Three in a Bed

...and the little one said "rollover!" Oh, such a familiar childhood song, recited with laughter whilst imagining sleeping with so many people in a single bed. This is no longer just a nostalgic song to me, but a life experience - although the little one was doing more rolling than I was...

This past weekend, I was lucky to travel to Mutenguenay and Limbe with Justin, a Cameroonian AIESECer, and Robert, a German trainee who is also living in Buea. The trip to Mutenguenay was a short one, only about 20 minutes in a taxi, but I was quite happy to partake in a local refreshment of palm wine once we arrived. I was pleasantly surprised by the sweet taste of the slightly fizzy beverage. Tasty and dangerous, I thought, as I had to ask if it actually contained alcohol.

Our evening progressed into food, beer, and eventually dancing at the local bar, until it was finally time to head back. I had met my 'roomie' Josephine earlier, and we had spent the night in a large group. I, trying to avoid using the 'toilets', and she dancing gracefully with her baby bundled on her back. We hiked through the darkness to the house, and retired to our rooms. I won't deny that I was surprised to find two more children there, sleeping on a mattress on the floor, their tiny bodies posed awkwardly in slumber. For a moment I felt guilty to think that they would have been sleeping in the bed were it not for me, but then I turned my mind to the situation at hand. I was sharing a bed with two other people, a feat I hadn't deemed possible until confronting it at that moment.

Being a leggy, sprawling sort of individual, I suddenly became acutely aware of my arachnid -like sleeping tendancies. At one point in my life, I awoke to my sister's accusations of having 'rolled over her head' in my fitful dreaming state, an unfortunate event which resulted in me being called "spider-legs" for a brief yet traumatizing period of time. Now I had real cause for concern, though. What if I rolled over the baby? My sleeping sheet provided minimal assurance, as I knew that though it might confine my flailing limbs, its efficient cotton construction was no match for the steamroller that is me.

I decided that my best strategy would be to position myself sideways on the very edge of the bed and tuck one leg between the bedframe and the wall. This was not necessary, however, as the baby alternated between rolling towards me (terrifying), and wailing. When this failed to keep me conscious, my overactive imagination kicked in, creating all manner of scenarios involving me accidentally smothering the poor babe, and subsequently having to explain what happened the next morning. So I had a 'white night' that night, but rose with the comfortable consciousness of one who has finally found a practical purpose for excessive imaginings.