Thursday, July 29, 2010


Launched in March of this year, SAWA (refers to the people from Douala) shoes are the first 100% African-sourced and African-made trainers on the market. Sporting a vintage-inspired aesthetic, the trainers boast the easy familiarity of a true classic-in-the-making.

Founded by three friends in Paris with a shared love for Africa and for shoes: Fabio Di Iorio, who worked in product development at Le Coq Sportif and Adidas Originals; Mehdi Slimani, who also worked in product management at Le Coq Sportif, and Frédéric Barthélemy, who still has a day job, but plans to devote himself to SAWA full-time in the very near future.

According to the trio, The SAWA story is about people, a story about a challenging economy against the North to South flow. Their idea is to show that you can purchase raw materials in Africa and transform these into finished Africa! That's why their canvas is sourced from Cameroon, the leather from Nigeria, the laces from Tunisia, the EVA from Egypt, the rubber from Egypt, the packaging from South Africa and it is all made in Cameroon!

“In a nutshell, Fabio, Mehdi and Fred are people who love to create and live without boundaries,” they point out. With a company as well-executed as SAWA, boundaries don’t stand a chance.

You can find their products already stocked in some fashion savvy countries such as in Dover Street Market in London, Comme des Garçon store in Tokyo and Soula in Brooklyn.

The SAWA trainers

The very familiar "Le Boxeur" match box and notebook from Cameroon!

I love this great idea, it is an inspiration to all those businesses and organisations who think Africa cannot produce! I thought the brains behind this idea were Cameroonians, although I am a little disappointed, I am still very proud of how they are showcasing our beloved country and continent.
Great work guys!

Stay sweet

Wednesday, July 28, 2010


Les Nubians are set to be back in the music scene with a new album set to be launched by September.

Apparently, the album draws inspiration from the inauguration of the first ever U.S black president, Mr Barack Obama and represents the evolution of dream and of women.

This album is highly anticipated especially after their hiatus from the music scene. It will be their third studio album.

The duo, Hélène and Célia Faussart are of French and Cameroonian heritage.

We are waiting!
Pictures by Nubiatik Publishing, LLC.

Stay sweet


Hello guys, I just wanted to share with you a little video I came across. It is of Yenih Ngwabo doing her thang representing Cameroon on a hot debate on football on VoxAfrica TV!
She did well and does not even seem nervous at all despite it being live!
Well done Yenih!
Catch her on her updates on her blog

Check out the video by clicking here

Stay sweet


My Rock chic girl, Menoosha submitted her track "Chamukuana" to the Mp3 Music Awards for the category of "Best African Artist".
To be nominated, she needs YOU! How can you help you ask? By voting with just a click, that will cost £0.60p.

Here is the link so go to your thang!
For now her website is down because she's updating however, you can still visit her Myspace page at

Get voting y'all!
Stay sweet

Tuesday, July 27, 2010


Mungwi sat on the bedside for one moment. She had just been awoken by a rowdy rooster that always hung outside her bedroom window. She fumbled in the darkness to find her slippers, and slipped her right foot into one of them. It was the wrong side; she switched both slippers and put them on. She then staggered out of the bedroom. She had to get ready. It was Saturday; it was market day in the city.

Mungwi had turn twelve the month before, and had just graduated from primary school with honors. She was a brilliant student, and she had made the A list in the common entrance examination. This exam allowed students to enroll in government secondary schools, which were way cheaper than private ones. She knew her parents could not afford a private school, so she had studied very hard for the exam. She knew she would do well in secondary school, but her prospect of going to secondary school was not too bright at this time.

Most of the government secondary schools were located in the city. So, every child that passed the common entrance exam had to move to the city in order to attend secondary school. Mungwi thought about it, then quickly pushed the idea aside. It might not be what the Gods wanted for her anyway, she thought. The best she could do at this time was to get ready and head to Abakwa market, where she could make some money. Today, she was going with one of the firewood bundles her father had prepared the day before. She knew she would find someone to buy it in the city.

Same as most growing cities, Abakwa was becoming more and more dependent on supplies from neighboring villages. The water supply for example came from a dam placed in a remote village in the hills; most food crops had to be brought in the city by villagers. In this sense, most neighboring villages often specialized in the supply of specific items.
Mungwi’s village, Bamunkwe, due to its proximity to the Balougoum forest, had specialized in supplying firewood and charcoal to house wholes in the city. Men in the village would cut the wood, tie some of them in bundles and burn some to make charcoal. They will then give it to the children on Saturday mornings to take to the city. These children often traveled in a caravan, swirling on the slippery paths in the mountain.
Once a child in the village celebrated his or her eighth birthday, he or she was immediately enrolled into the caravan. This caravan often left as early as five o’clock, in order to walk the twenty kilometers that separated the village from the city.

Children of Bamunkwe, were known for their strength and resilience. Constantly descending and ascending the mountain, most times with several kilograms of merchandise on their head, gave them exceptional stamina. Nonetheless, this resilience was often overshadowed by their lack of height. Most of these children were far below average for their age, when it came to height. Their constant hauling of several kilograms of wood and charcoal impeded their growth. They often appeared short and stout, with muscular features, not characteristic of children of their age.
Mungwi however, was an exception to the rule. She was tall enough for her age, but her skinny features made her look frail. This appearance nonetheless was clearly deceiving. Those who new the little girl, knew that she had the strength of a buffalo and could run like a deer. It was no secret in the village.
Every Saturday morning, as children lined up on the departure ground, she will help each one them to put their loads on their head. She will then grab her own load, which often weighed almost as much as she did, and flip it onto her head. Mungwi would always lead the caravan, setting the pace for the group.

Today, as Mungwi lead this rowdy bunch of kids to the market, her mind constantly went back to an issue that had been disturbing her for several months now. In fact, she had been promised to marriage as third wife to one of her father’s neighbors. She could not stand this idea at all, but she almost had no say in the matter. This unfortunate situation had resulted from her mother’s illness several months ago.

Ma Vero, Mungwi’s mother, had suddenly fallen sick and was rushed to the hospital in the city. After several weeks of undergoing treatment, she had been discharged by the doctors. The bill she received at the end amounted to several hundred thousand francs. Mungwi’s poor family could not afford to pay it.

In order to get his wife out of hospital, Pa Ndang had borrowed a huge amount of money from his neighbor. His wife had been held in the hospital for more than a week after her treatment. They would not let her go until she paid her bill in full. Pa Ndang had first pulled out all his savings but it had not been enough to pay for the bill. After several days of deliberation he had resorted into borrowing the money from his wealthier neighbor Pa Ndomgnwe. He knew this man had the reputation of treating his debtors roughly, but he had no choice.

It wasn’t long after, that Pa Ndomgnwe had showed up to his house early one morning to ask for his money. Pa Ndang did not have it. He had sold most of his crops, but could only come up with a meager amount. Pa Ndomgnwe gave him two other datelines that did not meet. It is then that Pa Ndomgnwe had exposed his vicious idea. He had boldly asked Pa Ndang to give him Mungwi, his only daughter as third wife. Pa Ndang had first burst into anger, before quickly calming down. He had then told his neighbor that he will think about it and get back to him.

Allowing his daughter to married this man meant she will never get the education he wanted her to get. He had always prayed that none of his children ended up uneducated like him. He had wished a better life for them. Things however seemed not to be going that way.After several months of resistance, Pa Ndomgnwe had openly threatened to send his neighbor to jail if he did not pay back the money or accept the marriage.

Pa Ndang had finally accepted the marriage deal, but had requested a couple of years for the child to be ripe for marriage. Pa Ndomgnwe had agreed, on condition that the girl remains in the village until the marriage. Every single day, Pa Ndang had prayed for a miracle that would get him out of this situation. However, life was far from getting better. He was old and could not work as hard as before. Money was scarce in his home.
Once in a while, Pa Ndomgnwe his neighbor will pay him a visit, just to make sure everything was in order. Father and daughter clearly hated these moments. No man is ever really comfortable around his creditor, especially one that has an eye on his daughter. Mungwi often disappeared as soon as the old man would show up. She would then wander around the neighborhood until he was gone. If only she could gain enough money to help his father pay back this man, she thought. Mungwi had decided to make two rounds to the market every Saturday, in a desperate attempt to buy back her freedom. She knew the only way for her to go to secondary school, was to pay back this man’s money.

For the past two Saturdays, she had been able to do the two rounds. Today however, she was not lucky. She had managed to find a customer very late in the morning, giving her no time to go back to the village. She sighed. Next week she will be luckier, she thought.

Now, all the children had sold their merchandise and they had decided to hang around the market for a while before heading home. So, they walked as a tight group around they busy market place. Mungwi, who had fallen behind, hurried to catch up with the group. There was safety in numbers, she knew it. Children from the same village would often stick together as they roamed the streets of Abakwa. Mungwi had heard of several stories of village girls who had been raped and molested by city boys. She knew she wasn’t ripe for marriage yet, as her mother often said. However, the look some of her village men and city men often give her made her aware of the danger always lurking by the corner.

As they walked, they could hear a noise in the distance. It was a huge crowd. They knew the municipal stadium was nearby, so it might be a football or a handball game going on.

After consulting with each other, they decided to go and watch for a couple of minutes. They finally got to the arena. As they stepped in, they quickly realized it wasn’t football nor handball, but an athletic competition. It will still be exciting to watch Mungwi thought as they made their way into the stands.

As they squeezed through the crowd, Mungwi spotted Mr. Ngong, their former physical education teacher. He had been transferred the year before to another school in Abakwa. The children screamed and wave towards the teacher. He waved back, as they sat down. About thirty minutes later, Mr. Ngong walked towards the children and pulled Mungwi aside. He appeared to be nervous.

- “I want to ask you a favor” he said “one of our athletes who were supposed to represent the city is sick. Can you run for us?”
He knew she could run, but surely not good enough to beat well trained athletes that were present.

- “What distance is it?” she asked.
- “It is 3000 meters” he said.
- "How many times do I need to run round the field” she questioned.
- “Seven and a half times” he replied “You don’t need to run that many times. You can do a couple of round and step out. We just need someone to represent our region”.

In fact, Mr. Ngong knew the federation would frown on the idea of a host city not having a representative in that competition. This might impact future athletic funding allocations for the region. Mungwi looked at the track for a moment. She counted from one to seven on her fingers, and looked at the track again. She can do this she said to herself. She could even run twenty times round that field. She accepted the deal.

However, what Mungwi ignored was the fact that this was not just running for fun. It was a competition and the rhythm was no joke. She quickly found out the hard way, as she was left in the dust at the sound of the whistle.

Mungwi hadn’t also been told that among the athletes that stood next to her, was Tegang, the national champion. The vice champion was also present. Mungwi struggled to find her rhythm as the gap between her and the group widened. She trailed behind for the first two round, but slowly began to build some speed.

As Mungwi’s tiny body bounced round the track, she started to gain confidence. Mr. Ngong stood on the sideline and watched the group of athletes as they crossed the end line for the third time. He looked at Mungwi as she struggled to catch up. He had promised her a thousand francs for participating. Couple of seconds later, as she in turn crossed the line, she looked at him and smiled. She had started to close the gap, and was doing so with a lot of ease.

Mungwi finally caught up with the rest of the runners. Instead of slowing down and integrating the group, she maintained her momentum and started to overtake them one after the other.
The crowd, which had been pretty silent up till then, liked what it was seeing. As this tiny girl bounced pass the older athletes, the crowd cheered. Now, she had made her way to a comfortable third position.

At the head of the peloton was Tegang, the national champion. She had been undefeated for the past five years. She was closely followed by the vice champion, as they suddenly break away from the group. They slowly increased their speed, thus increasing the gap between them and the rest of the group lead by Mungwi. This was a short escape. Mungwi quickly caught up with them, leaving the rest of the group behind.
As Mungwi ran, she seemed to be floating in the wind. Her slim feature gave her a certain advantage as she made her way round the track. She seemed determined not to stop anytime soon.

Suddenly, she started to sing the “market song” as she ran. It was a song children from her village often sang. Its enchanting melody gave them rhythm as they run down the hill to the market in the city. She knew all the words, even though the story made no sense to her. It was a story about a young girl who had been chosen by the king to be his fifth wife. However, she was in love with a young farmer instead. So, the night before the wedding, they decided to run away. As she ran with her lover, they were chased by the palace guards. But, their love was so strong that it gave them wings. They were able to escape.
How could love give someone wings? Mungwi thought. Her mind stayed in her fantasy world as her legs kept moving.
Tap! Tap! Tap! They went. She smiled as her footsteps clearly mimicked those of Tegang, who was a couple of feet ahead. Mungwi looked at the champion’s shoes as the gold and red colors glittered in the late morning sun. She wished she had one like that. She then realized how painful her old shoes were. She slowed for a moment, quickly pulled off her shoes and threw them on the curve. As she resumed her race, she felt relieved. She was used to running barefoot anyway. The crowd roared as she went by. The gap between her and the others had suddenly widened. She increased her speed as her bare feet slapped the grown.
Tap! Tap! Tap! They went. The crowd excited by this young barefoot runner started to cheer her up. Slowly, the gap between her and the lead group decreased. She was back with them.
Up till that time, both the champion and her vice had not paid attention to this little girl. Now, as they ran, they looked at each other, wondering how she could sustain such a rhythm. Just two more rounds to go. They had to cut her loose. They simultaneously hit onto the gas pedal and almost doubled their speed.

The champion’s coach who had been watching from the sideline jumped to his feet. He could not believe what he was seeing. It was too early for his athlete to increase speed. She could not sustain such a rhythm over the last two laps. She would burn out too soon.

The coach dashed to the side of the track, and tried to signal his athlete to slow down. She ignored him. This was a tactical mistake, the coach thought. This was not good at all.

In the main time, Mungwi who had been surprised by the sudden speed increase had taken a couple of seconds to adjust. She sped up in order to stay with them. Few seconds later, she was back in contact. They had left the rest of the runners in the dust. The trio gradually increased the gap, and was now out of reach.

Tap! Tap! Tap! They went, and Mungwi smiled. She was having fun. This time however, her lungs were burning. The extra effort put to catch up with the group had taken a toll on her.
Only one lap to go. The champion and her vice were becoming nervous. They had not been able to break away and they were now feeling the consequences. They struggled as lactic acid built up in their legs.
Three hundred meters to go. The vice-champion slowly gave up, letting Mungwi slide into second position. The crowd clapped and shouted as people got to their feet. They could not believe what they were seeing. A tiny village kid challenging the champion. This was truly amazing, people whispered.
Mungwi tried to focus on the champions steps one more time, but the race and its rhythm had taken a toll on her. Her tiny heart bounced in her chest in and effort to keep her going. Two hundred meters to the finish line. The champion attempted another breakaway. Mungwi stuck to her back, increasing her speed accordingly.
- “Mungwi! Mungwi! Mungwi!,” The crowd chanted.

One hundred meters to the finish line. The champion accelerated one last time, but slowed down immediately. The pain in her legs had become too intense. She had burned out. She struggled to put one step in front of the other. Mungwi saw the opportunity. She shifted onto the side, and decided to overtake the champion. The crowd went frantic, as kid sprang along the sideline to accompany the duo. For the next sixty meters, both athletes ran side-by-side in a desperate attempt to cross the line first.
As they came closer to the finish line, Mungwi dug into her final reserve and dove across the line. She staggered and went face first on the ground.

The crowd quickly surrounded Mungwi, chanting and clapping. She had beaten the champion. She had done what no one in this town had ever done. Two solid hands grabbed her from the ground, and raised her to her feet.
- “Give her space to breath!” Someone shouted, as two young men started pushing the crowd away.
- “Don’t let her sit, she needs to keep walking for a while” Another person shouted. The two hands that had grabbed Mungwi earlier firmly supported her, as she slowly walked for a couple of feet.

The roar and shouting from the stadium could easily be heard in the nearby marketplace, as more people ran towards into the arena to see what was happening.
After she had regained her breath, two men grabbed the tiny girl and put on their shoulder and proceeded to run round the field for a victory lap. The crowd of almost a thousand people followed the procession, whistling and clapping.

- “Pirim pirim pim Oyié! pirim pirim pim oyié!” They chanted.
They finally reached the grand stand, were a podium had been set for the medal ceremony. However, the medal could not be awarded before the end of the all the events taking place. They had to wait for about an hour. Mungwi sat on the ground in the soccer field, as Mr. Ngong the teacher took care of the bruises she had sustained when she felt.

Half and hour had gone by, as they sat, waiting for the ceremony. Mr. Ngong the teacher had been going back and forth from the officials to his athlete. He was now in a frantic discussion with one of them. After a couple of minutes, he came back toward the little girl and sat next to her. He appeared sad and frustrated
- “They don’t want to give you the medal” he said “They said you’ve been disqualified”
- “Why?” ask the little girl “What did I do?”
- “It is nothing of your doing” the teacher continued “they said you should not have been allowed to compete in the first place. They said you are not licensed by the federation and you are too young to compete in the senior category”

Mungwi sat motionless.
- “Am I still going to get my thousand francs?” she asked
- “Yes! Of cause you will!” replied the teacher “I did promise you”
- “Ok” she said and shrugged her shoulder.

Minutes later, as Mr. Lubang, the mayor hung the medal onto Tegang, the champion’s neck; Mungwi stood in the crowd and watched. She really felt no sadness. She hadn’t come to the competition to win. She will get her thousand francs from the teacher anyway. That was good enough. She looked around, as people voiced their indignation. This was not fair, they said, the little girl deserved her medal. Soon as the mayor hung the medal on the Tegang’s neck, she took it off. She looked at it for a moment, and descended from the podium. Everybody looked at her, surprised.

Tegang slowly went towards the crowd and pulled out the little girl. She held her hand as they walked back towards the podium. The crowd was silent.

The champion asked Mungwi to climb onto the highest step on the podium and hung the medal on the little girl neck.

- “You deserve this my sister, you are a champion” She said.
She then handed Mungwi the envelop that contained the winner’s prize. The crowd that had been quiet burst into applause and people nodded in approval.

- “God bless you sister” They said, as Tegang made her way through the crowd and left. The crowd decided to make on last victory lap around the field. Mungwi preceded the group. This time she held her medal in the air, as thousand of people followed her chanting and clapping.

As they circled the field, the mayor who had sat down, rose back from his chair. He whispered something into his assistant ear and she quickly headed towards the crowd. She directed them back towards the grand stand were the mayor was seated. The mayor, Mr. Lubang had quickly seen in this a golden opportunity. In fact, he was running for election the next year, and it was never too early to start a campaign.

As the crowd approached, he hastily dug him right hand into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of cash. He tried to count it, but he had no time. The crowd of almost a thousand stood in front of him, and was waiting. He quickly folded the money into his left hand. He called Mungwi to the stand, to stand next to him. He looked into the crowd to make sure the photographers were doing their job. A huge grin crossed his face as camera flashes came from left and right. He then turned and shook the young girl’s hand, pausing again for the pictures. The mayor then looked at the folded bundle of cash in his left hand. There was no time to put it in an envelope. He knew that money was too much for this little girl, but there was no way he could count it to know the exact amount. He half heartedly handed her the money, clearly wishing he had anticipated this. The crowd cheered and clapped for several minutes in sign of approval. The mayor had acted like a “man” they said.

The mayor raised his hand as the crowd suddenly went silent. He then went on to speak for several minutes about his constant effort to promote physical activities in the region, and how he was proud that the hard work is now yielding some fruits. He reminded the crowd that they needed to vote him next year in order for him to continue the good work. By the time the mayor finished his long rant, most of the people had left. Their moment of celebration had suddenly turned into a political campaign. Last to leave the area was Mungwi and her close companions. They headed straight to the village. There was no time to waste.
As they headed back to the village, their market sung was sweeter than it had ever been. As people pass them on the road, they could feel the joy and pride in this bunch of kids.
By the time Mungwi reached the Bamunkwe, the news had already spread. The entire event had been broadcasted on the radio.
All the neighbors had gathered in her father’s compound, to welcome their phenomenal daughter. Pa Ndomgnwe was also present. He smiled as he chewed his cola nut, exposing the few teeth left in his mouth. They had become so brown that no amount of brushing could ever make them white again. He looked at Mungwi as she entered the compound and his smiled grew wider. That was his wife-to-be and he was proud. He walked towards the little girl, but she hastily dodged him and ran towards her mother. Pa Ndomgnwe laughed and looked at the tinny girl as she ran. He was a patient man. A couple more years, and he could claim his prize: Nice, young and sweet.
Mungwi dashed into her mother arms as she reached the middle of the compound. Mother and daughter danced around with joy as the crowd that had gathered around them chanted. They sang songs of praise to Mungwi and the family.
Pa Ndang, Mungwi’s father, stood on his doorway and watched. He waited. A man of his caliber in not supposed to show excitement just like a woman. He had to stay calm.
After several round of dancing, Mungwi who had just spotted her father, broke away from the group. She calmly walked towards the old man. She could not dash into his arm as she would have liked to; that would be inappropriate.
- “Ma Mu!” The old man said, three times in a row. That was how he always called her, in reference to his own mother to whom Mungwi was a namesake. Mungwi loved that name, and she also loved her grand-mother. It was not uncommon in the compound to hear Mungwi been called “big mami” or “grand Ma”
- “I am proud of you my daughter” He said. “You’ve brought honor to this family” The old man continued, as he rubbed the little girls head.Mungwi bowed her head and smiled.
- “I’ve sent your brothers to buy some drinks from the store” he said “Go and dance with the others”
Mungwi turned and started to walk back but quickly remembered she had something for the old man. She came back, dipped her hand into her pocket, pulled out the envelop, the bundle of cash and handed it to her father.
The old man looked at the money, surprised.
- “This is what they gave me after the race” Mungwi said.
Pa Ndang took the package and quickly went back into his room. Mungwi sprang towards the dancing women. The night will surely be long she thought, as neighbor flooded the compound. Men carried palm wine and women brought food the had quickly made for the occasion. Pa Ndang sat on his old mattress and counted the money. His eyes widened with amazement. He could not believe what he was seeing. He counted the money several times to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

He finally put the money into the old milk can he used as bank and shoved it under his bed. He walked back towards the door and hailed his wife. Ma Vero ran towards her husband, still sweating from the acrobatic dance moves she had just made.

Pa Ndang, in an unusual public display of affection, held both the woman’s hands. He then whispered into her ears:
- “Our daughter is going to secondary school”Ma Vero stepped back, surprised.
- “It is true my wife, it is true indeed” Pa Ndang said. “Go and celebrate”
Ma Vero knew her man. He was not one to joke with such matters. She smiled and sprang back to her dancing. Her joy had just been multiplied tenfold.
Pa Ndang slowly walked back into his room to put on his best garment and attend to his visitors.

Go to his blog here

If you would like to get your short stories published on DC, please email us here:

Stay Sweet

Friday, July 23, 2010


The designer behind the Kreyann label; Anna Ngann Yonn is doing tremendously well in developping her label within the international fashion scene.

Last year at the first Arise Africa Fashion Week in Jo'burg SA, she unveiled a collection with key pieces that were featured in Pride Magazine as seasons must have.

This year, fresh from unveiling at the Labo Ethnik fashion event in Paris Anna shows us that she still has more in her creative books to show the world.

I am in love with her recent collection. I love the fluidity, the femininity and the fusion of vibrant and earthy colours in her designs. Bravo Anna, you are arguably the Number one Camer fashion designer around.

See her new collection below. Enjoy!

Me loves this chic look! The whole image is so just right!

Love this!

My fav! I want this!

Stay sweet

Monday, July 19, 2010


It’s been a while and we have been M.I.A with the regular fortnightly interviews here on DC. We apologise and and aim to revert to bringing you the coolest, trendiest, sexiest and most fabulous Cameroonians out there doing great things around the globe so watch out now!

Today we bring you a very talented up and coming designer who despite being out only a short while ago has managed to share the stage with some very successful and well known African designers.

Fresh from her FIMA participation, she also took part in the 6th edition of the Afric Collection fashion event in Douala, Cameroon last February.

Her interview below is in French, le Cameroun est bilingue afterall and we do have some francophone readers frequently visiting DC!

Happy Reading y’all!

DC : Bonjour Charlotte, merci de nous parler!
CM : Merci à vous aussi c’est un plaisir pour moi de répondre à vos questions.

DC : Qu’est ce qui vous a poussé dans l’industrie de la mode?
CM : Disons que j’avais été orienté pas ma mère qui avait compris très tôt que j’étais faite pour un métier artistique du fait que je passais très souvent mon temps à dessiner.

DC : Que faut-il comme qualités pour faire ce métier?
CM : Déjà il faut avoir beaucoup de patience, croire en ce qu’on fait donc se donner les moyens physiques et psychologiques pour atteindre ces objectifs.

DC : Faut-il une qualification ou un diplôme?
CM : Moi j’ai eu une formation de stylisme à l’institut Supérieur des Beaux Arts Cheikh Anta Diop de Yaoundé, ou j’ai reçu des enseignements qui m’ont permis de mieux comprendre les métiers de la mode mais j’aimerais bien souligner que l’école ne contribue qu’à 30 pourcent et 70pour cent de la formation c’est sur le train.

DC : A-t-il été facile de créer votre marque ?
CM : Je dis toujours que moi je rentre dans le métier un peu au hasard, suite à un devoir de classe que j’envoies à Cultures France pour le concours « l’Afrique est à la mode » sur conseil de mon professeur de classe Christophe Emerit . Et c’est ainsi que je fus sélectionner en 2007 pour participer au concours au FIMA. C’est donc de cette manière que mon nom c’est fait.

DC : Qu’est-ce qui vous inspire?
CM : Ma premier source d’inspiration c’est mon environnement et aussi je m’inspire d’autres créateurs de mode.

DC : Des nouveaux talents qui émergent sur la scène internationale nous viennent du Nigeria et du Ghana, à quand pour le Cameroun?
CM : Je pense que les créateurs camerounais commencent déjà à se faire voir sur la scène internationale comme Imane Ayissi ou encore Anggy Haif.

DC : Que doit faire le Gouvernement du Cameroun pour rehausser son image ?
CM : Le gouvernement camerounais qu’il le veuille ou pas, l’image du Cameroun est reconnue grâce à ses artistes. Qu’il essai d’encourager un peu plus leurs artistes qui se battent corps et âme pour porter plus haut le drapeau camerounais.

DC : Qui aimerez-vous habiller, qu’il soit célèbre ou pas, Africain ou Blanc ?
CM : Alicia Keys !

DC: Vous avez pris part au Festival Internationale de la Mode Africaine (FIMA) au Niger, comment ca se passé?
CM: Le FIMA c’est une grosse plate forme qui regroupe en même temps des créateurs et les médias qui viennent de partout. Il ya un concours de jeunes créateurs qui est organisé pas Cultures France ou les jeunes créateurs viennent présenter leur travail à un jury d’experts. Je dirais aussi que pour cette année 2009, j’ai été l’une des lauréats de ce concours j’ai obtenu le troisième prix. Puis les derniers jours du festival il y’a le grand défilé des créateurs. Le festival en lui-même c’est très bien déroulé.

DC : Quel conseil à votre avis, pouvez-vous donner à quelqu’un qui aspire à faire carrière dans la mode ?
CM : Je lui dirais tout simplement que si c’est le métier qu’il a choisi de faire, qu’il le fasse en s’amusant.

DC: Et voila! Merci pour l’entrevue!
CM: Merci et je vous souhaite déjà santé, bonheur et pour cette année 2010.

Some of her fab designs!

Marque : Charlotte Mbatsogo
Numéro de contact: 00237 22 11 78 22/96 32 01 48

Stay Sweet

Sunday, July 18, 2010


Hey guys, hope you are having a wonderful weekend. The sun is shinning, what more could you want?
Thought I should share something wonderful I came across. I find it such a powerful piece and I have to say I am in love with their voices!!
Enjoy and have a great Sunday!!

Stay sweet

Thursday, July 8, 2010


They look delicious and they are small, cupcakes are the new foodie craze! Why not savour these freshly baked and exquisitely decorated cakes made to order for any occasion.


Say it with cupcakes!
Email: Cynthia at for a quote or to order.

Stay sweet (literally!)

Friday, July 2, 2010


The Ecran Noir Film Festival 2010 took place in Yaoundé from May 29th to June 5th. Attended by a diverse crowd, the culture and arts connoisseur himself Mr Tito Valery brought DC his review.

Happy Reading!

The theme capping this 14th edition was “Cinema and literature”, capital points and an indispensable role that serves as compasses to a good movie. This is interesting, especially if you recall the scriptwriter’s strike in Hollywood and its impact on the whole soap and Sci-fi cuts-rail. A good scenario would most probably make a great flick but you don’t want to have pale actors. Bassek himself directing “le silence de la forest” in the late nineties had a good cast but a sure better scenario. If you can, check out the film as I won’t be revealing any details. BBK as he is normally called by his close cast members is a man of literature.

Calyxthe Beyala’s document on the Cameroonian Afro-Parisian jazz artist, Manu Dibango was the movie screening on the opening ceremony on the 29th of May at the Ongola Congress hall. The tradition of “l’amour and le chic” met once again as the red carpet walk saw some of Cameroon’s finest under one roof. Soccer stars such as Pagal, Makanaki and Djemba Djemba stopped for a pose. Representing on the Hip hop and soul front were stars such as the very stormy Valsero and the gracious Corry Deguemo, the female singer of the urban-afro-funk band Macase. Professors, actors, doctors, directors and young dynamic and urban-chic entrepreneurs also represented. Basically, everybody who was somebody was there!

The photographers’ Association handled the paparazzi effect with their black suits and bow-ties which I particularly liked. As if these weren’t enough to change even the shiest ones into Marylyn Monroes and James Deans, the show’s red carpet event aired live on three local television stations.

During the festival, the stage glowed “au village”. The Assiko dance, the traditional initiative dance from the coastal Bassa area, a trippy rhythm built by metal collisions on empty glass bottle xylophones was executed by the artist called “danger-solo”. Avaghys also took over the stage in reggae style with his Afro-reggae Bantu root concept. There was also spoken word by the artist “stone” who dropped a slam to shut the stage down.

After one week of education and entertainment, it is clear that Africa still has not forgotten how to tell its stories. Some more to go! Cut! Now that’s when you say "it’s a wrap!”

Jean Piere Bekolo Obama & Bassek Ba Khobio

Tito & a participant

Let's move from one way of expression to another and just say Go Ghana Go this evening!!
Stay sweet