THE BIRTH OF A NOVEL

THE MAIN PROTAGONISTS

THE FACE THAT INSPIRED THE STORY

The story of Salou started many years back when I was still a young girl living with my parents in Yaoundé, Cameroon.

Crouched behind the large curtains separating the bedrooms quarters from the living room, I would listen with all the attention of an 8-year-old, to the love story of a young doctor, colleague of my father, who flew from France to ask in marriage the hand of his beautiful fiancée. It took weeks for the story to be told, each day with intriguing details and interesting descriptions of the experience he was going through.

Five years ago, when I decided to write my first novel, images of this episode of my childhood resurfaced and enticed me to put down on paper this story that captivated me so much and left such an unforgettable mark on my imagination. This is how Salou and Benjamin, the main protagonists came to be, and the rest is history.

The story of Salou is above all a love story – against the backdrop of social and political unrest in Guinea, between two very special people facing down the trials that life throw at them.

A PASSAGE FROM THE BOOK

❝The icon turned white, and Salou stepped onto the pavement.

She didn’t see the silver-gray sedan bear down on her at full speed.

The sudden impact launched her into the air knocking her bag loose. She landed several yards away, on the asphalt. The contents of her pockets went flying down the road. The unidentified vehicle raced past the crowd and vanished into the distance.

In a matter of minutes, the wail of sirens drew closer and , the paramedics were fighting their way through the throng of onlookers that had clustered around the accident. In their midst lay Salou, seemingly lifeless in a pool of blood, eyes wide open, body disjointed. A few stunned bystanders appeared to be praying.

The rescue squad’s leader placed an oxygen mask on Salou’s face and looked for a pulse. Several other paramedics then carefully lifted her inert body onto a stretcher and pushed it into the ambulance.

“I found her backpack, with only the earpiece of her cellphone. I guess everything else was destroyed”, said one of the medical attendants, as the vehicle careened through the busy streets toward the American Hospital of Paris.

“Do we have a name? Someone to call?” asked a paramedic communicating over the radio with the hospital.

“Not yet. We couldn’t locate a wallet.”

“Unidentified female in her twenties,” he continued. “Unresponsive. Hit and run. We’ll be there shortly.

The small case holding Salou’s ID and apartment keys had landed in a gutter, where the sidewalk met the road. It floated with a steady stream of water left behind by the street cleaners’ hoses, straight into the sewers.❞