“What are those on your arms? Are those mosquito bites?” A young Gambian man is pointing at the birth marks that cover my body. I explain to him that I have very locally what he has all over his skin, pigmentation. It will not be the last time that people ask about the funny spots on my arms. I am doing the laundry in a Gambian campsite as an employee starts talking to me. She does not speak much English, because she is from Senegal. She works in the campsite and lives here with her youngest child. The older ones are in Senegal. This is very hard for her, she tells me. I ask her how old her children are. She stares at me and looks as if she does not understand my question. “I forgot”, she answers after thinking for a little while. A worm that has nicely settled in my shoe in Belgium and is smashed by my foot for two days before discovery, is definitely less bad than a rat in a Guinean mission which is drinking from my nice Swedish cup. Everything is relative. “Your government pays you while you are travelling”, according to a young man in Guinea-Conakry. Shoot, why did nobody tell me that the Dutch government does that? Here in Africa everybody knows. We are having breakfast in the dining room of the catholic mission in Conakry as we see demonstrations happening on television, in Nepal against the Olympic Games in China. Antoine gets up to look closely. A man tells him: “It’s in Japan. There is a game there and they don’t want it to happen.”
Archive for April, 2008
I have a hard time with myself. I tend to be very critical. When you do something, do it properly and most importantly, do it efficiently. This makes life hard for the people around me and for myself as well. For years now I have been aware of this part of my character and I try hard to let go of it. Being in Africa gives me double feelings about the subject though.
Continue reading ‘The African way’
While travelling you do not just discover the world. Even more, you discover yourself. How could I ever have imagined what life is like without electricity or running water? With no telephone communication available or jam or even a loaf of bread for sale?
Continue reading ‘How a horsefly can ruin a day (or two… or three)’
It seems like such a long time ago that we boarded ship and crossed from Tarifa to Tanger, Spain to northern Africa. Perhaps it was not so long ago, but the cultural gulf that we have crossed makes the days of remembering the Rafaelo seem like ages ago. First northern Africa, then enterning the third world via Mauritania and finaly and most colorfuly, into black Africa.
Onderstaande e-mail stuurden we vanuit Labe naar huis. Voor de nederlandstaligen onder ons geeft het een beetje een indruk van hoe we ons voelden in de jungle. Overigens gaat het nu, twee weken later, veel beter met ons. En ondanks alle moeilijke omstandigheden moet een ding gezegd: de mensen hier in Guinee zijn echt heel erg aardig. In de hoofdstad misschien een beetje typisch, maar dat is in elke grote stad. Wanneer we door de dorpjes fietsen springen de vrouwen op van hun stoel -of liever gezegd boomstronk- en juichen ze ons toe alsof we een koninklijk paar zijn. Kinderen hossen langs de kant van de weg en worden helemaal gek van enthousiasme. Daar moeten we wel om lachen.
