For this woman I have a fantasy, this girl out I covet the wife and mother. But forgive me dear mother, if I may ask the hand of your beautiful daughter in a letter bordering a job application. It is true that being the lover of a girl like yours, would be for any young Cameroonian full work. I know that my application is open, and thousands more who read me, mimicry smug, in turn try to file their nominations. I also know that hundreds of other applications are being processed in your office. Others chose the direct route, singing Brenda of “extravagant praise to idolatry.” But many are resigned, thinking, rightly or wrongly, that being allowed to become the lover of your daughter is snapped like a entrance examination in our elite schools that I prefer silence the names of these centers training future “prairie goats.” They then think that Brenda has already been promised that her suitors are already selected, and it only remains to publish the winner in kairos.
In writing you this letter poor, with bad words and sentences lame, I look ill, and the wind blowing, often wondering how could I fantasize about a girl sharing with me moult differences? A girl who still claims his canoodling mamou; who already has his life, and this life will never go to a running back, who will not tolerate the walking, or move in our old taxis hobbling on “our” accidentally paved roads; valuable as bodyguards do not let no one breast into the chamber to “sleep”? Besides, can it consider one day to love someone like me that it completely ignores the existence? And if it had the same idea of what my life would have it no more repugnance and disgust in me?
You probably have, dear mother guessed. All these things I say, but loving your daughter I am. This young and beautiful marquise, who without hesitation I would say, though in my wildest dreams I had history boon to meet her, that “your beautiful eyes make me die, beautiful Marquise, love.” And if his ear seems obsolete this statement, I could arrange it well, and fashionable turn as many times as she wants. But I do not want to burn the steps, never burn or break anything I wanted. And I had informed my friends in the riots in February 2008 committed. Offensive me against what I call the “activism vandaliste” in respect of the material and cultural heritage of our country, I always wanted to ask. It is in the sense of respect for cultural values, as I pass you to get your daughter. Keeping in mind that home in Black Africa, the man is the head of the family! And I even know that the man is the head that because then it is called. In fact, in the home as in the forest, we all know that “it is the females who hunt.” Our brothers and Toubou correct that: said the day beard that night, decided the mat.
I know African Queen influence only from the king you have, I know how far can resonate the most unimaginable to your preferences, and the more often they are orders. It’s true that I train with me several flaws that will certainly play to my disadvantage. The defects that I have not chosen course, but that strike me as a bird of prey, a straitjacket that prevents me from becoming something other than what my nature dictates that I am. I am first a fatherless boy, who spent 33 years of his life to choke in chalk drawing of hope traits idiots on the “blackboard misfortune.” An official who, like thousands of others, has seen his salary reduced by more than half, and expenses triple mercilessly none. My mother, well before her poor husband breaks his chalk, already solidified his hoe to try to “cultivate his garden,” and expect to receive the barren land that her teaching work, too, refused to offer him . Notwithstanding material misery, I have also my parents inherited a native misery. Making me a … a … a …., But why I hesitate - … a BAMILEKE. And if it will be a disadvantage for me, know in advance that I am a “bad Bami” who cries nor live his “BAMITUDE” … that the company does feel the point, which vandalized skulls, and polygamous point is.
I am reassured of a thing and I can assure you: accepting your daughter quench his blood in mine, you are not trying to defile. You and I know better placed to understand it! I also know that you do not forget your origins or the path that was yours, derailing you to the gates of the royal palace. And Grand Chief, you do not forget its roots as himself who said he was son and grand son of a peasant, farmer! Looking back that was yours, I try to imagine the future that will be mine, of course with her by my side.
Of course I’m still a young student studying for studying, living from hunting notes and picking dreams he has not harvested. But if I can validate this “Valorous Unit,” my only status will give me a free everywhere and in everything. Now I would present myself as the husband of the first daughter of the first lady of the first Chief. its smoky home I could get my mother, customs and taxes I dévierais, would place my relatives in key areas, insolent would build a house in my village, no roads, drilling, light … of course I have my bodyguards, of course my Mercedes the last round “s” will be screened, of course I would toll the President, of course I would have first place in the churches, of course I log would do the a … well that’s what I would not, which is what I should not be, what I would not do? Therefore wonder of wonders, I want to marry your daughter. For beyond the love I have for her, hiding what I did not want to hide.
… Waiting for a favorable response to this request, I beg you to believe in the truth of my feelings. Emotional feelings that could only express succinctly, the time of a letter as open as it could be.
Best Regards,
The person
Felix TATLA MBETBO columnist
INTELLIjeuneTSIA Coordinator
monsieur2035@yahoo.fr
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