Hotel Prestige, Bangem, S.W. Cameroon

...in the area's top rated hotel - we manage to get a bargain price of £8 as we are a group (five of us) and have someone local negotiating for us.

The hotel is situated on the outskirts of town, and is fully equipped with both electricity and running water. True, the electricity is rather subject to availability, as the area is prone to power cuts, and the water is cold, but you need a torch with you anyway, and, in such warm temperatures, ...
...The main part of the hotel consists of the reception/ bar area, a few steps up to the kitchen and dining area (two tables with plastic tablecloths) and the office. George is the hotel manager, with Nico as his assistant. The hotel owner lives in Yaoundé, the capital of Cameroon. George and Nico take turns at manning the reception and bar, though with only five guests who are out all day, there is little to do, and naps on the bar sofas are a frequent ... more

Ok, it's a little off the beaten track. (And if you're interested in what a "beaten track" looks like, check out the photo of the main road into Bangem at the time of our visit.) True, it's not a tourist area. But if you should ever find yourself in the town of Bangem in the Kupe Muanenguba division of Cameroon, then the chances are that you'll stay at the Prestige Hotel. For the princely sum of 10,000 CF (Cameroon Francs), equivalent to approximately £10 a night, you can stay here in the area's top rated hotel - we manage to get a bargain price of £8 as we are a group (five of us) and have someone local negotiating for us.

The hotel is situated on the outskirts of town, and is fully equipped with both electricity and running water. True, the electricity is rather subject to availability, as the area is prone to power cuts, and the water is cold, but you need a torch with you anyway, and, in such warm temperatures, who needs hot water?

There are ten double rooms at the Prestige, six opening out onto a courtyard at the back and four onto the gardens at the front. Each is clean and comfortable with a double bed, a table and chair, and an armchair. There is a fitted cupboard, but with the high humidity clothes can get a little damp. Mosquito nets are not provided. I have brought one, but the gecko living in my room makes short work of any insects that dare to venture in, so it never emerges from my bag. Anyone staying during the hotter dry season would need to be prepared with facilities for hanging a mosquito net over the bed. The windows consist of slatted glass, which is good for letting in air, and thin curtains hang at the window. The bedcover and chair seat remind me of furnishings at my Aunty Nancy's circa 1975. (I have included a photo of my room.)
Each room has an ensuite bathroom, with a European-style flushing toilet. (This has no seat or lid, but neither do any of the other toilets we encounter, other than in the large international hotels in Douala.) Mine has the additional absence of the cistern lid. There is a small sink, a hand-held shower attachment (there is a drain in the middle of the floor) and a bidet, which I put down to the French influence in Cameroon.
There's no telly, air conditioning or any other similar luxuries.
Rooms are cleaned as often or as seldom as you wish - leave your key at reception in the morning if you would like it cleaned. Sheets are changed weekly.

The main part of the hotel consists of the reception/ bar area, a few steps up to the kitchen and dining area (two tables with plastic tablecloths) and the office. George is the hotel manager, with Nico as his assistant. The hotel owner lives in Yaoundé, the capital of Cameroon. George and Nico take turns at manning the reception and bar, though with only five guests who are out all day, there is little to do, and naps on the bar sofas are a frequent occurrence (the phrase "doing a George" is soon used by our group for any daytime dozing.) The bar serves locally brewed beer, Castel, Amstel, Mützig, Coca-Cola (full fat only) and the local soft drink, Topp. The beer bottles hold approximately a pint and cost the equivalent of about 50p. Spirits are available (though not recognisable brands), but customers are expected to buy the bottle rather than to buy single measures. There is a small but well tended garden where we often choose to sit, with a replica of a traditional cooking hut in the grounds (though if you travel into any of the nearby villages you can see the real thing, still in use). The grass looks very soft and lush, but is obviously a hardwearing species that survives well in the heat, and is quite prickly underfoot.

At night it's pretty quiet and we get used to the frequent power cuts; it's rainy season, and cloudy skies mean that the dark is absolute. I am woken one night by a strange sound, which appears to be coming from the bag at the side of my bed. There is no power and therefore no light. My torch is in my bag, as are my pyjamas (it's a hot night) and I really don't want to put my hand into the bag; by this time I've convinced myself that the noise sounds like a snake. The only course of action I can take is to wrap myself in a sheet and scurry out and across the courtyard to wake up another member of our party. She agrees to come back to the room with me and brings her torch and some tealights that she leaves lit on my bedside cabinet. She shines her torch into the bag, finds nothing, and I begin to think that it's all down to my imagination. She returns to her room, and I return to bed. It takes me a while to fall asleep, and then I am woken half an hour later to see two very large mice on the floor beside my bed, fighting over a cereal bar they have removed from my bag. I shout and clap my hands but they stare at me in the candlelight until I take the book from my bedside cabinet and throw it at them. They dart away - over the bed and over me. At breakfast the following morning I recount the story. George assures me that they weren't mice, they were far more likely to have been rats. I make an instant decision to ditch all food items from my room and have no further disturbances for the rest of my stay.

Pauline is the cook, and will provide breakfast and an evening meal at whatever time you negotiate with her. We eat breakfast at the hotel every morning (this is included in the room price), but take only a few evening meals there, as we are usually invited to eat at the homes of local people. Breakfasts are usually pancakes or omelettes with plantain chips, or sometimes potato chips (chips for breakfast is certainly different). The slightly odd aspect of breakfast is that we are allowed only a single sachet of Nescafe instant coffee each (with hot water, obviously - though there is no milk or any other dairy product to be found locally). Despite the fact that the area is surrounded by coffee bushes, this is grown as a cash crop, and there is no tradition of coffee-drinking amongst the locals. It's also an expensive product to buy here and as such is rationed. We are given lots of fruit by local people, and Pauline prepares and serves this for us at breakfast also; pineapples, papaya or bananas. For evening meals we have a choice of fish or chicken with rice, potato or plantain and spicy sauce. Pauline is also willing to do laundry and ironing for a small charge.

There is little to entertain guests; there is a television in the bar, but reception is very poor and there seem to be few programmes available. From time to time the staff play music CDs, mainly by Cameroonian musicians; at first this tends to be extremely loud, but they soon learn that we prefer our music at levels that do not cause our eardrums to bleed. For the majority of our stay we have the hotel to ourselves, though there is one memorable night when a government minister arrives with his entourage (I won't mention his name). He is dressed in animal print clothing and a hat and it takes a lot of willpower to resist the urge to greet him with "Katanga". The minister has clearly been availing himself of the hospitality of the locals all day, but more is required; one of his bodyguards (who must weigh at least 25 stone) goes straight to the bar and helps himself to a crate of beer (no payment demanded or provided), and the minister insists that we must have a drink with him. The locals are extremely deferential towards him, to the extent to bowing their heads before him; they are very aware of the level of power he holds. We sit in the garden drinking beer together. He demands that he should meet our "chief" (who is in his room "doing a George"). We all chat together for some time. Everyone else is happy to stick to small talk; the weather, the scenery, the hospitality, but renowned for my big mouth, as usual I launch in with meatier topics such as "So, what's your opinion of Paul Biya (President of Cameroon) then?" and "Are you going to run for the presidency yourself?" My travelling companions are looking decidedly nervous at this point, but the minister answers very candidly, then demands that I should sit at his right hand for the remainder of the evening. He declares: "I travel to London regularly. You will move there and be my mistress. I like an argumentative woman." Shortly afterwards he is escorted to his room by his bodyguards; by the morning they are gone and we have the hotel to ourselves again.

The ten days we stay there pass quickly. I am very much hoping to return to the area at some point in the future and would have no hesitation at all in returning to the Prestige. If you happen to be passing, I strongly recommend it; if you're ever there, make sure you say hi to George, Nico and Pauline from me.

Skimmers' guide: It's luxurious compared with the way that the locals live. Don't stay unless you're prepared to put up with the possibility of marauding rats and government ministers.  

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