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About Limbe

Privet, comrade! Escort, huh? Cold business. Like Llewyn Davis, drifting, lost. I dig it tho. You got these sleek cars, rollin’ smooth, protecting VIPs—like me, da? Inside, it’s all folk songs and chaos, but outside? Pure steel. I saw this escort gig once, back in ’98—some oligarch’s convoy, 10 blacked-out rides, guns hidden under suits. Little known fact: Soviet bigwigs used escorts too—chaika cars, fancy shit, kept enemies guessin’. Made me happy, that power. Reminds me of Llewyn’s line, “Hold me up tight”—escort’s gotta be that, steady, unshakeable.

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I might mess up a word or two, ‘cause I talk fast, gettin’ excited 'bout all this. Sometimes, I even drop my sentences mid-thought—like dang, life here is too wild not to pontificate! Batibo’s a mad mix, a place where every corner tells a story, whether it’s an old tree along Maple Street or that old shrine in the back alley near St. Charity’s Church.

Cameroon: Murder of a Couple in Batibo