The Diary Game [12/10/2025] // Presidential Election Day.
Hi guys, accept steem greetings from the motherland of Cameroon and welcome to my blog where I share my lifestyle content.
Today was one of those days I will remember for a long time. I woke up at 4:30 AM, even before my alarm rang. The presidential elections were happening today, and as a citizen and election observer, I had a lot on my plate. But first things first, the family must eat. I went straight to the kitchen and began preparing banana acra and pap for breakfast. The ripe bananas were just perfect, soft and sweet, and I mashed them with flour and spices before deep-frying them golden brown. The aroma filled the house, and by 6:00 AM, my husband and three children were at the table, smiling sleepily and enjoying their plates.
After breakfast, I cleaned up quickly, making sure the house was tidy. I changed into my work mode, packed my documents, ID card, and water bottle, and left the house by 7:00 AM for the polling station assigned to me. The sun was already out, and the streets were buzzing with activity. The polling station was crowded, and voters were already lining up.
My first task was to assist people in verifying their names on the register pasted on the wall outside. Some elderly people could not read clearly, so I patiently helped them check their names and directed them to the right voting rooms.
But by mid-morning, trouble started brewing. I noticed a group of young men moving suspiciously around the area. Then I saw it with my own eyes, some individuals were offering money to voters, urging them to vote for a particular candidate. I took note and quietly reported it to the appropriate authorities, but deep down, I knew this was not an isolated incident.
By 1:00 PM, I returned home to grab a quick lunch and rest my feet. I had some fufu and eru, then lay down for about thirty minutes before heading back. At the station, the crowd had slightly thinned, but there was tension in the air. People were whispering about fraud, and the atmosphere grew more charged as the day wore on.
By 6:00 PM, voting officially ended, and the polls closed. That’s when things became more troubling. Doors were shut, and voters were told to leave. I tried to remain calm, even though I knew that counting should be public. Some military men stood by the gate, stern-faced, warning people not to record anything with their phones. It was intimidating, and for a moment, I feared things would spiral.
But Cameroonians are not cowards. People started chanting, demanding to witness the counting. They pushed back, and eventually, the pressure worked. The officials reluctantly allowed the public to observe. We all watched, eyes wide, hearts pounding, as votes were counted one by one.
When it was over, I could not believe it the candidate I voted for was leading in every polling station I had visited. I returned home around 9:30 PM, exhausted but filled with hope. My feet ached, but my heart was light. Maybe, just maybe, change is coming. Until my next diary guys, happy start of a new week.
