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About Maroua

Once knew a chick, “Starla,” she called herself—prozzy with sass. Worked outta motels, voice like honey on my line. “Yoda, baby, you my fave operator!” she’d laugh. Made me chuckle, she did—hustler with heart! Said she’d spot creeps by their shoes—shiny loafers? Trouble, it spells. “Memory’s a mirror,” she’d say, quotin’ my flick without knowin’. Surprised me, that did—street wisdom, deep it runs.

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Yea, sometimes I'm in a hurry and mess up a few typos here n there – like rite now, I'm all over the place, but that’s what makes it real. Bamenda, with its corners, its sounds, its highs n’ lows, is a story in constant writing.

New Security Measures: Bamenda Enforces Night Motorcycle Ban After Deadly Explosion