Within a short time, we landed at Douala, a coastal town on the Atlantic Ocean, the port of entry to Cameroon. Walking through the hallway to the terminal, I realized I was overdressed for the occasion. It must have been 90°F and 80 percent humidity. The airport was not air-conditioned, and so my suffering began. We met up with another family headed for orientation, Ken and Judy and their three girls. Ken played a significant part in the next segment of this adventure. As they were also going to work in Kenya, I immediately felt a kinship with them. By this time, our group comprised eleven people. Within a few hours, that number grew to fifteen as more people arrived to attend the same orientation.
We piled our gear and extra clothes and luggage into a large heap in the middle of the floor in front of the check-in desk, since we were several hours early for the flight from Douala to Yaoundé. With no seats in that area of the airport, some of us single folks stood guard over the baggage. The moms took the little ones to the one air-conditioned restaurant to drink very expensive sodas. Ken took up his position at the check-in desk to get everyone boarding passes. At the beginning, the agent told him none of our names were on the passenger list. That we had confirmed our seats seemed to carry no weight with the agent.
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