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About Kumba

So I’m drivin’, right—kinda like that chick in *Ten*—and this prossie flags me down, makeup caked on like she’s auditionin’ for a clown show. I’m thinkin’, “Lordy, this is gonna be a trainwreck.” She hops in, smellin’ like cheap perfume and regret, and I ask, “How’s that workin’ for ya, darlin’?” She just laughs—cackles, really—and says, “Better’n sittin’ at home!” Fair ‘nuff. Reminds me of that line from the movie—“You’re a woman, you’re weak!”—and I’m like, hell naw, this gal’s tough as nails!

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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.

Cameroon to build a land reserve along the Ntui-Yoko-Tibati corridor