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Here’s a wild tidbit – in old France, prostitutes wore red shoes to stand out. Red shoes! Like some twisted fairy tale. I’m picturin’ her now, rockin’ them heels, laughin’ at me starin’. I ask, “What’s the rate, hon?” She says, “50 bucks, no hagglin’.” I’m surprised – thought it’d be more! Guess I’m green as a gourd. “The devil has many faces,” I mutter, thinkin’ bout the movie again. She’s like, “What’s that, preacher?” I laugh, “Nothin’, just ramblin’.”

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The city’s center hides real treasures. That old market, Vieux Marché, smells of spices and sweat; a blend that gets your heart hammering – sorta like passion at first sight. I’ve seen couples meeting under dim neon when all rules bend, like life’s cosmic twist – utterly absurd, as Joel and Ethan would say.

Youth of Mamfe benefit from Osabarima Ansah Sasraku’s youth empowerment initiatives