Solidarity project against child poverty

Congo /



The way out of Soyo town was on board of one of those little ilegal boats that some people use very often to cross borders ilegally looking for better lifes, eventhough they know that is very often a nightmare,Wraped among dusty cement sacs and my bones and my teeth playing tam tam, because of the cold i could see not far into the deep waters, the fires that the petrol companies spit wile they suck the deepest part of the earth to still the precious black gold .

This was my way to Cabinda, it last the hole night and it was enaughf for me to understand, how much they should suffer all those people that risk their lives to cross from Afrika to Spain, or from Cuba to the USA, for a better future that usually finish in a mad dream for them.

.We arrived to Cabinda when the sun played with the night, when the colors are lazy to change, and in a little dirty place somewhere far from the authorities we landed like forzen animals in Cabinda Land, Cabinda desires to be a part from Angola, in the west people fight hevilly, but in the city all realities are maked with pretty buildings, clean streets and really disgusting plastic palm trees.

But for me nothing of this bothered me much,because my mind was already in another new country , and the sensation that i has was that Angola become a memory, i had thoughts for the killed boy, nice memories for those angolan families that hosted me like one more of them, smiles to those that make me believe in this, and of course the sadness to know that i leave them again.

But i guess this is how Gambada is, always looking forward with out forgeting those moments that makes me fly throug nice memories, but a strong noise awaked me up of my dreams, y that was the stamp on my passport that a huge mama with ridicoulus red lips talled me, welcome to Congo mu SON.

A border is always a very strange place in Afrika, this imaginary line tells you that you are in another country, previous expensive payment of course!!, but this doesnt makes you feel it, the flavour of the mandioca driying on the sun, the shout of the kids telling you mundele, mundele (this is how they call us here), are the real thing to realise that you cross ne border.

in Congo kids and more kids , to many as always, run next to you, sharing with their wide open mouth full of white theeth their hapinness, they are so excited to run next to the mundele till the point sometimes i have almost kiss the ground.

Loud , extremlly loud music bombard every corner of this country, the lovelly scenes of the girls making their thick hair among laughfs, the colors of their lovelly dresses fill my solitude sometimes.

In this part of Congo, petrol and wood are the main resources, paradoxlly owned by foraign companies, all this happen in the (mayombe), the jungle in their language,the mayombe is extremlly humid, has terrible bad dirt roads that play with my temper, but when the night comes and i am sharing lovelly moments with lovelly humble families, all those dificult moments are only memories,and listening them talking abaut legendes, abaut their problems is one of the best gifts.

Some people just accept to survive here, but some they canot accept that this country after 50 years of independence, still doesnt have a decent road to cross the country, and they have memories of those days when the train was a lovelly adventure, and today,s just a nightmare, where doing 180km can take more than 24hours of time, all this into a dirty and broken wood box with out chairs and full of huge rats making you company.

Yes Congo is still far from their desires, and me i will stay with the flavour of the mandioca, with those colors and the wish to find some place in his country to do a donation,my thoughts make me company with the reward of this lovelly humain warm that this country give to me , so far; it does it with out looking at all my skyn colour.

So, thanks Congo, eventhough this loud music breacks my ears , and doesnt let me sleep, and with this hungover the poor goes back to their miseries.

Into a illegal dirty boat, many dreams breaking the waves.



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