Original subtitles

The President

Hello?

Yes!

OK.

Dear viewer, you're watching 'Canal D'

with Jo Wood'ou, the first in the field,

because the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.

I'm here in the presidential parking lot

wondering what happened to the President this morning?

Resignation? Death? Disappearance? Who knows?

We're on the President's trail. We're all looking for him.

You're on Canal D with Jo Wood'ou. Stay tuned.

Mr. President, you're about to fly to New York.

What is the purpose of your trip?

On October 24th, following opposition to my government,

Cameroon's Legislative Assembly

asked France to intervene on our behalf at the United Nations.

Turmoil at the palace after the President's sudden disappearance,

which has raised many questions about the strange conditions

surrounding his departure.

How could the President leave the Palace

without anyone knowing his itinerary or destination?

Many questions flood the minds

of those wishing to understand this mysterious event.

You speak of this man as if you knew him.

And it's true. You do know him.

You have your reasons.

You informants.

Television.

The Internet.

You hear the rumors.

You know the President, my friends.

It's becoming more and more difficult.

It's like a sign announcing the end of a long journey.

Yep.

42 years.

What do you think, John? - You shouldn't think too much.

Let time do its work.

The relationship that I, Jo Wood'ou,

have with the President is through television.

Hypnotic!

It was through the small screen

that he punctuated every moment of my life.

When I was born, he was already the President.

When I learned to walk, he was still the President.

When I learned to talk, went to kindergarten,

to school, to university,

the President was still the President.

Now I am on television too,

and the President is still the President!

You understand

that his disappearance is a turning point for me

and for a whole generation.

But he hasn't always been the man

you see today.

A man, still powerful, but already tired.

Whose slightest gesture or silence is discussed

from the splendor of the palace

to the roughest streets of the slums.

But the one that I remember

is the one that sent me here.

The one who called me his friend.

The are only a handful of us who truly know him.

I met him in the 60s.

We studied Law together.

And we went into the service.

We dreamed to one day change this country

into one where everyone would have a place.

We had just won independence.

We could finally decide our future.

The country was ready to be built.

And we were lucky enough to be among the chosen ones.

As no one here has ever chosen his President,

myself included,

Canal D will be the first choice

of a new generation.

A television choice,

which, in turn, is a presidential choice.

Television means stars!

Our president is a star!

He has the most beautiful women, the nicest car,

all the country's money,

to give out however and wherever he likes.

And he has millions of groupies!

And his security!

The entire army and police only protect him!

When he is on TV, every channel,

even Canal D, your favorite,

stop all their programs for him!

Being president here means living the Hollywood dream!

We continued on like that.

We saw each other often.

He even became my supervisor.

But he trusted me.

He knew that I had the country's best interest at heart.

Believe it or not

I never embezzled a penny.

Neither did he.

Back then.

And then the old man went and became president.

Our relationship quickly deteriorated.

He wanted the status quo. I wanted serious reforms.

It had been 20 years. He'd always known me.

And, well, his cronies, his new vultures

in high positions

convinced him that I was planning a coup d'état.

And that I had to be eliminated.

My men are with him.

I'm aware of his every movement.

If anything out of the ordinary happens

I will be notified immediately.

I feel like we're turned around.

Yes. It's like we're lost.

The President has disappeared.

What's in your file?

In a case where the president is no longer around,

there are institutional mechanisms

for dealing with the power vacuum.

Handling the period when the ex-president is no longer there

and designating provisional leadership

to ensure the functioning of the state.

Why is he taking this trip?

According to the 1996 constitution... - Hello?

...it's the President of the Senate who should take power

until elections can be held to appoint a new President.

But after the 1996 constitutional reform

the Senate was never established.

The President, who is just an elected authority,

should not choose his own replacement.

Only the sovereign people have the constitutional power

to choose the President of the Republic.

Even if it seems like we have a formal democratic framework,

that institutional system has never been established.

And it has not been established because the Constitution conserves

a division of power that is extremely favorable

to the executive branch, particularly the President.

In light of the authority that the Constitution gives him,

he is basically a super power.

The President remains in an imperial position

playing a political game.

In reality, this President is a sovereign

meaning he acts like a monarch and is able to compete

with the rightful sovereign as established in the Constitution:

The people.

I've taken this road for years. It's a quick turn.

And you...

You can't even find the pavement.

He played golf for the last time.

Then he had an important meeting.

That woman exaggerates, Mr. President.

Hello?

Excuse me, Mr. President, I had important issues to attend to.

I only heard about the meeting at the last minute.

Yes, Mr. President.

Et tu, Brute?

Et tu, Brute?

Et tu, Brute?

Et tu, Brute?

Et tu, Brute?

Jo Wood'ou here, the first reporter in this field

of a new audio-visual landscape in Cameroon.

Why the field?

Because the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.

Just the facts.

To err is human. But here at 'D' we'll refute it.

'D' is also for deontology.

Now to the facts.

Here is where the President took an unknown turn.

Did he go to his village?

If so, he never arrived.

Disappearance, death, departure...

He never arrived.

Disappearance, death, departure... 3 D's!

Or A: Abduction. E: Escape.

All theories are possible.

Canal D will shed so much light on the President

that you'll be blinded!

Too bad if the darkness takes you. That's the price of truth.

I'm Jo Wood'ou, your humble servant,

and I swear before you and this camera

that I will never flee from the lies that envelop this country.

I am a soldier of truth!

I will destroy the ghosts that cloud this country

and keep us from seeing the light.

It feels like I'm advancing towards an ocean of desert.

And I don't recognize anything.

I just had time to come here.

This nature seems strange now that it belongs to me.

To my people.

I'm ashamed to make my mea culpa.

It's my people. My country. My nature.

The cock stopped crowing in the village

after the sacred drum announced the storm,

after all the warnings of the wise old men

and the Marabout rituals at the edge of the shore.

The news came from the oldest bearded man

under the shadow of the oldest baobab.

Our sovereign King is sick.

Pray for him because misfortune never waits

to knock at a stranger's door

but who would have thought his Majesty the King.

There are the strong, the weak, the fearful,

and those who care little about the King's health.

There are those who fear for the population,

and those already sucking at the blood of succession.

The village has a new look.

Nothing about the future bodes well.

From the notable to the griots and even to the elders,

everyone has changed characters.

The King's crown floats in the air.

Heads bump to see who shall wear it.

Peace shall go to die in war

as long as there's a head to be crowned King.

The King's crown floats in the air.

Heads bump to see who shall wear it.

Peace shall go to die in war

as long as there's a head to be crowned King.

Little by little, as if by magic,

public figures discover ethnic differences.

We tell each child of the ingratitude of the race from the North

or the race from the South.

Between elders and the notable: Two camps.

The King's cousins, brothers, sons: Two camps.

Between aboriginals: Two camps.

People no longer go to the fields.

But machetes are sharpened every morning.

The day will come to cut the neighbor into pieces.

The dying King will sometimes even ask

'How are the people?' 'How are the villagers?'

The elders and the notable respond with one voice:

'Everything's going well. They're doing well, my King.'

'Our crops will be good this year.' Even if hasn't rained in months.

The King's crown floats in the air.

Heads bump to see who shall wear it.

Peace shall go to die in war

as long as there's a head to be crowned King.

The King's crown floats in the air.

Heads bump to see who shall wear it.

Peace shall go to die in war

as long as there's a head to be crowned King.

A King's problem is the distance

between his truth and what the people think of him.

Despite the growing tension

it's to the same melodies that the King's griots dance.

Honey attracts flies as does decay.

Royalty attracts people but also downfall.

The rich have sent their women and children away.

Only poor families are left in the villages.

Innocent victims of schemes,

so close to a future tinged with violence.

Enemies, old friends of the King, await.

Waiting patiently for nature to run its course,

so that the blood of vengeance may flow,

healing the wounds of so many years of allegiance.

The King will die. The village knows it.

But after him, not even the King knows.

The King's crown floats in the air.

Heads bump to see who shall wear it.

Peace shall go to die in war

as long as there's a head to be crowned King.

The King's crown floats in the air.

Heads bump to see who shall wear it.

Peace shall go to die in war

as long as there's a head to be crowned King.

The latest news is that

the President will speak with a rapper named Valsero.

It seems that the President has proposed

that Valsero replace him as President.

We'll know at the end of the meeting if General Valsero has accepted.

I am here because I received your letter.

It was enlightening, and caught my attention.

That's why I have come to talk with you.

I believe you embody a certain youthfulness

that should be recognized.

We live in a changing world.

Our country cannot escape the explosion happening today

in the economy, sports, music... Why not?

So my question is, to find a successor

to this burden of being President,

would a singer or a footballer be able to accept this responsibility?

You think that coming here to meet me

solves the problem of the youth who look at you

and wonder what you'll do with their future?

- I thought that's what you wanted. - No.

You wrote about how the youth suffer and can't find work.

- But not so you'd come see me. - You wanted to talk, so here I am.

You're talking about a country today

that's full of resourcefulness.

Today there is a huge number of motorcycle taxis.

And it is increasing as unemployment increases.

And there are even more 'call-boxers'

because the youth are in the street.

That's informal commerce.

Those businesses don't pay any taxes.

I agree. I do.

It's catastrophic because

it devalues the human condition.

You see people risking their lives

without helmets, without anything,

driving motorcycles in the sun.

Even with a degree, we can lose our way.

The call box is the same.

So we must reform the driving code.

- No, no! You can't... Excuse me, Mr. President.

You can't fix the failures of an entire system

with a driving code reform!

We can't put a policeman behind every biker.

I agree. But you're a long way from us on this one.

I don't think so.

Do you think it's the President's fault

if young people graduate and can't find jobs?

The solution is to give youth

the means to live in their country.

Youth who go to school, and have degrees need jobs.

If you can't guarantee the youth

that after their studies they can get a job...

Why are 80% of graduates unemployed if the system has not failed?

It's not the President's job to know

if the youth who graduate can find jobs.

But you know what's terrible

is that everyone works for the President,

the Minister of Education,

the Minister of Social Affairs

the Minister of Women's Issues

and everyone else.

The Minister of Sports

who you should have sent to prison years ago.

He won't even fix up the only stadium we have.

We don't have any concert halls, or cinemas, or anything.

These informal businesses are the ones that make money.

If you can call it money.

They're the call boxers and the moto-taxis.

They make 100, 500 francs a day.

But people shouldn't live on 500 francs a day

if they have a degree!

It's not possible. That's what the youth are protesting.

Young people are tired of being guinea pigs.

When you go to the clubs, do you know who the stars are?

Your Ministers!

And they're with girls. And they play big.

And they drive around in big government cars.

The big cars that you bought for them to use.

And they cruise around. That's all.

And you can't act like you don't know.

And what would you do in my place?

Excuse me, Mr. President.

When the body is ill, it's because the head's not right.

And you are our head of state.

I'm different from you, Mr. Philosopher?

Yes, because you have said, from your perspective,

that the youth is amorphous, condemned to drink,

totally stupid and worthless.

You may be surprised, but the youth see your visit here as another trap.

I can rephrase that. I mean no disrespect.

No, Mr. Valsero. Our conversation is over for today.

Perhaps I can invite you somewhere besides your house

where we can speak freely.

Maybe we can find a solution about my successor.

During his trip, the President and the main opposition leader

met at the latter's hotel.

His opponent invited him for a drink,

and they met for nearly half an hour.

This is the hotel where the President

met the leader of the opposition.

Why did they meet?

Did the President express his intentions for leaving power?

Does the irony of this not amuse you?

I am a loyal politician.

I fight my opponents by being loyal,

not by talking about you.

You have monopolized all the rungs of power.

The opposition has no chance.

You have successfully divided us.

You've managed to buy many of us.

If you want my opinion, Mr. President,

I think that being head of state

is about responsibility.

With power come obligations.

How can a child go missing in a hospital

and the government is unable to find him?

I'm really disappointed in my country.

At some point we have to say no, because as things are,

I don't see a future.

Things don't work. It must change.

If we lock ourselves in the upper spheres

we forget the people.

Mr. President,

when was the last time

that you met a simple man?

A man or a woman

who told you stories about their life?

Power.

I wonder if it's knowing something,

or having the ability to do it,

or having the strength and energy necessary to do it.

I wonder if it's something you have in your hands

and you say, 'Yes! I've got it.'

But in the African context, one can go even further.

What is power?

Is it the ability to decide between life and death,

or to decide who should live well and who shouldn't?

In Cameroon and most African countries

power has been reduced to dictatorship.

Voila. The ability to manipulate a people.

The ability to subdue a people.

The ability to trample a people.

To make them complicit in their own death.

Today, Africa is on that road.

Cameroon is still facing long years of agony.

Still, we should not lose sight of our power.

And that's it. The rest is a constant.

We know it's not going well.

We know we're hungry, poorly housed.

But we also have the power

to stop this.

Excuse me Presi, but I've got to talk to you.

They all speak in your name, But no one speaks in ours.

They don't defend your policies, they follow your program.

But it's you who decided to exclude us from it all.

I want to know, Presi, why it doesn't work for us.

I studied for years, but I haven't found a job.

Remember you promised we'd come out of the tunnel?

We're still in there and the same ones have the candle.

Look out on the sidewalk, those girls have no choice.

Not yet 16, selling their bodies, they don't have a choice.

It seems that school doesn't work, the boys just scratch their asses.

While your Ministers cruise town in their Prado SUVs.

Stop this, Presi. It's your job.

Or Insh'Allah, I swear, we'll find someone else.

The people can't any longer. The youth are fed up.

We want to taste the honey or we'll push you aside.

Stop this, Presi. It's your job.

Or Insh'Allah, I swear, we'll find someone else.

The people can't any longer. The youth are fed up.

We want to taste the honey or we'll push you aside.

Presi, your friends live like they're passing by.

They amass fortunes, like spoils of their raids.

They're pure arrogance. They frustrate the people.

They trample the rules. They do what they want.

And they want to turn you into their slave.

An outdated President.

Their only dream is to replace you.

Taking your place is their stated goal.

Presi, Cameroon is doing bad.

In spite of the peace, Cameroon's doing really bad.

Cameroon's the source of martyrs, and hunger, and many want to leave.

You're responsible for this.

It's up to you to help the people.

Whatever you do, don't get distracted.

Or else, like in February, the youth will explode.

Presi, the youth no longer dream.

Presi, Presi, the youth can't go on.

The majority are hanging in the void.

And as the world moves forward, we just stay in bed.

Presi, your friends don't love you.

And the truth is down deep, you don't love them.

They loot the funds and you don't care.

But when their faces change, you send out your thugs.

Come on, Presi, stop this.

Your system is weak and has too many flaws.

Flaws. We shouldn't say it twice.

Do your job. And your job is to stop all this.

Stop this, Presi. It's your job.

Or Insh'Allah, I swear, we'll find someone else.

The people can't any longer. The youth are fed up.

We want to taste the honey or we'll push you aside.

Stop this, Presi. It's your job.

He's ruled out our man.

But it's fine.

Moise.

Are you the one who is supposed to kill me?

At least tell me who paid you.

Give me the name of the person who paid you to execute me.

I don't need anyone for that, Aladji.

You've always treated me like a slave.

A slave?

Do you know any slaves with houses like yours?

You think I don't know about your trafficking?

And all the files you push?

Ah, Aladji...

You know too much.

Now I must kill you.

Dear viewer, I love my job.

You have no idea how much

your humble servant, Jo Wood'ou, loves his job.

Even as a soldier of truth,

I can't untangle the truth from lies!

But I swore before a camera, and before you!

I don't know by what miracle

our dear disappeared President now finds himself everywhere!

Your favorite channel has the largest network of informants,

made up of moto-taxi drivers

and call-boxers, our human telephone booths.

This network, which spans the entire country,

has cross-checked its information.

We can confirm that the President was seen in the market.

He was also seen on a motorcycle, and at the bus station.

Who's there?

It's me.

Who?

Me.

I wanted...

You must be exhausted.

Come.

What did you expect

when you used your appointment power to destroy the elites?

What did you think would happen

when you chased all the thinkers out of the country?

Now you want to think.

With whom?

We no longer think here.

You've got problems!

And your problems, my dear,

exist because you always flee from any work

that deals with with solving problems!

What were you thinking

when you used corruption and misery

to buy consciences and stay in power?

What kind of country did you think you would create

by manipulating the laws?

What future did you imagine for your country

when you sowed so much division?

Your job was to solve the problems.

Have a seat.

Have you eaten?

Just a sandwich.

A sandwich! You?

Yes.

I'll get you something.

Take off your Aladji hood.

No one would risk coming here to recognize you!

- Voila! - OK.

You've always had good cordon bleu, Jeanne.

Yeah?

But that didn't stop you from leaving me for someone else.

It was politics, you know.

Yes, I know.

I realized that I was just a child

who wouldn't live long enough to be a grand-parent.

All that's history, Jeanne.

It's all in the past, I know.

Don't worry.

I don't blame you, you know.

What's happening in the capital?

Why have you come?

I don't know anymore.

You're the only one I can talk to.

I got lost along the way.

I used to dream about this country.

But I feel that I've forgotten.

Everything around me...

...it's nothing but lies.

Schemes.

Why do you persist?

No one is forcing you to go back.

Can I ask you a question, Mr. President?

Why are you doing all of this?

The Office of the Presidency just confirmed

that it was indeed in this vehicle that the President

mysteriously left the Palace a few days ago.

Trusted sources have just confirmed

that the President was seen in Heaven

with his late wife.

It seems she was not very kind to him,

blaming him for the misery of millions of Cameroonians.

But Canal D is serious media.

We have begun an inquiry

into that seemingly contradictory information.

If it's true that the President

was never good to his people,

then why is he in Heaven?

We await the inquiry's findings here on the ground.

I'm Jo Wood'ou for Canal D. Stay tuned.

I just talked to the capo.

Things are moving at the Palace.

He says you shouldn't go to Congress.

Why not?

The capo didn't go into detail.

But it seems something's cooking.

According to him, some of your heirs can't wait.

They want to accelerate the movement.

Which means?

It means they've launched Operation Brutus.

They want to kill me.

A child told me he wanted to be the President...

...to be protected.

That is how we've raised our children.

It still smacks of a tribalism

that is passed from father to son.

Two days ago I took to the road

like a thief.

The mirror before me reflects an image,

an image that doesn't please me.

Something is broken.

But what?

Our country is living a historic moment,

42 years late.

If our President intentionally made poor appointments

in order to crush the competent,

Cameroonians now demand excellence.

If the President used disorder to better manage the people

Cameroonians now demand order.

If the President pitted the elites of villages against one another,

creating divisions to better rule,

Cameroonians shall now unite.

If the President is only concerned about satisfying the old,

now it's time to care about the youth.

If the President has wanted to tie down the brilliant,

it's time to set free the geniuses of Cameroon.

If the President believed Cameroon would develop thanks to his government

now we must realize that he built it to do exactly the opposite.

If the President treated our country as a cake to be cut and served,

Cameroon must now be like a plantation

that must increase production so that all may eat.

You are young, cousin, and you are strong.

Your future's in your hands. You're not dead.

Don't believe all they say. They are dead.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, brother.

You are young, cousin. Don't play dead.

Use the strength of youth that life has given you.

And if you fall, get back up and be stronger.

You're only young in your heart.

True force comes from your head, my brother.

It takes a mountain of strength. Go and exert it.

Liberate your energy, express yourself!

And you can break the chains of this infernal system.

And you can break the chains of this infernal system.

And you can break the chains of this infernal system.

Because you are young. And you are strong.

Yes, I am young. And I am strong.

My future is in my hands. I'm not dead.

I want to work hard to be among the best.

Whatever I do, we have to get out.

I am young. And I am strong.

Mr. President,

wherever you are, I know you are watching us.

I would like to let you know

that since I must succeed you

I must also destroy everything you have built.

You would agree with me

that the system I inherit today

has not provided the development we all dreamed of.

Who is to blame?

Let's not say the son must kill the father.

How can we help those who suffer

when they themselves cause harm?

What a strange country you've entrusted me with.

Ladies and gentlemen, my dear compatriots,

we must learn to practice politics

as it is done elsewhere

with the poor on one side

and the rich on the other.

Because it's all about

the distribution of wealth.

When we talk about a country's political strength,

we must rid ourselves

of political ideas

from a different era.

We women must learn to do what others do.

We must organize and change our situation

and stop relying on men and on God.

Our country will no longer take part

in practices that are only found here.

We shall no longer be an exception to humanity.

We shall be a normal country.

We all share

the same fundamental values.

If we all have the same mother and the same father,

this is not how they raised us.

I am warning you,

I shall not steal with you.

And worse,

I shall stop you from stealing.

I shall deliver you to the owners of embezzled goods

and you will repay every penny.

Because my brothers do not steal.

My dear compatriots,

let us identify false brothers.

Let us name them.

Let us fight them

and chase them away from our public affairs.

Let us use all legal means

to make them pay.

And we shall stop being martyrs on their behalf.

Let us stop being the brothers of such bad brothers.

I would now like to address

all those who say 'it's our turn now.'

Those who say it's their turn to eat.

When you say 'It's our turn to eat',

you accuse all those who served this country before you.

Not all took advantage of the state.

Many received fair wages for their work.

From them we have inherited this country.

We should pay homage to them.

And soon our streets shall bear their names.

To them I say,

a country is not a cake.

It is a plantation.

The more hands we have

the greater the harvest.

And everyone will have more to eat.

To all our cousins fighting for leadership,

I say, if revenge is to be had,

it is not against you, my brothers.

To all those who attack the diaspora,

I say no one deserves his nationality more than anyone else.

Even foreigners with the heart to work with us on our plantation

are welcome in our country.

Thank you.

Jo Wood'ou, your humble servant,

has just one word left.

Just one word?

One letter!

Tomorrow is another day. Another D!

Today it's on everyone's lips.

Once again it's up to Canal D

to invent the future

that was stolen from us 42 years ago.

But while waiting for that future,

it's time to sleep.

Your servant, Jo Wood'ou,

is off to dream. Another D.

You're on Canal D.

Stay tuned.

And I'm out!

When will it end? 1982-201?

Subtitles: Carrie Comer

Subtitles supported by Goethe-Institut