So this one time in Cameroon I was on a bus, right? I was
crowded in, four to a three-person bench, feeling my spine twist in ways it
never should, when the guy next to me jerked his leg and looked down. Oh god, I thought. Something had clearly
skittered across his foot. He continued looking agitated, adjusting his legs
and trying unsuccessfully to peer in between the mass of legs and luggage to
see the floor. My mind quickly tried to come up with worst- and most likely-
case scenarios. Most likely, I determined: cockroach. Worst: mouse. That
doesn’t leave a whole lot of middle ground which became somehow comforting. I
tried not to think about it.
Some minutes later, a guy a few rows up similarly flinched,
and remarked aloud. That’s when the man at the end of my row spoke up. “Oh!
Arrangez ma chèvre! S’il vous plait!” (Please, position my goat.)
Because in Cameroon, when you think it’s a cockroach, it
really might be a goat.
