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?

http://yaivi.blogspot.com/

Building A Shower Bench

façades against MOI. ETERNAL

I lost all hope to develop a little, all we have here at home. I lost a little hope to explain to white people, our realities of blacks in Africa and Europe. I lost a little hope to change the points of view, the perspective on us, on them, highlighting the cultural differences that separate us. I lost all hope because some commonplace.

I tried to explain our moral code our physical and mental realities of our every day, what to what we confront, and all that is ours. I tried to explain just how one feels immigrant who leaves his home, which passes through our heads when we left our lives behind, with no expiration date and what we read in the eyes of some of those they came to occupy the country.
I tried to highlight our customs, our beliefs because they sometimes pejorative ideas, ignoring our customs and our religion. I explained our stories they discover our wisdom ... sorry, that of our ancestors.
I talked about polygamy, I spoke of our moths, our oral tradition, I spoke of the great African writers, those whose readings were held throughout our childhood. I talked about our songs, our superstitions of Voodoo and FA. I mentioned the majestic Baobab, the caïlcédrat, our pharmacy and our wise herbalists. I even talked about the misconception that we in Europe and that hundreds of people die every day in the sea in search of the mirage of a false paradise ...

I spoke to us. I talked about here.

But as always, there are people who are bounded. A society that is sometimes said open and is bounded on all alien to him. The whites do see that they accept everything, so they accept anything that does not come written in Wikipedia, Google or Facebook. Double legal

square and spirit ... And finally, I lost hope.

There are whites who are angry against me. Maybe because I told them they have the "White Complex, a complex that some whites do not want to say 'Black' when speaking of black and prefer to use the outputs as" people of color " "People like you ... But I also said that there are blacks who have" Complex Black 'and who think that if they are called "blacks" are reminded of their status as descendants of slaves, then there is nothing serious in what we call you "black."
They are angry, maybe because I said that if it was not because of the economic side, the blacks, we are better here and that European society is going through a difficult labor with her youth out of control, young people who beat their teachers and even parents; impossible to Dahomey hierarchy where respect is a line drawn beforehand that we follow our values anclant the same way that did before our parents. I said that their companies are selfish and individual, they are not intended to speak with neighbors, they do not greet each other and then they brag to chat with people who are at the other end the planet. They may be angry because I told the truth to vomit with the excuse of being sincere and able to tell their best friends: "I'm tired of listening to your problems." they yell and then they act as if nothing had happened.
And maybe because I said that there no humanity because people in the street do not help them, and more when you try to help them, they are frightened, they have every reason to be happy and many are not.
They sound angry because I wrote that our illnesses are viral and we theirs, mental, and they leave the old folks in homes when at home, they were at home. They do not get involved to help others and do not give their opinion even among friends. Perhaps also because I said that Africa is not going to the psychologist and they keep saying "I love the color of your skin ", when it's terribly frowned upon by them, a black says he wants to be white and they judge you if you say you love Michael Jackson. Maybe also because I wondered publicly if it was worth coming to Europe, because eventually you become disoriented and you're nowhere.

I do not know why they get angry when I have not even touched the unjust history of endless farms and geographical barriers in our countries who are straight lines drawn with the rule when they divided our country as of sweets. Instead I set values the many positive aspects Europe, their freedom, clarity, organization, lack of harm to another, their common sense and the opportunities they offer to people in their society, their economic system ... I said that Africa has a lot to learn from Europe, "Yovos" and the country Yovos. In the same way as them, us and Africa. Miscegenation and the mixture is the wealth of the future.
Last time, during a dinner, I quietly sipped a glass of wine when a man told me so haughty and unpleasant "You come here to drink wine, while home in Africa that you offer water. " I looked for a moment and I told him that with him, I learned a new lesson, he showed me that an ignorant is not necessarily someone who was not at school.
And the gentleman, piqued, completely offended was angry against me.

Nothing is better than another. Simply the realities are different.


Dedicated to my cousin Rene Patrick H. who spent many sleepless nights to listen parler textes month.

http://yaivi.blogspot.com/