a lion

This article, which has stood the test of time, deserves a new life, a new reading being updated. By sharing it again, I hope that his words will resonate with the same intensity as before, and that they will continue to touch, to inspire, as they did two years ago. .

When the Indomitable Lions conquered the field, our nights were changed to the melody of love, where the dawn surprised us, often with tears of nostalgia. It was a trip out of time, jumping over the borders of Cameroon, far from our roots, our families and our friends. But as each new competition approached, our souls returned to their native land, drawn inevitably by the memories of our past heroes. We then began our ritual, examining the new faces created by the new team, looking in them for the shadow of Roger Milla, the strength of Manga Onguené, or even the aura of Thomas Nkono or Bell Joseph Antoine. We were reassured by discovering talents like Eto’o Fils and Kameni Carlos, sons of the country, ready to continue the legend. Each new hope, each new name added to our pantheon, shook the chord of wonder in us, the one that connected us to the roots of our history.

Football then became our compass, always bringing us back to Cameroon. The virtues of those Lions sustained our courage, we renewed the nights of exile, and at the same time changing our sighs into cries of joy. Football was not just a sport, it was a form of our being, a litany we sang as we followed the course of our lives, always looking for New epics, new feats. Each game was a lesson in humility and pride. I feel like I have followed every game of the Lions since this team existed. For Cameroonian, every lion game was an opportunity to dream, to believe in the impossible. We looked at the replays, drinking in small sips the bitterness of the losses and the energy of the victories prepared us to expect the new meeting. Cameroon, in those times, became a country in turmoil. National colors flooded the streets, taxis and motorbikes came to the rhythm of the upcoming party. The jerseys, worn proudly on sweaty bodies, bore witness to this popular drive. It was a time of communion, where all Cameroonians, wherever they were, felt this pride.

And the women, oh, they weren’t left out. Football captured them just as much as us, those who knew the names of the newcomers by heart, followed with passion every pass, every goal. In the evening, after victory, love we danced in an unruly way until dawn, as a tribute to the country, to this pride of being Cameroonian. But the blows brought us to a deep melancholy, a sense of abandonment that only went away with the next start. We resumed our walks, eyes fixed on the horizon, impatiently waiting for the next opportunity for fun, to believe again in the magic of football.

Every game, every minute on the pitch, reminded us that football was much more than a game. A football player, for us, was not only a star, but a hero, a figure to be respected, to be seen. The Indomitable Lions, with each goal, with each victory, saved Cameroon a little more. The children were playing, laughter was exploding, even on fields without grass, and in the bistros, conversations were going well, between memories and hopes. Our team, over the decades, had lost none of its clarity, its mystery, this magical aura that made it one of the best among the masses. The Cameroonians defended their team with vigor, armed with statistics, memories, passion. Football, for us, was a common thread that crossed generations, a heritage we were proud to carry.

Every player, every hero of the past, from Mbappé Leppé to Roger Milla, from Bell Jojo to Eto’o, had left an indelible mark on our history. And I myself, in exile, was carried away by this passion, this unstoppable connection with football and with my country. I experienced so many moments of happiness thanks to them, to those players who brought their soul to Cameroon. I would love to meet them, shake their hands, thank you. I was lucky to live in the same century as them, to share this common history, to feel this pride in being Cameroonian. Football is life in Cameroon. It is a passion, a religion, a symbol of national pride. It replaces wars, unites hearts, and each victory is a step closer to immortality. We will continue to sing and dance, live each game as if it were our last, because football is our own life, with its big and small things. makes us who we are.