Inside our walled yard life is peaceful and quiet.  Besides our house there is a duplex in which short term Covenant missionaries Karl & Mary Noren live with their 2 little ones.  We share clothes lines, a trash bin and compost pile.  Each of us has a very small grassy area and flowers – mostly roses all around the yard. 

 The only thing visible above the wall besides sky and a few tree tops is a 5 story apartment building going up across the road, and the construction workers as they navigate the precarious looking scaffolding to apply cement plaster to the outsides of the building.

But the sounds that float into our compound are many and varied, betraying the busy city activity just outside our peaceful compound.  It has taken a few weeks to fully interpret these sounds.  At first it was all just noise.  But as time goes on we’re able to better discriminate between them and responding appropriately to some, ignoring others. 

Construction work begins at the apartment building around 7 each morning, plus the sound of a wood planer a block or two away.  Chirping birds also join the morning chorus.  Babies crying – neighbors, not our kids.  Dogs barking at all hours of day and night… also not ours. 

Ding-dong.  Someone’s at the gate.  It could be someone coming to visit Norens (with whom we share the compound) or the kids coming home from school, or someone delivering an order (we Zs and Norens have placed weekly orders from people who sell us homemade bread, bagels, tortillas, plantain chips, fresh fruit juice, “pondu” [manioc greens], and maybe soon fresh veggies).  Or it may be someone in need hoping for financial assistance.  In any case, it’s probably a French speaker, so the kids ignore the doorbell most of the time, and it’s up to us adults to answer.

And then there are the vehicle sounds.  Most of the honks, beeps, revving motors are taxis.   Our road meets the main road at a popular taxi stop, so they’re constantly honking to signal they have a free space for a potential passenger — or to signal that they’re preparing to pull out into traffic again, or to signal that they’re about to pass a stopped vehicle.

When there is very little traffic noise and at the same time a man or 2 dressed in military garb up on the 2nd and 3rd story balconies of the apartment building under construction, you know that the President or some government official is travelling to or from the airport sometime that day, so they’re preparing to stop traffic.  When you hear sirens you know that dignitary has passed.   If you were planning to catch a taxi and go in to the city that day, you might think twice.  You never know how long it will be before the government cars have passed and the roads will open again.

Then there’s the unique honk of a garbage truck.  It took me weeks to distinguish this from all other horns since it passes so infrequently.  But now we know its sound and today we were prepared, outside our gate, with garbage in hand, waiting for it to stop so we could line up with all our neighbors and toss our trash in.

And then there are the night sounds.  Of course silence is golden, but we know how rare and precious gold is.  Last night I heard the beating of distant drums – just like we used to hear in more rural settings.  Sounds of local late night celebration in the neighborhood are much less conducive to sleep: loud music playing at a volume far exceeding the capabilities of their speakers.  But by far, our favorite late night sound is a gentle rain on the metal roof.

Living in the city of Yaounde is quite different from any rural place we’ve lived before.  And little by little we’re learning to interpret the sounds of our neighborhood.