The call came in shortly before 4 p.m. today.

"Good afternoon," I said in French.

"Good afternoon Mama Alice, she replied in French.  "How are you?"

While I recognized her voice, I could not put a name or a face on it.  But OK, she knows my name, so we must be friends.   "I am fine, thank you," I said in the polite Cameroon way.  "And how are you?"

"I am fine.  How is Papa Jim?"

The plot thickens.  She knows both of us.  But who is she?  The voice is very familiar.  We certainly must know her. But I am at a loss as to who she is.  "He's fine, thank you," I reply.  Polite conversation is liberally sprinkled with "thank yous".  

"Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year to you, too."   Who could you possibly be, I wondered.

And then the dreaded question came: 

"Do you know who this is?"

"Yes.  I know your voice very well.  But I'm forgetting your name,"  I replied, hoping against hope that this would appease her. 

"When you hear my voice  you know who I am.  So tell me, what do you think my name is?"

Now I'm trapped.  Everyone wants to be your best friend.  Everyone wants you to always remember them, down to the last detail.  Everyone is deeply offended if you cannot at least conjure up their name.   

"Oh but my friend, I do know your voice.  It's just your name that has escaped my mind.  If I could remember it, I would have already told you.  My mind is a blank."  Thankfully this pacifies her.

"Yes!  You do know me!"  She's very excited now.  "I'm your mother you know!"

Sorry, this isn't helping at all.  Not even a tiny bit.  Who among all the many, many Cameroonians that we know do I refer to as my mother????  Ladies of a certain age are called Mama this or Mama that, but to be MY MOTHER?  I don't think so.  

"Yes, you are my mother."

And then finally it comes out.  "I'm Monique!"

"How are you, Monique?  It's good to hear your voice."  Monique?  Monique who???  The only Monique I know is young enough to be my daughter.  And besides, this is not that Monique's voice.

"Oh, I'm not doing very well.  It's my legs.  They are giving me pains.  You know I'm getting old.  It is getting hard to move about."

"Yes, I understand the problems of the aged.  I'm getting old now, too."  

Her "Good-bye" was dripping with smiles.  She was so happy to have gotten to talk with Mama Alice and wish her Happy New Year.  And she was especially delighted that Mama Alice remembered her.

But Mama Alice hasn't a clue who she really is.  Welcome to Cameroon.  This is a fairly regular occurrence out here on the Dark Side of the Moon.