#ᴊᴜɴᴇᴅᴜᴍᴘ 2025 | Ngumabi
I’ve moved several times within Yaoundé in the past few years. Some moves were for healing, others were for peace, others were out of necessity. But each time, I’ve learned something new about the apartment hunt in this city—and today I want to share those lessons with you.
Here’s what to consider, avoid, and stay aware of when apartment hunting in Yaoundé:
Before even stepping into any apartment, ask yourself what you want your life to look like—not just your living room.
Think about:
Proximity to work or school
Access to the main road or transportation
Availability of essential services like water, electricity, hospitals, markets, and shops
Calmness vs. activity (do you love quiet or prefer some daily buzz?)
Every neighbourhood in Yaoundé has its own energy and level of development. Some are very residential and calm; others are lively but noisy. Some areas are great for access but prone to issues like flooding or blackouts. Know what matters to you first.
When you’re house-hunting, you won’t always get everything you want, but knowing your priorities helps you avoid disappointment or discomfort later.
Some examples to reflect on:
Do you want a spacious kitchen because you cook a lot and own many utensils?
Is natural light important to you?
Do you want a balcony or outside space?
Can you compromise on a smaller bedroom if the living room is big enough?
Do you prefer modern fittings?
Having a clear list of what you must have vs. what you can manage without will help you make better and quick decisions, especially when under pressure.
This one might sound a little contradictory, but it’s real. Yaoundé is a mix of old and new construction styles. Older neighborhoods often have buildings that were built decades ago, with older standards in terms of layout, finishes, or aesthetics.
In newer or upcoming neighbourhoods—usually on the outskirts—you’ll find more modern features like:
Spacious kitchens and bathrooms
Bigger windows
Better tiles and paintwork
Improved room configurations
However, these places may be farther from the city center, more expensive, or less developed in terms of access roads and public services. And if you find a modern house in an older neighbourhood, it often comes with a higher price tag.
Moral of the story: Stay open-minded, flexible, and ready to compromise on the less essential things.
One of the most underrated yet important aspects of house hunting in Yaoundé is evaluating the environment surrounding the apartment, not just the building.
Here’s what to look out for:
Flood risk: Yaoundé is a hilly city. Areas near valleys are more prone to floods. Avoid houses in low-lying zones, especially during rainy seasons.
Electricity & water reliability: Some areas experience more power cuts, others have more water shortages. Ask the neighbours what’s common.
Noise & security: Visit during the day and in the evening. Some areas are quiet by day but noisy at night due to nearby bars or clubs.
Safety: Avoid suspicious areas or compounds. Check if the neighbourhood has a security presence (some areas near top officials’ homes are better protected).
And if you can, walk around the neighbourhood. Observe the people, the traffic, and the atmosphere. Can you see yourself living there? Do you feel at peace?
Some things I’ve learned the hard way:
Uncompleted buildings may have construction issues like water leaking into the walls, which leads to mold and dampness (and even health problems).
Buildings that look good at first glance may still have structural or plumbing issues. Inspect carefully—especially during rainy season.
If the landlord lives in the same compound, get as much information as you can. If they’re the “monitor everything you do” type, life may get uncomfortable.
Talk to tenants if you can. Ask questions like:
How often do they fix things?
How are electricity and water bills partitioned? Are there individual meters?
What’s the landlord like?
Do they increase rent suddenly?
Also, read your contract carefully and ask for clarification if something doesn’t sit right with you.
Your new home should not feel like a trap or an isolated island, except you have a car for easy transportation.
Basic services you should look for nearby:
Provision store (for bread, sugar, milk, toilet paper, oil, etc.)
Pharmacy or clinic
Market or food stalls (even small ones)
Transport options (bike, taxi, junctions)
If your house is inside an interior zone where you need to take a bike or walk a distance to the main road, and it’s a quiet or isolated area, I strongly recommend this:
Get the contact of a trustworthy bike rider or taxi driver who works around your neighbourhood. Call them when transport is scarce, or when you need to get out early/late. It makes it easy for you to go out and come in easily and faster when you don't get a bike/taxi at the time you are going out or coming in.
The more I move, the more I learn. I’ve learned to be realistic. I’ve learned not to rush when I have time. And I’ve also learned that sometimes, no matter how much you plan, the right apartment only shows up when it’s time.
So give yourself grace. Don’t feel pressured to find “the perfect place.” Focus on finding a safe, livable, and peaceful environment that matches your needs as best as possible.
House hunting in Yaoundé isn’t always easy, but with the right mindset, preparation, and awareness, you can avoid many of the common pitfalls. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, walk around, or even say no if something feels off.
And most importantly, remember that your home should give you peace. That’s worth waiting for and searching for, except you don't have much time to find the best place.
I recently moved out of the apartment I had stayed in for two years. It was a sudden move, but also one I had quietly been expecting. Not necessarily because I was ready, but because I knew, deep down, that the time would come.
And it came faster than I thought.
This wasn’t my first time moving. I’ve moved quite a bit in the past few years, and honestly, I usually prefer to stay in a home for at least five years before changing. I like stability, peace, and knowing I can settle in fully. But life doesn’t always give us ideal situations. Sometimes you have to move before you’re fully ready, and that was the case with this apartment, just like the one before it.
The difference is this: this last apartment wasn’t just a place I stayed. It was the place that held me while I healed.
I moved into that apartment after leaving a toxic relationship. I didn’t have the luxury of time or too many choices. I just needed a place—quickly. And somehow, God made a way.
That apartment wasn’t perfect. It was too close to the road, it got noisy, and over time, water started getting into the walls. But it gave me what I needed at that time: safety, privacy, and space to start over.
Those walls witnessed some of my lowest moments. They heard the silent tears, the angry phone calls, the painful regrets, the confusing numbness, and the heavy loneliness that followed my decision to leave. But they also saw my strength build up, day by day. They saw me find myself again. They saw me slowly walk out of fear, shame, and guilt, and into courage, boldness, and peace.
They saw me laugh again. Dream again. Believe again.
So yes, even though the apartment had become physically uncomfortable to live in—the mold, the water, the noise—emotionally, it was hard to leave. Because that house had been part of my healing. That space held a version of me I had fought so hard to rebuild.
And moving out felt like closing the chapter on a very personal season of my life.
If you’re about to move out of a space that has been with you through tough, defining seasons, here are a few things I’ve learned through experience:
It’s okay to feel sad or heavy, even when you know it’s time to move. Just because you’re leaving doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful. Take a moment to acknowledge what that place gave you.
Say thank you to the walls, the rooms, the quiet, the chaos, the view, the comfort. Thank it for what it carried you through. Gratitude helps you to leave in peace.
You’re not just moving from a building. You’re moving from memories. From growth. From pain. From healing. Let yourself feel it.
It’s okay to cry while packing. To sit on the floor and remember. To walk through each room and whisper goodbye. Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting—it means honoring what was and allowing space for what’s next.
Some spaces are meant for certain seasons. They serve their purpose and prepare you for what’s next. But when that season shifts, the space may no longer match the version of you that’s emerging.
That’s how I knew it was time. The moldy walls, the road noise, the restless sleep—it no longer aligned with the peace I now carried inside. The space had become too small for the woman I was becoming.
Instead of only seeing the move as a loss, try to see it as a symbol. A symbol that you’ve grown. That you’re moving forward. That you’re not the same version of yourself who moved in.
You’re stronger now. Wiser. More in tune with what you need and what you no longer want to tolerate. Your move is a reflection of that.
Before leaving, I stood quietly in that apartment. I didn’t rush. I let the silence speak. I remembered where I had come from. I felt the weight of everything I had survived.
I said goodbye, not just to the walls, but to the version of myself who had once lived there—the hurt girl, the scared girl, the one who cried and doubted and fought. I honored her.
Then I walked out with confidence. Because she brought me this far.
It’s about closing one chapter and opening another. It’s about being brave enough to walk away from what no longer fits you, even if it once saved you. And it’s about trusting that what’s ahead will be even better.
If you’re standing on the edge of a move like this—emotional, sudden, maybe even overwhelming—I want you to know: it’s okay to feel everything. But also know you’re moving forward. You’re not who you were when you moved in. And that, in itself, is something to be proud of.
You deserve a space that reflects your peace, your growth, and the future you’re stepping into.
Let go with love. Move forward with grace.
As a result, I didn't see myself moving this year. But the discomfort in that apartment increased more than ever before a few days before I left.
In fact, at the beginning of May, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. But just a few weeks later, I found myself packing up boxes, cleaning out rooms, and stepping into a new apartment—and a new season of life.
I may have desired to move because I didn't intend to stay there for long but I ended up leaving because the discomfort had built up for a while and I couldn't manage the situation anymore.
The signs had been building up quietly but like many of us, I tried to manage, cope, and adjust. Until I couldn’t anymore. In this post, I want to share what led me to finally make the decision to move, and some signs that might help you know when it’s time to do the same.
The apartment I just moved out of wasn’t bad. It was generally good, I loved the colours of the paint on the walls which were painted mostly white and a touch of peach and green. it had two toilets of good sizes. The kitchen was small but not that bad and it had a balcony as well. It being close to the road made it close to the shops where I could buy things easily even at late hours. It actually came into my life at a very critical moment, right after I left a toxic relationship. I didn’t have much time or many options back then, so when I found it, I was relieved and grateful. It gave me peace and privacy when I needed it the most.
But from the very beginning, there were things I wasn’t fully comfortable with. The location, for one, it was too close to a noisy main road. And while I love lively areas, this one wasn’t quite the residential kind of “lively” I enjoy. Over time, the noise got tiring.
I also started noticing the walls were damp, especially when it rained. The building wasn’t fully finished, and water started seeping in. I didn’t realise how much it affected me until I started dreading the rainy season. That’s not how home should feel.
There were times I found myself justifying the problems:
“Oh, it's not that bad.”
“At least there'll be no problem during the dry season.”
But deep down, I knew I wasn’t at ease. I knew I was forcing comfort in a space that was slowly becoming unhealthy, physically and mentally. Mold started to grow. The air felt damp. The house was colder. worried about opened windows when it rained because more water was getting in. It was exhausting.
If you find yourself constantly making excuses for where you live, it might be time to really ask, "Do I still feel good here?"
Some places are meant for a season. That apartment helped me heal, regain stability, and restart my life after a difficult relationship. But once that season passed, I started feeling stuck. I outgrew the space.
Home should support your growth. It should feel like a safe space, not a place you’re tolerating. If your environment is no longer helping you thrive or reflect who you’re becoming, that’s another sign it may be time to move on.
Before I even made the decision to move, I noticed I felt drained at home. Tired. Heavy. Like I couldn’t fully relax. The wet walls, the noise, the lack of privacy with shops in the compound—it all started weighing on me.
Sometimes, your body speaks before your mind fully catches up. Pay attention to how you feel in your space. Do you feel at peace? Energized? Or do you feel stressed and restless? Those feelings matter.
When I finally accepted that I needed to move, everything happened quickly. It was already mid-May when I seriously started looking, and by the end of the month, I was in my new place. I thank God because it all came together after the few days of stress while preparing for this move.
Even while filming this cleaning video for my YouTube channel, I didn’t know it was part of preparing me for the move. Sometimes, God nudges us softly through our actions before we realise what’s happening. If a door opens and it feels right—even if it’s fast—don’t be afraid to walk through it.
Now that I’m in my new apartment, the difference is clear. It’s quieter. I have more privacy. I wake up to birds singing, not cars honking. The view is calming, and I feel a sense of peace I didn’t realize I had been missing. This is what home should feel like.
Here are a few questions to ask yourself:
Am I still comfortable in this space, or just coping?
Do I feel safe and relaxed in my home?
Is my living space affecting my health, physically or emotionally?
Am I making excuses to stay, even though I know it’s time to go?
If I could move today, would I?
Moving isn’t always easy. It comes with stress, uncertainty, and expense. But sometimes, it’s the most necessary step you can take for your well-being.
You deserve a home that supports your peace, growth, and healing, not just one that “will do for now.”
When I moved into my last apartment two years ago, it was more than just a place to stay—it was my refuge. I had just walked away from a toxic relationship, and I needed somewhere safe and available quickly. That apartment came through for me when I had little time, limited options, and a mind that needed healing. For that, I’ll always be grateful.
At the time, I told myself I’d stay there for a year and then find a better space. But life happened, and a year became two.
While the apartment served me well emotionally, physically, it came with its challenges. Its location—close to a busy road—meant constant noise, and the building itself wasn’t fully completed. Over time, water began seeping into the walls, especially during the rainy season. Mold became a serious issue, and I knew it would only get worse.
At the start of May, I had no plans to move. But by mid-May, I was actively looking for a new place. The realization hit me hard—there was no way I could spend another rainy season dealing with wet walls and mold. I prayed, searched, and thankfully, things fell into place much faster than I expected.
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| My new view |
Like most moves, this one was stressful. Sorting, packing, cleaning—it’s a whole workout. But I’m incredibly thankful for the helpful hands that made it easier. Though I paid for the help, I felt truly supported. These kinds of transitions are never solo efforts, and I’m glad I wasn’t alone.
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| Living room view |
I absolutely love the new place. It’s quieter, calmer, and far enough from the road that I can actually hear birds sing in the morning. The view is beautiful, and the privacy is unmatched—no shops in the compound this time, just peace.
Funny enough, while recording a YouTube video of myself cleaning the kitchen (still thinking it was just my usual cleaning day), I had no idea it was actually part of the moving process. Looking back, I realize even that was a subconscious preparation for change.
I’m grateful for how everything turned out. Even though the move came unexpectedly, I know it was the right decision. This apartment feels like the next chapter, one I’m excited to live in, grow in, and create beautiful memories in.
I'll be sharing more about moving in Yaoundé in the coming days, so stay tuned for more.
#ᴍᴀʏᴅᴜᴍᴘ
Happy month of June ❤️
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| 1. My room had a little makeover - giving Pinterest vibes |
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| 2. Changed the position of my dining table to a position I appreciate better but never tried because I felt it won't work. |
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3. Took drinking water seriously |
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| 4. Baked my best banana cake yet (as seen on YouTube @NgumAbi) |
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| 11. Loving the configuration of the new living room |
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| 12. New plant leaves |
As someone who works from home, it’s all too easy to blur the lines between work and rest. I used to keep going even on weekends—emails, projects, strategy—but recently, I’ve been learning to pause. To intentionally choose rest.
So I gave myself permission to have a slow, no-work Saturday.
The morning started as quietly as I hoped. I made up the bed and took a deep breath, grateful for a peaceful home and the soft rhythm of a day with no pressure.
Before heading to the kitchen, I checked in on my plants—something that always brings me joy. I noticed their new leaves had grown some more. Little things like that feel like magic when you're paying attention.
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Now, let’s talk about the highlight of my day—my banana cake.
Baking has become one of my favourite weekend hobbies. It’s simple, grounding, and deeply comforting. There’s something about mixing ingredients, pouring them into a tin, and watching it all rise into something warm and delicious that makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.
And this time? The cake came out perfect.
Fluffy, golden brown, and proud—no sinking, no cracking. I felt so proud watching it sit beautifully in the pan. I did a little happy dance inside.
Because I’m doing intermittent fasting, I had to drink some water and hold off before cutting it. But oh, it was worth the wait. I sliced it, served some to my kids, and tucked the rest away for my first meal of the day.
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| 😋😋😋 |
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| Took drinking water very seriously during intermittent fasting |
After baking, I did some organising in my room and gave myself a bit of pampering.
I did a mini spa bath with my body scrub and sea salt, then treated my face with Sivoderm pomade - my current go-to for that soft glow. These little rituals are a reminder that rest isn’t just about sleep, it’s about treating yourself with care.
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| View before organizing and cleaning this side of my room |
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| After |
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| It all started with a desire to clean just my shoe rack, then I reorganised the whole side of the room |
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| I used Sivoderm pomade to treat my face after all the organising. The review of this product is still up on the blog here (click here) |
To end the day, I curled up to watch a Nollywood movie on YouTube and finally broke my fast with a generous slice of that banana cake.
It was the kind of day that reminded me how much joy there is in simplicity. In baking without pressure. In letting a Saturday be soft, slow, and sweet.
Let this be your reminder that you deserve rest too. That soft hustle is valid. That slow day still count.
Hi, I’m Ngumabi.
MLA blog is a lifestyle and personal growth blog for women (especially in their 30s) who are healing, rebuilding, and redefining their lives through honest lifestyle storytelling, practical self-growth content, and gentle inspiration so they can heal, reset, and rise with joy, purpose, and softness.
Here, I share honest bits of everyday life — fun, motherhood, work from home, and the gentle process of growing forward.
Documenting the lifestyle and life lessons of a thirties babe who has overcome and is living again.
To read more about me click here.
FRCoucou, moi c’est Ngumabi. MLA Blog est un blog de développement personnel et de lifestyle destiné aux femmes — en particulier celles dans la trentaine qui sont en train de guérir, de se reconstruire et de redéfinir leur vie à travers des récits authentiques, du contenu pratique sur la croissance personnelle et une inspiration douce, afin qu’elles puissent guérir, se réinventer et s’élever avec joie, intention et douceur.
Sur ce blog, je partage ma vie de tous les jours : un peu de fun, la maternité, mon travail, et ce chemin lent mais beau vers une vie qui me ressemble.
Cest la vie et les leçons de vie d’une trentenaire qui a choisit de revivre pleinement.
Pour lire plus sur moi cliquez ici.
And follow me on social media for more content.
My favourite quotes:
"By doing what you love, you inspire the hearts of others."
"Make your life a dream and a dream a reality."
#ᴊᴜɴᴇᴅᴜᴍᴘ 2025 | Ngumabi #ᴊᴜɴᴇᴅᴜᴍᴘ 1. My plant is having a baby 2. My plants are potted and watered 3. The First Banana cake I baked in my...
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