Dave is a young African man, living in Cameroon, but determined to immigrate to a country with greener pastures. Until he arrives in China and meets Araisha, a beautiful Eastern woman who's family had buried a frightening past... a past that will definitely catch up with Dave, if his dreams do come true...www.yungsibooks.com

I walked into the Recto night club that night, my mind clouded with a blanket of doubt and hesitation, like Hamlet, after meeting his father’s ghost. Dockie’s offer, which had sounded so tempting to me earlier, was causing me a lot of misgivings now. My doubts were triggered by a short talk I had with Henry three hours before I went to the Club. Henry was my university classmate who could have been mistaken for my conscience had he been invisible. He was always giving me advice on how to live or how not to. After I told him about my unsuccessful visa interview that afternoon and went on to mention the part where I met Dockie, Henry became very excited. “Look Dave, I have been investigating Dockie for some time now. I am writing a feature about con men in Yaoundé. He is going to land you into trouble. Don’t do it,” he said. “That’s easy for you to say. You have a job with your uncle’s newspaper,” I answered. “Yes, but didn’t you also attend the same job interview?” “Yes, and I was turned down,” I said. “Well, it wasn’t my fault.” “But your uncle owns the newspaper. At least, you could have put in a good word for me, Henry.” “Listen Dave, I know many people think I got the job because of my uncle’s influence but they are all wrong,” Henry said. “Anyway, that still doesn’t change the fact that I was denied a visa today and that I need to review my plans if I want to get a visa next time.” “Yes, but Dockie is not someone you want to associate with,” Henry said. “Why not?” Henry told me more about Dockie. His real name was Jacob and he was only called Dockie because of his reputation for making fake documents. If anyone wanted anything, from birth certificates, marriage certificates to death certificates done, Dockie was the man to meet. He had been arrested by the police many times, but he always found a way to bribe his way out of jail and get them to drop the charges. Dockie owned a registered and licensed N.G.O. (Non-Governmental Organization) that had a name so vague it could back up different kinds of national and international scams, but his real money came from sending people abroad on Conferences and Seminars. Dockie had stolen a lot of money from his father a long time ago with the intention of traveling to America to seek his fortune. However, by some cruel trick of fate, he ended up in Russia. Whatever he did there, no one knew, but one day his father received a picture in the mail which showed his son sitting in a street covered with snow, wearing tattered clothes and brandishing a large sign that said “SOS.” Dockie’s father, who was not completely devoid of humor, took a picture of himself behind the wheel of his new BMW car, brandishing a sign that said “You haven’t seen anything yet,” and mailed it back to his son. How Dockie ever managed to come back home is another long story which time and space cannot permit me to narrate here but I learnt that he is still wanted by the Russian police, and by a couple of families for knocking up their daughters and vanishing into thin air. “I am sure that he wants to include you in one of his scams,” Henry said, breathing heavily. “I saw one of the guys who got a visa through him with my own eyes, today.” “What makes you so sure about this?” Henry asked, looking straight into my eyes. “What do you mean?” “Sometimes some con men use a friend to convince their victims. Don’t you remember that man with the three- cards- trick in Buea?” Of course I remembered him. He was a man who used to hang around the university with a table and a box of cards, trying to lure students into believing that he could double or even triple their money. All they needed to do was pick out a black card from among a set of three cards turned upside down. Most of the students who lost their money to him later on swore that they were tempted to try this game because they saw other people win several times. Unknown to them, these winners were always paid accomplices of the card dealer. “Henry, do you think I am that stupid?” I asked. “No, I just want you to be…” I lost my patience and told Henry to mind his own business. Before he could speak, I walked out of the newsroom very fast and didn’t look back. Dockie spotted me as soon as I entered the night club and called out my name loudly. I went over to where he was seated, in the back seats usually reserved for VIPs and celebrities (if any ever dared to come).There were four other men seated at the same table and each of them had a half- naked girl on his lap. The girls were wriggling and twisting like worms in a can of stale beef, probably, deliberate attempts to excite the men. Dockie seemed to have a lot of influence on his friends. Before, after or whenever any of them said anything, they looked at Dockie as if seeking his approval. If Dockie laughed, they also laughed. If he chuckled, they chuckled too, and when he frowned they all followed suit. Watching them was like watching a monkey trainer and his monkeys. I stood there, inspecting them for about five minutes before Dockie decided to do something. He clapped his hands twice. Immediately, his friends and their girls got up and walked away slowly, the men smiling like sheep while the girls giggled drunkenly. They took another table that wasn’t very far from Dockie’s and then resumed whatever it was they had been doing before I interrupted. “Hey Dave, I am glad you came. Here, have a drink.” I really needed something strong at that moment. Henry’s words were still ringing in my ears. The scotch and ice which Dockie poured into a glass for me was cold but I could have sworn that it seemed like a warm soothing spring after a bitter, long and cold winter. We clinked glasses and drank the contents to the last drop. Then he poured another round and we sipped slowly. “So are you ready to talk business or do you want to enjoy some of these fine honeys here first?” Dockie waved his right hand at the girls and gave me a leering smile. “I am ready to talk. What is it we are going to do exactly, and how much is it going to cost me?” Dockie laughed and patted me on the shoulder. “You sure like to get straight to the point, don’t you? I admire people like you. I am tired of assholes that will stab me the moment my back is turned, but will praise and flatter me, in my face.” He nodded in the direction of his friends. I laughed and Dockie chuckled. Dockie’s friends all burst out laughing, waving their hands at him. Dockie frowned at them and they all frowned at each other. He scoffed and turned back to me. “I want to be sure that there is nothing illegal about what we are going to do,” I said. “Look Dave, my organization is legit, registered and I pay all my taxes. The only thing I exploit is the white man’s love for proof.” “What do you mean?” I asked. Dockie laughed. “If you tell the Consular Officer that you are married, he will not believe you even if you are. However, show him a marriage certificate even if its fake and he will call you “Mr. and Mrs.” It happens like this all the time. Those guys want you to produce documents proving every little word that comes out of your mouth to the point that even if you tell them that you are bald and provide them with a “certificate of baldness,” they will believe you, despite the fact that you have an afro on your head as big as a lion’s mane.” He paused and laughed. I couldn’t help laughing too. His friends noticed us laughing and guffawed in response. Dockie didn’t even look at them this time. “That is what I exploit. So, are you ready to work with me, Dave?” I looked at Dockie. What he was saying definitely made sense, but Henry’s words still haunted my conscience. “I think I need some time to think about this,” I answered, avoiding his eyes. “Take all the time you need, and to prove to you how successful this project can turn out, I will like you to come over and meet me tomorrow at Bonamoussadi, where I can show you exactly what I do. If after that you

Yungsi Ernest Kiyah is a writer, journalist and teacher who won two prizes in the BBC Network Africa Short Story Competition with his stories “First Visit” and “Nature's call,” respectively.He presently teaches English as a Second Language (ESL)in China.

“To Immigrate or to Live Happily ever After” is set in two countries, one where the author was born and the other where he presently lives.

A holder of a Bachelor of Science Degree in Journalism and Mass Communication and a Minor in Sociology and Anthropology from the Anglo-Saxon University of Buea, Yungsi Ernest Kiyah blends journalistic style with an in-depth understanding of social phenomena to create a story that makes you want to know what will happen next, every single step of the way.

Born in Cameroon, the author runs a website on which he publishes short stories and poems at www.yungsibooks.com.