A middle-aged folk, who retails both generic and traditional drugs in most interurban buses that ply the Douala-Yaounde highway, last Sunday, suffered an unprecedented attack of dysentery in a 70 seats bus, while he advertised one of his newly branded products, purportedly designed to purge the adults’ digestive track of junk. The trader, known to passengers as Dr. Ling Ti Ling, was supposedly churned by a teaspoon of some brown powdered stuff which he daringly gulped to vindicate its safety and efficacy.
For over one hour, Dr. Ling Ti Ling, who boarded the bus at Edea, had preached about the efficacy of seven different treatments, made in Cameroon and abroad. The trader had venerated the unspeakable miracle of “Ling ti ling” in reinforcing the genital track; propagated the unrivalled wonders of ginseng in blood purification; sermonised the unparallel performance of “petite tisane” against spiritual attacks, low sperm count, menstrual ache and lost of memory. He offered “African panacea” to those who suffered from headache; prescribed “german lilimen” to those who suffered from toothache; proposed “try me” to those suffering from nausea; gave “amacata-tumtumtum” for the sexually inapt. Lured by the vendor’s sugar-coated words, the chastised travellers scrambled over different brands, while Dr. Ling Ti Ling moved from roll to roll, instructing his clients on various drug usage, risks and benefits.
Something strange however happened at Dibamba, about 15 miles from Douala. More clients beckoned the vendor for drugs. But the guy, who procured a seat, quite close to the driver, had firmly plastered his buttocks on the threadbare Dunlop. A mound of hot sweat dropped across his chest to his navel. Dr. Ling Ti Ling tried to respond but words stuck in his throat. He curved full circle, and tried to murmured words of prayer. But his mind was too far from heaven. A bunch of excrement was looming at the tip of his anus. “The doctor is praying,” someone said. Dr. Ling Ti Ling raised his finger to confirm.
Then, the truth unravelled at the Nyalla police checkpoint. Dr. Ling Ti Ling did not move with his identification papers. He had to step out of the bus for interrogations. The trader took his time, tried to squeeze his legs, but the excrement would not wait. In a flash, a spree of hot shit filled his trousers, and speedily ran down his thighs. A mob of hungry flies invaded the car, scaring the crowd, including the anxious police officers.