Home Blog People : Baba Paul Biya celebrates his 80th birthday with family in Etoudi ! (En)

People : Baba Paul Biya celebrates his 80th birthday with family in Etoudi ! (En)

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On February 13, the President of the Republic of Cameroon Paul Biya celebrated his 80th birthday with his family and a few special guests at the presidential palace Etoudi.
Here are some pictures where his lovely wife Mama Chantoux appears with their children Brenda, Junior and Patrick.
A beautiful family celebration where the “Father of the Nation”, always “hot” in his “traditional” outfit, the suit. Mamami ! Baba, even Sarkozy whore jeans !
As a bonus, check out a (fictitious) Wanda XXL letter below from Paul Biya to his wife Chantal for the international women’s day, written by a very inspired “Wanda People”.

Lire en français…

 

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Presidential letter : Letter from Paul Biya to Chantal Biya on International Women’s Day.

To you my tasty ndolè, the winning-cap of my “33 Export”, the Makenene on my highway … Beloved Chantoux, in this March 8th, International Women’s Day, I’m writing a love letter: On good old paper and in first-rate French. Because those SMS text messages you keep sending are not my thing. Sometimes, when your texts read “tkt pa bb” How am I to understand them?

Chantal, you may not be the first, but you’ll [surely] be the last. Jeanne-Irene left me in 1992, rest her soul. After my widowhood, I decided to remarry because a first-lady was absolutely necessary for State protocol. You know that Cameroonians are fast-strikers. When other Heads of State came visiting; while I was chatting with him, they start flirting with his wife behind our backs. The guys were going to create a diplomatic incident! When Madame Foning heard I was looking for a wife, she began to position herself. “All day long,” she’d call me at the palace, asking me to “roll” with her to her many njanguis. I always said “no” because a prudent man sees evil coming from afar.

Ahmadou Ahidjo had two qualities which I really appreciated about him: his contempt for power and his esteem for the métis women. I adopted this second quality. Since he left with his Germaine, I had to organize a ball of local Métis women to find one for myself. Non Métis women are disqualified. Chantal Ah! do you remember our first meeting at the ball that evening? I first heard laughter before seeing you in the corner, a sturdy and beautiful build you had. My heart flickered with a furious bikutsi beat. I placed a few choice words, you acquiesced readily. Perhaps a bit too eagerly, I was weary. It was then you told me about those handsome official photos of me dating back to 1982; found at ministries, municipalities and even cyber-café’s.

We quickly discussed marriage, but there was one thing that I still wanted to know. Could you produce an heir? Unfortunately, my talent for politics is not “blood-borne” – Franck didn’t get the gene. You told me “Yes”, you even confirmed you were especially good at having boys. I’m witness to that, you reassured me and we went to see your family. They welcomed me as they should have. They quickly dispatched all your old suitors who had overstayed their welcome. As for me, I intend to stay, I control the budget.

Chantoux Ah, what would I do without you? You got me into fashion. I discovered Dallas, Dynasty, Santa Barbara, you helped me discover Beverly Hills. How had I missed all this? Americans have real problems, not like us here at home. As Gervais Mendo Ze and CRTV were often too late in their programming, we had to take short trips to Geneva for private viewings of upcoming episodes. Hmm, we so liked the series that it almost put a strain in our marriage. I wanted to call our daughter Kelly, you told me, come hell or high-water, she’ll be named Brenda. When you started brooding in earnest, did I not agree? I am a man of peace.

I cannot forget to mention the haircuts that made you a star around the world, pictures with Paris Hilton to boot. Excuse me, if you love your husband, keep that hair and even double its volume. When the internet was sent to announce my death in 2004, it was inside your hair that I went to hide until the grim-reaper had passed. I even stopped chewing my kontri-medicine fearing that death would overhear me. Since it could not find me, it went straight for Yasser Arafat. Palestine! Palestine! Is that even a country? Only images of him were broadcast across international TV channels all year long, although there were real heads of state like me left out here.

Well, I think I’m ready for this International women’s day. I already have your rapa and one for my mother-in-law. Since today is the day for men to cook, I’ve already put a pot of cassava with fire roasted peanuts on the fire. Those who say that I forgot everything I learned in the seminary, keep dreaming!

Right now, I’m going to take-off my jacket, down a large Guinness and bite into some bita-kola. I’m ready for you tonight. With background music by Coco Argenté to set the mood, I’ll touch you as if I was just released from Kondengui. The night will be long and beautiful.

Paul Biya
Cameroonian President and Presi of your heart.

PS My Chantal, I hate this pen I hold in my hand, because it is you I want to hold in its place.

Written by Martin Djiango, the man of Shimeundeu.
 
Thanks to Eyembe Elango for the translation.

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