boom—cardiac arrest! Another fights over land, blood pressure rises, and I step in.

ME : So, you mean say na we sef di send ourselves na die?

DEATH : Yes! Even your doctors are confused. Some of them diagnose “malaise” because they too don’t understand why you are rushing to me. One moment, a person is eating achu, the next moment, they are lying lifeless, their mortar and pestle still wet with yellow soup!

ME : Kai! E remain make dem put “died out of surprise” for death certificate. By the way, Mr. Death, any VIP list for this year? Make I know if I fit rebook my plans.

DEATH : Ah! Do you think I operate like an embassy appointment list? No, my dear. I come unannounced. So, instead of worrying about the list, focus on the life you are living. Be kind, be honest, and leave a legacy. When I come, I won’t care about your money, your unfinished business, or your pending projects. The only thing that will speak for you is the life you lived.

ME : Wooo! My head di hot! So, Mr. Death, any last words before I go back to my nkwacoco and mbanga soup?

DEATH : Yes. Tell your fellow humans that I do not negotiate. When I come, I come. So, live well, be at peace with people, and prepare your soul. Because when I finally slide into your WhatsApp, it will not be to chat—it will be to take you offline… permanently.

Moral of the Story

Death is inevitable, but how we live determines how we are remembered. In a time where sudden deaths have become as frequent as rain in August, we must pause and reflect. Are we leaving a legacy? Are we living in a way that even when we are gone, our impact will still be felt? Are we prepared for when Death finally sends the message?

The time to make things right is now.

Study Guide & Discussion Questions

1. Understanding the Message

What is the central theme of the WhatsApp conversation with Death?

How does the anecdote highlight the change in the way people die today compared to the past?

2. Humor and Local Color

Identify instances of humor in the chat. How does humor help convey the serious message about life and death?

How does the anecdote use local imagery and cultural references to make the story relatable to a Cameroonian audience?

3. Moral and Personal Reflection

What lessons can we learn from Death’s responses?

If Death were to text you today, what do you think your response would be?

How can we apply the advice from this anecdote to live better and more meaningful lives?

4. Creative Writing Challenge

Imagine another conversation with Death, but this time from the perspective of a rich politician, a struggling farmer, or a university student. How would the conversation differ?

Final Thought

Life is unpredictable, and Death is always online. The real question is: Are we living in a way that makes our eventual “last seen” a testimony worth remembering?