Best Clash Day Outfit

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

When just one year, we take stock of gains and losses and we are amazed at how quickly it has passed year and the amount of things we've experienced. We also count the good, the bad, comparing each year ... and it's sad, because in the end, many Sometimes we just look at the things we have done well.

And so, on a date so designated, here are all my excuses to 2009. I thought it was a horrible year and now with my balance, things did not add up.

When finished in 2009, I was glad. And I was glad because she left me exhausted, exhausted and sad. Left me exhausted, emotional bumps, the depths professionals, emotional wreck ... I dismissed with solemnity, jubilee and commemoration to 2009 because he considered it a bad year. I accused him with shouts and jeers of my failed relationship status, because I let alone dancing, when my gentleman suddenly disappeared from my arms. I blame between bellowing and crying because I left with debts, emotional debts, but debts to the end of the day. I was angry because it took a lot of people that I wanted, I removed from my life off some friends who could have been plethoric. He took them all, all those friendships. And I have still so new that could put names, faces and places ... I shouted to 2009 because I left wanting to flee, leaving everything, leaving, to get away ... I dismissed

2009 with a ceremony with the same exultation that if the dance of the fire in question. And I spent the first days of 2010, happily sniffing to see if he could see it in the air all the good things that fate I reserved. Like those years I still remember with a smile. Now I realize that's not the years, but us. The blame for our ills, we live has the maturity and responsibility that every year add up.

And just like in the continuity of my concerns, the 2010 was the continuation of 2009. Consecutive years and not leap but just looking and square. I was very disappointed when I saw that 2010 was just a year. My thousand new proposals, they were in new proposals. My thousand wishes stayed desires. I expected things, changes, personal rush ... But it was only in 2010 that continues to 2009. Followed loss as always, but with one more year. I kept feeling like always, and I was on the eve of another year, just as in 2009, trying to digest the darkness that loomed over my moons.
Year of tsunamis, hurricanes and I tiles on a side to side. Year of trivia that keep us from our daily lot. 2010, year of drought, years of frustration, of embarrassment, heartbreak and of blandness, years of discussions, a high degree of nervousness and self-incrimination. Year ominous dismal year. Yes! Also I hated 2010.

And so I present my excuses to 2009. And I'm not expecting anything in 2011. Say that:

Satisfaction Rating = Level of Need - Grade Expectations.

The higher is the level of expectations, the lower the satisfaction that are inversely bundled. For this I have very low expectations for this 2011. I do not expect any miracles. I do not expect anything. I do not want to order anything. I do not want any purpose, nothing. Let me see if I can serve, because I know that in fever the night of 31, one begins to desire great things, without restraint, without realizing the expectations start to rise also in turn are bundled with champagne glasses .

just want a new year, give me what I need and does not depend on my expectations.

I could wish many things but I just wish the new year give you what you need ... Everything.

HAPPY 2011!

http://yaivi.blogspot.com/

Fake Id In London Ontario

IMMIGRANT AND ABROAD. Homo homini

Once, a taxi driver, entrusted to seek out a group of foreigners, including which I, for one event at a TV channel. We stayed in a central location in the city where there were tourists from around the world, people of all kinds. A point well known to stay.

The group was made by a friend of mine from India, a Pakistani boy, an African ... We waited a long time, but it appeared the driver. Women of production, the channel in question, he kept calling us to give our exact location, because the poor taxi driver was going around and we found ... But given the location that would give the taxi driver did not see us. We were in the same place as him, but not see us. We put in a highly visible and nothing. Until the end, gave to us your description and saw him right away. When we said we were, looked puzzled and said "I had seen you before but I said it was a group of" foreigners. " "

He went to all the groups of French, Germans and others and asked them " Is it you ...? " and told him no. It did not occur close to us. For him, as for many people, a people group with African or Indian or Pakistani was a group of immigrants, not foreigners.

In social reality, the labels for the changing of the country are split in two. The "immigrant" and "foreign." The immigrant is a foreigner who comes to stay. Every immigrant is a foreigner but not all foreigners are immigrants.
But is a French immigrant who comes to live in Spain? Is it a Guinean foreign tourist who is in Germany? Not really. In fact the social reality has made its own definition of these terms as simple and reduced to the personal status of each. The terms are awarded based on place of origin, which varies from country. Foreigners are coming from the European Union whether or not tourism and immigrants are coming from countries struggling economy, those who sometimes are cataloged in "underdeveloped countries." Class definitions, which are based on the information endless poverty that broadcast media and the image they give of those coming from southern countries.
is an immigrant from Senegal, Cameroon, Guinea, Mali's, the Togolese, Ecuadorian, Peruvian, Colombian, Moroccan and foreign ... French, English, German, American ... We have reached such levels that the thing even sometimes, it is not race but the penalty given by each one. The immigrant gives more trouble than abroad.

Unconsciously, we classify and label. The word "immigrant" has now become so negative that comes out of the mouths and insult which, perversely and contemptuous. And it distinguishes graded, labeled, cataloged and offensive manner derogatory to the needs of the host country. Because if a black is rich, distinctive characters immediately acquires an "alien" as a title of an illustrious and noble nobleman Nobleman in question. Therefore Eto'o is not an immigrant, but it is any other Cameroonian not have a high standard of living.

The word "immigrant" has acquired pejorative connotations, although most of the immigrants with curved back working in the fields of crops, doing jobs that nobody wants to do, while they call foreign fun, each in his way: museums, tours, bleeding and revelry. Many very civil and polite, some not, but as in all sites. Vale that these foreigners from rich countries contribute to the economy as a English service exports, a positive factor for GDP. Vale! But is that immigrants from poor countries make efficient the English economy to produce and consume more, at low cost. But nevertheless, his position in GDP has more character import.

GDP. Imperfect indicator, Gross Domestic Product.

GDP = C + I + G + X - M

With C consumption, private investment I, G and government spending on goods and services, X exports and M imports.

But according to BAE, the dictionary of this blog, the GDP increase is the Welfare Plan.

GDP = C + onvivencia I nformation G + January + e X pressure - in M orality.

And many people think:

GDP = C + apital I ndividual G + + e Astar X foreigners - in M igrantes.

So goes the world. Nothing is gained with greed, individualism egocentric and neglecting some social groups. The real growth is based on good living, respectively, with generosity, immigrants, natives and foreigners, with real information, a society of free speech and lots of morality.

Plan Increase Welfare is what we want to be. But we have to change the definition as soon as we give up some other capacity.
"Immigrants and foreign? The important thing is not how we identify people, but as we see them.

Immigrant and abroad.

a social approach, it seems more important, and the other dark and sad. But those who look stop and enjoy gossip, slander, to defame and discredit. For among the German who comes to spend their money, and the Senegalese who works with his hands rough and tough and grueling schedule, there is only one difference. The contribution of one seems more important than the other. But at heart ...

... The moral merit is the same.

http://yaivi.blogspot.com/

Mmorpg Furry Character

...

Friend,

You go back to your roots and I'm envious because I it will go very well. I read your letter a thousand times and I know by heart and all your questions, although deep inside me was that long ago that talked about this.

I was glad to read that you were going home to see your people, leaving behind Europe so cold that this winter so crude, but my heart stopped when I read that I wanted to tell yours. It hurt all the pain inside you that you have fear of rejection from those you want. And I was angry to see people like you suffer from things that have not chosen. I saw your fear, I saw your fears, I read your apprehension. I know you too well and even I know you shaking your pulse when you wrote me. Nervousness and anxiety when you know you can not refuse more than a moment that is becoming more present to the questions of your relatives. And I figured
front of your mother, her heart beating a thousand, sweaty hands, and a little dizzy trying to find the right words to say you're gay.

know you cried when you wrote that your mother certainly reject and I feel bad because I do not want to spend for a drink so hard. Your mother will surely understand. But what about the others? Maybe it will not take it well. Not because they are rare or hard-liners, but simply that in our lands, we have not reached this level. In times like these, it makes me angry that our countries are not as evolved as the European countries, our people do not have open-mindedness they have here and see homosexuals as dragons when here is standard in the world.

I know what you have suffered. I know all your inner battles. I know you went on there among other things to be free and live out your sexual freedom, but I also know that as much as run from the time provided, like a boomerang, just coming back.
And I am sorry to have to suffer for something that is not an eyesore, nor is it a horror. You are a wonderful person, one of the best I know, a guy. And I go on when I think that after all your internal struggles: failed romances with girls and hyper-masculine pose that for once you're finally released, now you re-lock because you might judge.

I know that after many years in Europe surrounded by friends I have never questioned anything, I think you're stronger mentalmente.Sé that we are already somewhat Europeanized by as much freedom and now we are guided by the "I do not lying "" I'm going with the truth "" I am free to say ... "when we used to think differently. But I think all your fears are stored there in you and that will be afloat with mute reproach, or any critical eye.
why I want you to think why now, feel the need to scream to all your sexual status. Is it for you? Is it for your mother? Is it by your partner? Is it because you need it or because others want to know? If you think you have to say, then say so. But think about it because you have no moral obligation to do so. Deems it not necessary to sit with me to tell me. We expect to ask and what you chose confirmármelo as you've done with all your European friends. Think first, because then you can not go back. And maybe you are hard. And I feel bad because you will suffer, and suffer because you will be judged by one thing they do not control or understand.

not think it's pathetic, "saying nothing" as you wrote in your letter. Your mother is older and you no longer live there. The only person that has to import in your decision to confess to all your family, your mother. You have to appreciate what she thought, or as you sit on it.
Your loving mother reared her alone. You are their only son, his child prodigy. Is you who thinks in the privacy of his home, from distant lands. She who always tries his physical pain and problems go unnoticed in his tone of voice when speaking to you over the phone. You are his life, his pride, are his vanity. Is you who thinks when cry in private, the distance that separates you. It speaks when you squint your eyes smug smile. It is you who hung the medals when he explains all your accomplishments, even the smallest. It is you who thinks when he hears in any news of any disaster anywhere in the world. You are their dignity, joy, satisfaction and you know she will suffer for you, as I suffer to think about what you tell others to know you're gay.

Some things can not choose, but we can not do anything against the ignorance of those who do not understand that the more someone is gay and if countries like ours. I'm sure the time and years modernize también nuestras sociedades. Europa también era así hace tiempo y incluso tristemente hay gente hoy en día en Europa que parecen ser de nuestros países, atrasados en este aspecto.

No soporto la idea de pensar que tienes que sentar a todo el mundo para contarles algo muy tuyo. Y más, que estarás solo. Aunque sé cómo o cuánto debes necesitar el hecho de decirlo o reconocerlo públicamente. Egoísmo europeo que antepone lo que quieres tú a todo lo demás. Buscas tu libertad y huir de mentiras simples ante preguntas incomodas, pero nuestras sociedades no están preparadas, están atrasadas.
Es triste que ni hayas robado, que ni hayas matado pero que tengas que esconder algo tan consustancial and so simple. I guess every society needs its process to reach the European level. But it is unfortunate that our countries condemn homosexuality and see it as unnatural.

friend In my opinion, I think it has to import to make this decision is your mother. It's always been there, even from afar. It is the only one you really, before your dear family, before me ... Although I love a lot.

Whatever you do, I'm here, always for anything. I know and you know there are things we can not choose. Born period. And remember, whatever you do, it will be correct. I know it's a phrase from whites, but cuela.Quiero decirte echo of that now at least, so as to echan of the good friends and at least in the exceptional people like you. A kiss

very safe. You
friend.
Always yours, Yaïvi.

http://yaivi.blogspot.com/

Getting Diseases By Sharing Jeans

VISCA CATALUNYA! LOS

Porto little time in Europe and although there have been things that I claimed, I learned other at high speed. live in Catalonia, a beautiful country, located just above the Valencian Aires, south-east of the Basque Country, under the high Pyrenees and cold and half-ring installed by the sea Mediterranean.

I have seen many things on TV, I read many things in the newspapers and gossip that has been buried because I'm all moved and everything that happens here in Spain. I know many English regions are annoying by Catalan patriotism. But why?
Catalans are patriotic. Defend their land, defend their language of efensen culture, defend what is theirs. But often the information that arrive are misunderstood and this generates regional hatred.

I admire the Catalan patriotism.

say that I admire that one must speak Catalan Catalan. I admire the Catalans to Catalonia as a nation, a country. I admire the Catalans who prevail before everything you own. I admire the Catalans off their land, turn on when someone speaks ill of his people. I admire his Catalan Catalan patriots to the end. Catalans love their land, Catalans who love their home, the Catalans love their food, they love the Catalan people.
I admire all this because I discovered what really I like the patriotism here in Catalonia. A clean and fresh feeling that comes from deep inside. I did not know that something existed. And we, poor dahomeensos, which we thought was a patriotic verse was to know the national anthem.
Catalan admire the patriotism and I think that if the Africans were more Catalan, our story today would be another. We are not so patriotic. Never been so conscientious. We have always been governed by the laws of the whites.

Our History, the Dahomey, was a time when our vernacular languages were forbidden and punished those who spoke the school. I understand that was or is a teaching methodology healthy for us to instill the official language of the whites considered. But had to leave our band? And many people renounces its own languages or dialects because it is chic to speak French or any other language of whites. As should be chic? if we know each other and know under what painful conditions live.

lack of patriotism was evident at the time of the settlers. As we could not fight to defend our lands? How can we not fight to defend our wealth? As we could not fight for our independence, our culture, our rights ...? And the worst is that after all this vanem enjoy European practices. What happens? Do we have horchata in the veins? The blacks are too conformist. Although the country of the Amazons in ancient Dahomey, there was a king, King Behanzin, one of the few kings nationalists who said "No" to everything.


not the entry of settlers.
not the theft of our lands.
not abuse inflicted on our people.
not the sale of slaves.

The settlers are told that we had our laws, our customs, which lived in harmony and not needed or guns, or combs, mirrors or to change male slaves. Behanzin had to fight with an army of women, the Amazons of Dahomey to recover what was ours. Quickly captured, imprisoned and deported outside their own country. Behanzin died in exile. I shout. By what right the French came to the happy villages, appropriating all the excuse of lack of civilization?!
King And like that, there were many other patriots before and after fighting alone against all. Behanzin already said. "It really victorious, the man who stayed alone, but is still struggling in his heart .." remember Thomas Sankara, El Hadj Omar Soundjata Keita Samora Toure, Bio War, Lumumba, The Saddath, and of course, Mandela.
Big names of great men. Patriotic fighters, which must be added to the great writers in an attempt to instill a little patriotism to us told us stories of wrestlers as "Bakayoko" the book "Les Bouts de bois de Dieu" by Ousmane Sembene. How we yearned for Bakayoko? How we feel anger when reading that was masterful slap tip Dejean, head to our white Bakayoko? But the anger went by closing the lid of the book. Horchata is what we have in the veins. Horchata or zucchini juice. Do not, do not understand. Where is this feeling of holy rage and anger that were the Amazons? Where are these spirits of patriotism?

Had there been more "Bakayoko" king or kings that African nationalist or if all of us will we let this feeling invaded by Catalan, our borders would not be today and unnatural straight lines, marked with compass and our countries such as sweets distributed without our vote. We have never advocated
our language. We have never defended our wealth and we remain poor, although supply raw materials to many countries. We have never advocated anything. Since we live with good manners of others, leaving our band that disappeared slowly. Only big names we are proud of African patriots, and our pride gets in a pathetic pride.

The Africans should be more Catalan.

not know in depth the history of Catalonia, but I'm sure that those who defend their land, it does so at some point, he was deprived of his rights as the owner of this land is your od'allò .
I admire the Catalan patriotism.

And when you've tried the bread with tomato and Catalan cream, when you saw the green valleys of northern Catalonia, kindness the grandmothers and laughter Catalan Catalan impregnated bearing heat, presence, tenacity and a bit of stubbornness, because you have only to inflate your lungs and shout "Viva Catalonia!".

May we all thus patriotic. I admire the Catalan patriotism.

http://yaivi.blogspot.com

How To Beat A Ankle Braclet

WesternUnion. DEAR RUTH

There is an old adagio that African Dice: "What eats roe, not knows that the chicken in culo le duele " queriendo of saying that when disfrutamos things, sometimes we do not stop to think what it has cost at which it produces.

Everyone thinks that the main problems are the integration of immigrants, language, changing environment, changing values, the everyday individual, the various forms of discrimination ... What people do not know is that immigrants encounter a major problem: the "Westerunioneados." In fact, it varies from country to become an NGO, a bank Devis for his people. And many, as a matter of ethics and honor to send money beyond their means depriving them of everything.

The problem, as always, is based on the vision we have all of Europe. The country of white is a rich country. And anyone who comes to live in, becomes rich. Friends and family who have stayed in the country you imagine the life that's gone and you are surrounded by luxury, light, delicious and jeweled conditions do not stop to help.
And given that African families are large and there is always an aunt or a cousin know, the aid is different: support for a brother's schooling, help for the funeral of an aunt, helps to pay a colossal debt , help with hospital expenses of a sick uncle ... Help solve things that only money. And the poor immigrant who suffers for days subsisting after day in Europe, is sacrificed for the christening of his distant cousin, passes the heating on cold refusing to save for the wedding of his cousin. Are deprived of everything. Do not buy clothes, not out, spend the minimum to send money home. Becomes the sole provider of all a great and large family that does not understand when he says that "Europe is difficult." And some take advantage
. Every time they call you hear "we days without anything to eat," "children eat nothing but love you so much" "Let brother, do not think we" "That e sla poverty compared to our dignity? .. . Phrases calculated and measured by experts blackmailers who live confined in a limited world and short of lights, in which the basic thought is that if you live in Europe, you have money. Sometimes even relatives are pushing themselves. And others say "help me to go to Europe without imagining the impossibility and difficulty of the event. The thing sometimes even go further and slash the ridiculous when some cousins or friends, ask for expensive items that neither can afford immigrant: latest generation cameras, computers and ultra fresh from the market, expensive designer clothing, smart phones ... They ask for everything. It knows even the names of the devices before they hit the market.

This also is caused by the image that there are some who live in appalling conditions in Europe and yet, to return to Africa and spend what little they have and live in luxury, with big car, inviting god all round, handing out tickets right and left, caricaturing an image of an immigrant who has become rich in the country of whites and "I've gone with nothing and came back with everything." So feel adored. Everyone praises him rich. Feel admired but goes into a loop that can not leave and can not stop spending so as not to disappoint his fans interested. And people think that all immigrants live well and call and call and do not stop to ask without considering what it costs the other to get money. And the immigrant will not stop sending remittances, one after the other, and more and more ...
When you're far, everything seems more serious. You live in constant alarm of losing people you love, not to see them again and you can not sleep when you say someone is sick. And do not rest until you have sent all savings for medical expenses even if you say you only have a cold. I feel bad you're not going to school for lack of funds. I feel bad that your uncle's family have nothing, and so many things. I feel bad all over and everything seems to be far more serious.
The immigrant is the least selfish person can be known. Can not think of self and sacrifices himself for all his family. Sends half of what they earn because they feel bad that his people suffer. It becomes an NGO for poor heart that suffers from all the others, simply because they see them. And this prevents you from moving or save it for better living.

In African countries, the "westernunion" are those who live on remittances that they send their relatives living in northern countries. Many appreciate the fact of receiving foreign aid but many others are leveraged into a new career westerunioneado and live well, at the expense of others who live in the most chaste of the possibilities. All people who eat eggs without knowing that the hen's own hurts them. Suck the poor immigrant without knowing all that hard earned money in a society that is not what many of us think it is. Sometimes, there is usually a family member like my mother always says: "Child, do not worry about me, I'm on my land and I shall die of hunger." Many

sacrifice greatly to go back without thinking, because it would mean failure and be the shame of the family. And the worst part is that there will be no help or moral support from anyone because no one understood to have returned. Unfair behavior toward someone who puts all his people himself.

suffer there and suffer here. Definitely, no rest in need.

http://yaivi.blogspot.com/

How To Tie Double Loop Belt

.

Dear Ruth,

Receiving your letter today after nearly ten years without knowing anything about you. The last time we saw you were a young girl lost in Egypt and Sudan in the hope that UNHCR gave you and you had refugee status by both the right and the media in the U.S. reasentarte. Today you are a grown woman, with a couple of girls and a divorce behind your back ... and a clear sense of disappointment that leaps to the eye. I remember

Cairenes in those days in which we talked about the future, you never believe me when I said that the "civilized world" was quite different from what you saw in movies. Both you and your friends will you believed all that came out on the damn screen. Not everyone has a house, or a wonderful garden, or tie the dog with sausage. Do not expect that in the midst of so much technological advancement and opulence could find so much poverty and lack of solidarity in the land of promise. Needless to say, never understand why my skepticism. Now you can see clearly what was at that time I was indecipherable and clothes do not hurt now recognize your miscalculation.

In those days, I remember when I said (and still maintain) that if I had to be poor, I'd rather be in Africa rather than in Europe or the United States. In Africa, how many times I've seen, you can always turn to a relative, a cousin, a relative you know only by name, someone from your tribe or region ... in the first world when it comes to "economic problems" of the household is almost a taboo to be over two days hosted in someone's house, seems like a bother. In the culture of my birth, so different from yours, poverty is more shameful, you suffer in silence trying to look their best to not give rise to hurtful comments or humiliating in the neighborhood or family. Poverty in Africa is easier to bear because it is shared and you can easily find someone to help you in your strictures. That coldness and loneliness of a world that deeply individualistic is that you have found all these years in this society that he longed to know.

telling me stories of these past years I sound like that song of the 70 who spoke of "Gigi L'Amoroso," that Italian playboy who left his people wanting to conquer the world and returned to the United States as a failure and with his tail between legs. Relatively speaking, of course, in your words, not only meeting also disillusionment with a reality so materialistic and so inhumane, but also the deep feeling of seeing a prisoner in the country of adoption and you are now surrounded by relatives who came gradually after you as a trickle of bureaucracies and luck and are now a burden for you because you prevented from returning to the Africa to which it is obvious, flings himself terribly less ...

I believe you, Ruth, I know now that you've seen the other side of the world you're dying to go back to your origins and your daughters to show landscapes and faces that will be completely unknown and even inscrutable. Hopefully you make it, hopefully you can go ahead and return to Africa to serve your people. Hopefully one day the vision of the handle near the house of your parents, that evening in the bush or the melody of a proud Dinka pastor who praises the majesty of his flock are able to erase forever the nostalgic sadness your eyes.


Written by Alberto Eisman, author of the Blog "In Africa Key" http://blogs.periodistadigital.com/enclavedeafrica.php

Thanks Alberto

http://yaivi. blogspot.com /

Phone Unknown Name And Number

THOSE WHO DO NOT COUNT. BECAUSE THIS IS AFRICA

This picture above is the Letter of Introduction from a course of free architectural projects for Africa, Course taught by my friend Victor, Professor of Urban Planning and Projects. The letter of the subject shows a map of the distribution of nighttime illumination of the earth, with images that let guess the idea is to build in Africa where Victor has done several projects as the rehabilitation of Bolondo hospital, school Doce de Octubre in Malabo, a nursery in Velingara, Senegal and many more ...
Victor is simple, loyal to the end, emotionally generous while sympathetic to the others. Human wealth, human wealth. Insightful, clever and witty, Victor has a brutal convening power and whenever possible, put your bit to help others. In love with Africa and Senegal emotional bonds are gigs up this beautiful poster for your subject.

I like to see in this country there are people like Victor, people like you who live in Africa too. I like to see that in Spain there are many people love the black continent, people who know that human beings are human beings, regardless of its origin.

beating Africa, the real Africa, Africa ours.

But as expected of someone ingenious poster Victor is a trap. So clear and so obvious and yet not obvious. Many people do not see it. Yes, the poster above has something rare. Very few guesses. Many people have looked at this poster and have not noticed anything. Not doing "Click on the image and enlarging, they see it. Nothing. As many will be watching now, racking their brains without seeing what has this image. What's so funny? A map of the world's night lighting and two images below.

What is it?

For as easy as real. In the poster above, do not leave Africa. In its determination to raise awareness, Victor has been removed Africa map and yet many people do not notice it.

Africa does not exist.

And I say it without anger, without depth of feeling and without any note of bitterness. It is that simple. Africa has never, and many people do not realize.

Africa is gone, gone on the news. It has no presence in almost any international body, not because it is not involved, but because the media does not give voice. Africa is lacking in education, when students know the War of Independence of the United States and are unaware of the genocide in Rwanda. Africa absent in the global economic crisis, absent in decision making countries over the world. Africa with an image of zero and evolution of autonomy and inability to drive, despite many years of financial aid. A continent without the involvement of influential countries despite its dubious democracy and their governments corrupt. Africa does not exist because there is no dangerous power, and has no economic resources. Is so little interest that many people would be unable to locate 30% of African countries. Is so little interest even if not the continent, some people do not realize. There are others who realize it, but throwing in a few seconds to minutes. Africa

ignored, forgotten Africa, Africa absent from our minds.

continent rich soil below, poor from the ground up and supplier of raw materials, although it seems that it has nothing to contribute to the world. Nothing. A continent of which little is known, very little, but it contains a rich cultural and traditional, with more than 2000 tribes, its geography, its history, its rivers, its mountains, its population ... Africa, like any other continent. Teach the image and you will see that many people do not realize. And it's not an optical illusion, it is simply that Africa does not count.

And I comes to mind, that quoted saying "God, when the king of the Jews and Europe to chase you North America and deny your existence, remember you have a place not only in Egypt but in all the districts of Africa ... When Europe and America will fail and forget to Africa, remember that Africa is a place of refuge ... "

Africa is the unknown neighbor, a continent much closer than others, yet unknown and nonexistent in our daily life, not exist in our minds. A little-known continent, which requires our attention.

What will it do? Maybe you have to start there, as did Victor.

The real image is the bottom. Victor

page: http://novesinfraestructures.wordpress.com/
http://yaivi.blogspot.com/

Sores Around Mouth In My Three Year Old

We spent half his life, with different information from different sources and different countries. And this information makes each one has their opinion respecting the realities of other countries.
In Africa, our vision of Europe, which we glimpse and glimpse into the imported series, documentaries, films, what we read in books, which tell us which have migrated ... We are influenced. And so many Africans see Europe as an El Dorado, a land of light, a panorama of green mountains that are looming on the horizon, well-dressed, exuding comfort. Although many times the information is censored, because you never see people smoking or bed scenes, what we get is a rich and attractive Europe.
I had always thought that here in Europe, the idea they had of Africa was that of our daily reality, overwhelming Africa, with its bikes, its air polluted, noisy markets, their smiles, their colorful fabrics ...
But
I was wrong. Once

from my couch zapping Europe, I saw a documentary on Africa. I was shocked to see half-starved children with flies around his belly swollen, and others suffering from Kwashiorkor, rickets crying with a trickle of high-pitched voice and odd. I froze, frowning at the impressive amount of trash, mountains and mountains of shit, with people around in the most natural routines. Girls squatting with his hands on his chin, lost in thought, not innocence. I was shocked to see poor markets earth-colored, with men carrying et sad women, all dressed in rags, people with houses of clay, and children with top-tails. I'm excited to see old men pulling loaded like mules or donkeys starving cows. I saw no structure, nothing. My heart ached at the thought that there were still people living well in Africa, people living in horrible and dire conditions in the whole country.

It hurt and I waited all these people, humanitarian aid and may have disconnected me from the pictures if you think all these people come out of this poverty. And suddenly left me and went back to frame reality. The voice-overs, with a hint of sorrow and bitter grief, with a tearful tone and washed by the suffering and grief said the name of my country. He said it was my country. My country? This was not my country.

Where are the pictures of my city? What about my people? Where are the streets and the paved roads that ran through me every day to go to school? Where? Where are the men to hurry on their bikes, cars and women with their multi-colored costumes and extravagant designs? Where is our dignity? This was not my country. Where are the markets in Boiling? What about the children dressed in the latest fashion similar to that of black Americans from the beginning of last century? This style is for us all a waste of glamor and finesse. Where are the chubby child with a warbling voice anticipating a jet associated with successful feeding of corn, beans, rice, soybeans, powdered milk, smoked fish and egg shells? Where are the tacky buildings with light signals? And those streets every night atmosphere buzzing noise from the crowd? And, it is that people are not like cities, but this was not my country, in the poor peoples of Dahomey, people smile. Where had they taken these landfills were whole acres of shit?. This was not my country.

wondering why I was surprised they put these images and not the other, the people in their daily routine, going to work, partying like every night in Cotonou, images of local overflowing with people drinking and chatting and in the bars of the Gran Vía Why are you, not even a glimpse glimpse modernization and social progress, but a life of endless poverty and without any future? This was not my country. I had never gone through those sites I saw on the screen. And walk that I have reviewed the various corners of my land.

My country is not the country of children stunted and Kwashiorkor and does not enter into our vocabulary. We have malls, we have schools, we have people who dress pants and shirts, women in miniskirts and matching belts, hair salons filled, we have buses, we have taxi-bikes, have water and electricity service, we have government offices, fashion , film festivals and theaters, banks ... And forgive to list things as banal but is that the documentary could not get any of this. We have all this, though not as modern technology, as here. Sure. But in that film came out only a picture of a sad Africa, unrecognizable to the Africans themselves. An Africa not only poor, but finished and crushed under the weight of virulent diseases and poverty unhealthy.
and this fills me with rage.

maybe I put these pictures to encourage the NGOs or the sensitivity of people to donate to humanitarian aid, but I was not eased the anger. I thought well, maybe it was the only way I had to sensitize the people here that there was much to do in Africa, but not anger me relief. I thought that maybe this was really in my country, but not anger me relief. I thought, reflection, meditation, brooding, thought, I reasoned I was relieved but not rabies. A dull feeling of rage that I rose from the depths of my heart, like when you lie and you know, like when you can not do anything to respond to a humiliating insult. My country is not. What need is there to stop an entire country reduced to this picture? A continent minimized this. There may be other ways to raise ... What? Does that help or sponsor not do so if they did not see pictures of this guy?

is that for many reasons that put him to justify this documentary, I could not get out rage and anger. And I remembered CAD PRODUCTIONS with his documentary on immigration, when Phillipe told me they wanted to sensitize the people against the immigration problem and not to the same long documentary in which blacks are in boats, with dry mouth or working in the fields, but a different picture because " people who come here and live, work, and is listed as living here." Why do such as CAD, a documentary on different countries Africans with our everyday reality?, so anyone who goes to Africa is not expected to fly, so that anyone who sees an African, do not think that is another "cheapie" that comes from Botswana or a jungle tribe with top-tails and flies. In Africa there are people living not only wealth there is poverty there. Africa is only related death, disease, poverty, decay, war ...

In Africa there is poverty, there are diseases and there are people who have nothing and who lives with many shortcomings. I do not even talk about the war-torn countries or those who have suffered endless conflict. It is true and irrefutable. But there are other things. There are a lot of people sleeping in beds with mattresses, that get up every day with alarm clock radio, shower with water that is potable and take your car, or bike to go to work. People who have a life, a second home for feasts on Sundays with his family and his dog. People like my neighbor, my neighbor, my teachers, my friends, the people of that neighborhood, there, and this, and this one ... People running, clean, happy, to be washed every day and you eat each day. What is not normal is that living in 2010, still has people wondering if there are universities in Africa, if there are schools, if we have TVs, if you have electricity, if you have Internet ...

And I remembered that sometimes my city, my friends, we saw wearing white shirts torn, dirty and worn. We did not understand because they came with clothes and people and to watch them go says "Look, poor whites." Many are in Africa wear clothes because they know that there's nothing there and that they are no longer around to the locals. I never understood why white tourists in Africa came with desgastadísimas propaganda shirts and trousers with holes. Now I understand. They have seen many documentaries and t think that any dirty or broken by this, for us it was a godsend. I can not imagine my friend Nadia getting a shirt worn by very "gift target "that is, to jointly with their stilettos. Of course, we accept it for a "serpillière" anything goes.

The European broadcasters transmit a one-way information of the black continent. Just explain how we die every day, such as poverty begrudge us from within. As Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie said, Nigerian writer and winner of the prestigious Orange Prize for Fiction British "... Too many people have told that Africa is dying and how little African lives." Africa I lived, not the one I saw in that documentary. I know Africa is not Africa of malnourished children, or an Africa of flies and garbage, or huts and top-tails. I lived a boiling Africa with thousands of motorcycle, car, family, Sunday Mass, walk to the beach ... When will we stop viewing a stereotypical Africa to look at a real Africa?

I left disgusted with this film and I felt cheated. I know that everything has a reason but this was not my country.

But hey ... If this is the image of Africa that want to have them fester, I already know that I have Africa on my mind and I have within my heart.

http://yaivi.blogspot.com/

This is a video made by Africans for the web.

How To Act Around A Scorpio Man

ELECTIONS WITH TONGO 2. ELECTIONS WITH

E lessons Tongo 1. The election campaign was like a party every day.
But at the same time, also breathed a palpable tension and an atmosphere of nervousness. The election campaign there is comparable to the mouth of the passion of football here. In the same manner as a mother could not bear another Barca and Barca one finds it unbearable the company of another of Madrid, for there members of each party can neither see. The political discussions are multiple, frequent and irreversible. It's funny because the people Dahoméense not divided or with football, nor religion, nor with differences of opinion, nor with the existential discussions. The only thing that divides people there are political parties. If you're a party leader, he can not bear the presence of another of the opposite party, so insufferable, irritating, sick with bile boiling. It is so unbearable that often come to blows. Cakes around here, punched around, throw pots

there ... in fact simply wear the shirt, coat or a party flyer conviertía you the target of beatings of another party. The law was. Threats silent deep hatred for a sketch on a piece of paper. Differences irreversible, definitive breaks, broken friendships and finished. If one party was Soglo, inevitably and immediately hated other Kérékou party and vice versa. No matter that they were close friends, longtime friends, relatives, brothers, known ... There was no forgiveness.
Intolerance general obduracy and intransigence. In a common courtyard, if a neighbor happened to him to radio his game knowing that their neighbors were on the other, the act is considered a cockiness that automatically made him enemy number one ", target neighborhood of embezzlement, and a signed another subtle revenge. Simply whistle rhythmic and catchy slogans of the other party, even by mistake, it was a symbol of defiance.
During the election was common to see families torn apart, divided by the two parties, women desmaridadas, because the very outcasts and damned sang the anthem of the party of Satan, knowing that her husband was on the other, and over the very ruin they deny. Husbands evicted by-laws because they occurred at very illiterate simpletons and some small praise leader under antagonist.

Soglo - Kérékou. Kérékou - Soglo. Daughters

unfortunate, reputed to be a "non-ideology" for dating boys who smelled the opposite party, Tenants in the street because he sensed that the owner was contrary to his party. Daughters obscenities to no end because his family was the other side. Students suspended because they came to class wearing the shirt of the opposite party to the teacher. The sellers refused to sell to those not of his party, "Who wants money damn?". Employers who refuse to work honorary doctor of their sector just because you tell it's the other side ... Urticaria
general sound of the name of a party and joy worshiper and reassuring to hear the other. For all parties had personal vendetta and revenge, extreme and irreversible, in popular opinion justified by national feelings.

Kérékou The party can not be friends of the party Soglo. Impossible, irrefutable and logical for us all. Surreal dialogues.
"" You can believe that my lifelong friend is Kérékou party? - What a shame! Do not tell me. I guess they've cut this friendship ... - Men ... What do you think? "
" - My neighbor is a snake. Soglo is party. - Ugh! death of snakes. "
" "You've heard that your sister's party Kekereke? I came here to tell you. - What? Good God! And he saw something wrong in the face of this sow *. I'll let pagar.Se will know "
" - My brother has embarrassed me by declaring Soglo party. - How generous you are, you continue to call "brother "..."

The rivalry between the leaders was spread among "fans" and supporters. Each day was a hit again with rhymes offensive to the opposing party. repellents and catchy songs, versions of folk songs to leave the others green. And every day there were pitched battles. The "fan" Dahoméenses is a "fan" with a heart of fire, joined his cause and supporter of it to unknown heights. And so when processions were ardent members of the two party leaders, got off the car and he rolled to his fists, after personal insults, physical and smart. Horde of people fighting when they had never seen in person they represented. There were so many unpleasant events which finally decided to put a schedule of campaigning. Those of Kérékou had a slot and those of other Soglo to prevent militant groups found each game. Some were campaigning in the morning and others in the afternoon.

For this election I voted ... 110 political parties in a country of 112,622 km2. Of course, my country also has three capitals. Do not laugh. That to us is groovy.

Then came the big day.

Given the number of political parties, and not having to make thousands of ballots for each party to the voters, the government "competent" was a great idea. Miniature decided to print on a sheet of A4 paper every party logos, and each voter, with the help of a buffer, had to leave a mark on the logo of his party. The idea at first was brilliant and twin principles of recycling, proved to be a mess.
Dahoméenses parties in Most were based on three colors to define his patriotism: green, yellow and red colors of our flag, and with the help of the odd symbol to represent their ideology: palm trees, roosters, sun ... Some had
palm and sun. Others had a palm tree, sun and a lion. Others had a sun, a rooster and a palm tree on paper ... and finally all the symbols look the same.
Given that many voters could not read, the situation was a mess because they had to find a palm tree with a symbol in a sea of palms and symbols. And they were the perpetrators and was heard: "Young help me find my party is the lion, the palm and the sun "" Well, mine is the palm and cock and waning sun rays "... The names were similar to the titles of the Narnia films.
Some of the officials who helped those who were not told, they did so in bad faith and showed them wrong logos, which were those of their parties.
The drawings were so small that people, by sealing the large buffer also sealed juxtaposed party logos. Monumental failure because by law, if the seal touched another logo, when in doubt the vote was invalid.
The 2001 elections were a mess and a fraud scrutiny.

Some parties had only one vote. One vote, when they had spent much money in the campaign and had hundreds of members. As we say here: "What you stand for in the campaign, not necessarily what you're going to vote."
The elections were declared void by the mess in the count, and it disappeared as if by magic all the ballots that had the stamp marking the party Nicéphore or other parties who also had more weight. That gave the victory to the party of former dictator.
All parties rebelled and elections were invalidated. Decided to make a runoff, but this time, only a few parties leaders.
Nicephore Soglo and the third in the list, Adrien Houngbédji dropped out, said the State of Tongo and appealed to supporters, urging them not to vote. And I no longer vote.

The former Dahomey in the second round to the polls, posted a record rate of invalid votes and spent 85% of voters in the first round to 53%. Some say the least. Kérékou was reelected president by absolute majority with 84% of votes. A landslide victory. Dahomey

And sank again into his routine, with its Democratic chairman, former dictator, with the other opponents bilious trying to pay the debts of the campaign, with minor parties trying to understand why only had one vote, yours, trying to understand why their loved ones were ...

And the quiet village, knowing that anyone who rises to power, whether one, or else seek their own profits just by plugging a cousin here and another brother there. But so what?, If we already have the bags of rice, potatoes, t-shirts of different parties, sunglasses and mobile ...

I vote in a state of Tongo General. Ay! What a thrill.

http://yaivi.blogspot.com/

Email Interview Thank You Subject

TONGO 1.

in my life, I've only voted once. A one and only time.
Not that I refuse to fulfill my civic duties, but for various conditions, simply because I have not vote more. This does not have anything special, if not the only time I vote, there were 110 political parties in action, and also was the first time in our history that a woman, Marie-Elise Gbedo, led one of the parties. But the strongest is that this election is declared void. My first and only vote in an election was in Tongo. The year was 2001.

Of the 110 games, had two more strong, led one by Mathieu Kérékou, who had no party and the other by Nicephore Soglo.

situated in the history of Dahomey, one of the leaders at the 2001, was a military Kérékou political, named president of the Revolutionary Armed Forces by order of his cousin Maurice Kouandété after the 1968 coup. Commander of a military unit and army chief of staff of Dahomey, Kérékou rose to power in a coup in 1972, finishing with a triumvirate government had at the time, with three presidents who governed the country alone one after another every two years. In 1974, letting the bullshit Kérékou adopted Marxism-Leninism as a political power, changed the name of the country People's Republic of Dahomey to Benin, banned political parties and declared himself dictator.

In 1990, 19 to 28 February, took place the Conference of the Forces of the nation and stirred the current democratic country. The atmosphere was muted while tense. We all knew it was coming very delicate, a transition that could be complicated. Dissolved the old revolutionary bodies, created a legislative body and adopted a new constitution. And the country went from revolution to democracy. Así.

On March 21, 1991, democratic elections were held in which he lost and won Kérékou great Nicephore Soglo, the then Prime Minister of the transition, former inspector of taxes appointed by his cousin, Colonel Christophe Soglo. Throughout his mandate, Nicéphore helped in lifting the country in many ways but the most remarkable were the stones that put much of the city. Today, still remembered for this. Is that they were the first paving of our history.

In 1996, he called another election in which was presented at the former dictator Kérékou who won, defeating Nicéphore. Kérékou today is considered the only dictator who has become a Democrat. These things only happen in the Old Dahomey.
In 2001, the two leaders met again to fight for votes. "The field of presidential influence" of Kérékou, who had no party and the party of Benin Renaissance "of Nicephore Soglo.

The two leaders were with another ninety-odd games, the incalculable number of political parties are still increasing in the country. Parties who are fighting to win as many votes as possible in their place in the corrupt power.

He began the campaign.
During the campaigns in Dahomey, the atmosphere is festive. There is a growing excitement and a buzz in the air and everyone has a fire interior, with the encouragement to stop preparing for the big day. Women are more beautiful, more smiling men, older children and birds singing lighter. There are activities everywhere. Gifts deals everywhere, "stands" on every corner, with people shouting slogans speakers of their songs or games. And there are parades every day, on foot, by bike or by car, members of each party, singing, whistling, shouting, calling the vote to all the promises of his party. People will run from meeting to meeting, singing songs of each party. Processions entire people, men and women dancing to frenetic drum and orchestras T-shirts with the parties. Beeps, chants, shouts allegorical, laughter, everything ... Everyone is in on it and each fiercely defending his party with original slogans and catchy songs as could be. Is an event.

leaders in turn, distributed from promises of a better country, party shirts with coats, bags of rice, beans bags, hats, fajotes tickets, sunglasses, flyers, potatoes, sacks of corn, Mobile, bras and panties with printed leader's face in the most subtle ... It is clear that each country has its need in terms of votes. And supporters, members, pick gifts promising their votes. I have to say that the Dahomey people secretly joins several parties. They joined one of the two leaders and then to other minorities. There is no control. The idea was that if all parties gave away tickets, food and more, as was the fool who did not join at all. For those who do not understand, because you do not eat coconuts. It's up to blacks. These things happen there. It Dahomeenses thing. "What difference does the ideology ahead of many gifts, if in the end only you know you vote?"
When I was a leader to speak in a town or a neighborhood, people plastered all over the town or the neighborhood with posters of his party because it came loaded with gifts they had his speech, a cleaning unit and papered tore everything all over again with the next leader banners visitors. The commercialization of the votes with a little organic acting, clean and worthy of an Oscar, pretending to the leader that is unique in the hearts of his voters.
In that 2001, the thing was brutal. Everywhere there was talk only of the same. In bars, schools, taxis ... The entire population was mobilized. Sit at home watching the crowd pass was almost the same as seeing a reality show or even cults, it was like in person glimpse of the play "The Square". Everywhere they looked were prominent supporters in number, Leaders in both parties. Kérékou's party and the Soglo. The fans of Kérékou shouted "Kekereke" and those of Soglo "Huezehue - yan." It was like a party every day.

... (A suivre: Elections in Tongo 2 )

http://yaivi.blogspot.com/

Can Shingle Cause Dementia

"Criticism? IF SEN BLANCHE


What am I going to deny? It is a fact. I Europeanized.
My soul, my mind, my values, my habits, everything has undergone a change, a mestizaje. I'm not the same as before, but my spirit and essence remain the same. I changed and it is true. I can not deny any more. I know you like it or not, my mind is no longer there, as neither is my way of thinking or seeing things, my perspective and my ideology.

I tried to stay strong with everything I've ever been but I'm not the same. I, while another. And so I created this blog to record things that are mine, not to forget, to not forget where I am and what things he did, what they saw, what they loved and others I liked. Because I am afraid that I deleted as I have erased many other things.

Many people accuse me of always speaking "white" and "black" and start all my sentences with "Well, in my country ..." or " us ...." say that I do with a rintintin, which suggests that the realities are better there than here. Not so at all!

Silence.

How could I misjudge a reality in which I live? All sites have their good things and bad things. Behanzin up at the gates of land of the dead, praised the discipline of white troops decimated their own in a battle by killing his ardent amazons and his brave warriors. How I'm not going to appreciate this if right now is giving me SIEO to follow me? Of course I value las realidades europeas y me encantan las costumbres, las tradiciones y los hábitos. Para mí, las diferencias culturales se quedan en diferencias culturales. No se puede comparar cosas que son diferentes. Cuando se habla de culturas, o de costumbres, se puede dar constancia de las de un país y de las del otro. No se pueden comparar. Mi realidad es la que cojo como base. Es la que más conozco. Y si alguien no lo ve claro, pues es lo que hay.

¿Qué tengo que hacer? ¿ser menos sincera? ¿De qué me sirve un armario si está lleno de prendas que no me gustan? En mi armario, están mis prendas, mis favoritas, las que más me gustan, mi realidad de cada día, mi rutina y incluso prendas prestadas of the odd friend. Who has not borrowed clothes? If someone does not like, not moonlighting in my stuff. ITEM once again that my texts are caricatures, grotesque caricatures allow exceptions. I have no scientific basis for the things I say, because my tradition is oral. All the things I write are nothing absolute or irrefutable, even sometimes inconsistent. Everyone is free to believe or not. Or white is as white or black is so black. Look no further. The realities are different and none is better than another. If my country would be better, I would not be here, and if this was better, I never remember my land and try to publicize things about me, our things. Let's all modern
but then, when we hear a sequence followed by the word "white" and "black," she squeaks and it hurts the ear. What's wrong? What if black is not black and white, white? What has this to do with whether people are worse ones than the others? Is it bad to say "white" and "black"?

Besides, I'm in my second phase of immigration and now I have to talk about my country. Now I have to idealize everything I have there. Do not overestimate, but I served as reference only. When I speak of African countries, generalize because I believe in the "no borders." And when I say white and black, I do intend to say it does not matter really where we are and what skin color is nothing more than skin color. It is just a reference point for cultural differences. It is my vector and my common factor. It is my measure.
say they do not stop talking about the same. What do you want to talk? How paleontology? Yes! Cry. I do not know of paleontology. I can only speak from what I know, my country, me, my experiences. I know nothing else. I keep screaming. Each has its roots. And these are mine. And this is what you get.

say that I like a white. I'm a bit of anger but it will truth, because it would never have taken the initiative to create this blog and not be so honest at times, because I mind very much the "what say" I care as before. Also because my formerly be discouraged by obstacles.
say I'm white inside, black outside but sometimes I feel bad. I would love to remain the same as before, both inside and out. But like it or not, affects the reality in which we live and just as things change, we change too. I would have loved to remain black, true black, which was wrong when he spoke, that mixed situations, it was intransigent, which was actually surprised with the customs Europe, which went to the beach with pool cap, which he regarded as sacred friendship, which cut paper with kitchen scissors, which premiered his stuff not because they were new, the people waving coming up the subway, talking to strangers on the street, they always chose the gaudy things, which was a bit cheesy because it was so ...
Now I know that I have become stronger, with more initiatives, more free, even in I've earned my mixing occasional fear and some other complex. I'm mixed and they are my new evils.

The mixing is inevitable if you're there and here, away from yourself.

say that I believe my reality with a mind of white and I do not know if it's true, it gives me a little afraid to accept it because it looks like I have nothing in there, there's where I am. And I cling to our proverb that says: "As much as is the tree trunk in the river, will never become a crocodile" . I'll never be a crocodile. Do not laugh. I'm just a tree trunk in the European sea. I'll never be white, as much as this country of whites but the truth is that I look in the mirror and see that I changed, inside and out.

I was able to channel my mixing with the help of all I have around me, parents, siblings, friends and every day come into this closet to rummage items and ideas for nights out and events. But I will not be easy and I have many things to do among them accept that I like a white. How hard! I do not know if I want to be white on the inside ... Although it is late, because I've lost my uniform.

Black and white? Well mine is more "saugrenu." I am black on the outside and a little white on the inside. Jo ...! But ... As I said before, now I'm stronger. I'm more free.

My closet is cultural realities. As Jupiter said, if I made someone has something to say, to come without fear, lay remedio a la cosa. Y aquí sigo

como los juncos de pie ...

http://yaivi.blogspot.com/

Penn State Wrestling License Plate

j'étais ...

If I was born white, I had a happy childhood with songs to sleep, millions of miles of toys colors and parents who put my safety first and foremost, my stability and my well-being.

had I been born white, my body could enjoy the creams the sweetest, most exquisite perfumes, shampoos and scented, silky clothes of all colors, which would work all my senses since I was little.
I wish I was born
blanche to be that control at home have always bitten tantrums and make everyone dance to my will power to tell people "shut up" when I get tired of listening because the only person that matters is me.

I wish I was born white because I had the opportunity to travel, go to the most charismatic and deep earth, having the feeling of "eat" the life and know that if I wanted I could. Climb on the walls of the highest terrestrial orbit, globe and enjoy a satisfactory feeling of loneliness.

I wish I was born to live in a white room facilities, opportunities, knowledge, convenience ... and a peaceful life without worries. For what it's like "decide" what "security" or "having low morale, feeling selfish and egocentric that it does not bother me; Enjoying a physical love with hugs, kisses and all these things I do and say the whites.


... But I was born in a place where Mother Nature dominates premium and, where appropriate, the need and shortages do leave no room for flattery nor treats. A place where poverty is a setting where trsitesse and has no place. I was born in a place where the drums resound calling for joy by vibrating souls; A place where my ancestors were born directly from the ground and implored the rain with salt and fire. I have the lion's blood in my veins and I have the gods of thunder, iron and earth watching over me ... So say the fathers of my fathers.

I have a culture of songs, choruses, truths that make each day is not only a routine or habit. I can read in their eyes. I know the people. I know what it is that the concern and what comes just before "suffer". I know people value, and highlight what I have. I know to be grateful. I know what the slaps, hawk everyday clothes every day and Sunday clothes. Playing in the street half-naked, with the elements of nature as toys. I know how carefree laughter resounds.

I know what it is to play, put a bird on top of the mango trees; see the world perched up there, and think that the horizon is the cabin looming out there in the distance. Go on vacation by just changing neighborhood. Bubbled, wade in the river with friends, challenging the simple rules of hygiene and infection. And my poor skin, accustomed to the weather, not suffer under the floor burning at the zenith, or with the bite of a scorpion.

I know what it's like walking barefoot, barefoot running, noting the path of stones, stones with a simple touch reminds me of my childhood. I know what it means to be lying in a field, the grass all around, and listen to crickets sing; wet grass reminiscent of the melancholy smell of rain. The "wake up early," siesta under the trees in the afternoon, this ignorance that produces well-being and peace of mind. See the stars just by looking up and know that you can not "eat" the world, but you can t'élancer and fly.

I know what the houses are poorly built, that have nothing to do with the great city of stone, but each has its history. Like the baobab trees with their majestic Terrifying. A culture of stories, suppositions, superstitions and the metaphors that defy even the great Tim Burton.

I proud of my roots and I swagger up to the full. Is someone who has experienced anything who suffers for the same things. I am prepared. I have my experiences as a shield, experiences that have sharpened my senses and intuition. I have the strength to face my problems. I have in me the bravery and courage of the leopard. Fire burning me to live with any passion. Me, I can fly.

I wish I was born white but seen is much more cool to be black.

* Text cartoonist, translated from the original version in English: Me Hubi gustado ser blanca.

http://yaivi.blogspot.com/

Smelling Cheerleaders Feet

FOR ALL THOSE WHOM THE FALL sad

Although I know that these past few weeks I have dropped a bit this space (it must be said that has sat for lack of time, which continues to be good, means that tedium has not not me yet) Now I return to the blog post them a letter very good song by Timbaland Tarragona ... Enjoy!

  the evening is when  

 're as tired  

  and do not know what to do and you get set 
 And you're very alone and noise vanishes, And watch the street 
 
 And not many people 
 
 I change the sounds and all seems dead. I would shout loudly 
 
 What the hell are you to 
 the evening you are sad, and I do not know where to go 
 you prepare a Whisky And it pretends 
 
 I can finish a cigarette without desire aflame 
 smoking and turn off and soon you become a axiecar 
 and suddenly you are afraid of 
 sentirte so empty, you go to the pub 
 
 I can not find anyone and goes out into the street and start running 
 And you wind was drying the tears 
 seems tired and you stop with the nose full of mucus 
 t'empatxes 
 and night and breathe loud, strong, strong, strong. 
 
 the evening is when you as tired, and do not know what to do 
 And you get very lonely and you're set 
 And the noise fades away, and watch the street 
 And not many people  

Ny State Drivers License 2010

WHY HAVE THE BLACK AND THE ass? LES BLANCS SONTA

What is it that makes my ass and black? Why is that?
First of all, I want anyone reading this text, do not attempt at any time, imagine or visualize a black-ass. The aim of this text is to show ass or buttocks, but if someone reading it will her eyes, what can we do?

Everybody knows that Black has the upturned ass. An ass arched, curved, shaped like a right angle conveyor, a little timid ass is swinging in rhythm with any music and the buttocks facing the sky. A very shady ass, an ass with inherent identity with a perfect arc at times and so prominent that many, including me when we throw ourselves against the wall, straight, our back does not touch the wall. Not funny, not amused, especially when you have to stretch into the soil and passes back and buttocks a hollow bestial. An arrogant ass, with a singular verb that at first glance makes you want to hit a snack.

black's ass is not no secret. Rather it is a "because." And this "because" lies, in addition to racial factors in African massage. An ancient massage that will make all the babies, since the dawn of time. Is a massage that is transmitted from generation to generation like all oral traditions. A massage with a host of benefits for the child, both drunk as most: dynamism, physical strength, determination, endurance, strength ...
This massage aims to relax the baby but in a structured and shape, curves, robustness and hardness. It is becoming in the bathroom. It's quite a ceremony worthy of observation. A slow ritual always done by a woman, a professional, is the mother of the mother, an elderly aunt, a grandmother or mother's own expert if you already have experience. A massage that reaffirms the figure of the creature, fitness for a boy and femininity if a girl. The baby is massaged to convey moral forces, sexual and physical.
After the bath, another detailed process with water, soap and sponge in Africa, like the fishing net, massage ritual begins. I guess every country has its own technique of massage, I speak of Dahomey.
First, the mother or professional, take a rag soaked in hot water. With the damp, hot, without deploying and compressed, is pressing firmly all around the baby's body. From the legs to the head, everything. Is massaged every part of the body though the massage differs depending on whether it is boy or girl.

If the baby is a girl, the professional with the cloth, press firmly entire area of the buttocks, legs, whole body, inch by inch for the larger girl does not have not one ounce of cellulite or flabby meat but hard and compact. After returning several times to wet the cloth and reaffirm the entire body, the professional takes Shea oil and massaged the girl to shape, emphasizing the natural arches, the area of the hips, lumbar ... Are massaged hands, feet, legs, face, cheeks, palms of the hands, fingers, back, belly, everything, including the head so that the child does not have the typical "egg head". Everything, gently but firmly. The curved areas are massaged to encourage more to the curve and hand, the mother pushes the area above the buttocks, one and another and another time. It pushes all the dough "spanking" to call it something made up, so that the child has the right and round ass on your site that is up almost on the back. Dough rounds uniform. And this is repeated every day for a long time, just upload and rounded ass. Also massage the pubic area, the hip area to provide the child at the time of birth.
The boys are also massaged with cloth, and are given more importance to the legs and arms, in order to prepare for the hard physical work. Hence, the African have upturned ass and the guys seem so strong and all are bundles when they have never been to the gym.

For anyone who is not accustomed to the hot-baby massage to Africa because it could violate the baby is caught by the legs with his head down and he moves a little, then the arm with the baby hanging in air and the other and takes him by the head and is moved slightly. After this, as you can understand, the child is sleeping like an angel, her body relaxed. Obviously
African massage is an important step in the breech position, but also many other factors influence racial. Blacks have more ass. It is racial. The massage does not create an ass nothing, just help in the firmness and hardness and curvature as well.

In Dahomey, massage for newborns is essential, basic, capital and crucial. Hence, when someone is dumb, tell "Do you, do not massaged either small or what, a phrase that comes in handy at any moment, like when you see a woman who has curves, or someone is very soft or out of power and who gets tired fast.

Among black asses, one can distinguish several types: big ass, ass down, picked up her ass and ass "pim pim" as the depravity of the people, long ass, ass to the knee, ass dancer flat ass, fat ass, huge ass, ass bowl, unfunny ass, ass really, ass home without Ghanaian products, thick ass, ass "Oh My God" back ass, mom ass, ass-breaking, ass blinding ... While all of this and has to do with the family genes of each and how much you like a walk in corn buns with condensed milk or yoghurt fermented. But everyone in general are gone and some so strong, so hard and free of cellulite that makes you want to align. No flabby ass or ass jelly or cellulite rampant. And if so, is that massage is not well done.

And you, what ass are you?

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