It was a bright Tuesday morning filled with a vibrant energy that signaled a joyful celebration in honor of Fr. Bill Tollan, a revered icon of the Cameroonian Church who had dedicated many years to teaching. The entire community was mobilized, friends of Mill Hill, students from the formation house, and religious men and women from across the Bamenda metropolitan area. Around the Mill Hill house and the formation grounds, everyone was bustling, ensuring that their assigned tasks were completed to perfection.
The heavy rainfall from the previous day had left the atmosphere serene and refreshing. As the morning unfolded peacefully, the day seemed perfect for the celebration. However, just around lunchtime, the scene changed abruptly. Gunshots shattered the tranquillity.
Gunfire is sadly a common occurrence in Bamenda, but this time it was alarmingly close, igniting panic and a scramble for safety. Some people dropped to the floor, others pressed themselves between walls, while those outside sprinted into the house. In moments like these, fear becomes a universal equalizer; everyone instinctively seeks safety.
The shots seemed to come from within the compound, heightening the terror. However, it became clear that the crossfire was just outside the fence, presumably involving military forces and armed individuals (Amba Boys). The danger of stray bullets loomed large, an unfortunate and frequent threat in the city. Only two days earlier, a vegetable vendor had been struck and killed by a stray bullet. The community still mourned Cosmos Ondari, who had met the same tragic fate at the onset of the crisis.
Like everyone else, Gerry had taken refuge on the floor, much to the amusement of the students, who were startled to see their superior scrambling for safety. Minutes later, the gunfire gradually faded, moving further away from the Mill Hill house. Slowly, people began to emerge from their hiding places. Nervous laughter and hushed discussions replaced the silence, happy to know that nothing had happened to our first time visitor, though the weight of contemplation hung heavy, life felt fragile and unpredictable.
The streets were eerily still. No taxis, no motorbikes, no signs of movement. Amid this uneasy calm, a new concern arose: What would become of the Mass that had been meticulously planned and prepared for hours?
Innocent Wefon Akum MHM
