Life can last for minutes, days to months. The brutal African beauty always has a back room where the idyllic dreams are fumigated. Africa is appalling at times, lower the Western mind in which routine problems are other. It's amazing how naturally accepting death, dry, tearless, of who knows what the future is measured from another yesterday. Life is no reason, will only. The teacher Ryszard Kapuscinski explained very well in some of his great books on this earth.
The wonderful island Berrenguerua, of an article I published in this journal, I approached this duality. To reach the island we boarded a motor that we share with a partner, Alberto and Sweet, and two of his colleagues working. All but her were drunk after a week off and a week ahead of pit on site. The situation was more than comic, a rate barely able to maintain sitting balance and the other dying of laughter at him. At first trying to hide the intoxicated, but when we started to joke with them the laughter were constant in that boat full of happiness. Alberto, while, assumed and kept repeating "this is my wife and this my first child", his eyes shining with pride. It, meanwhile, smiled shyly and hid her baby, a few months, a blanket. "It is bad, do not know what has. At the hospital we were told that we give these medicines ", explains. He tenderly embraced.
The next morning we met Alberto at the hotel. The 40 minutes of boat we had become friends on the town and asked for your child. "He has spent the whole night crying and Sweet has gone with him to Vilankulos. We have given three days off to see what happens ", explains. "I hope they get well and return before we leave", we say.
During the three days we were there doing a photo story to a luxury hotel decided to visit the native community of the island. A place where lodges have built a school, wells and are building a small clinic. A place apart, fucking, where outside the natural paradise that is the environment there is little hope. People live sea, of agriculture and hotels. It seems that living near wind. Many were consuming alcohol is taken in the endless downtime of the island. The nearly 400 children living there now have a school where one of his five teachers told me: "We need everything, but most important is water. When no water we can not open " (Freshwater wells are sometimes filled with seawater and are for days useful). Most school supplies are donated also by the three small hotels Berenguerua. The school on this continent is much more a desire to progress a reality. The children attend classes that expire with the stomach. When are more adults realize that the horizon ends on literacy and re-take a plow with which to fill the tummy. In hotels there is a different mirror. A waiter salary, future care or guidance is. "Thanks to them we now have some work, some money and infrastructure ", I repeated several people. "Before we were ignorant", I said another, so innocently with that they have on these lands to verbalize their miseries without complex.
of the blue says very quietly "baby is gone" (the baby is gone). He says point-blank, as spitting sadness
The island dominated by a leader who must give the other to install someone to live there or you agree with the lodges of the community people who work every month on low-skilled jobs such as collecting firewood or clean the beaches. "Listen to the whole world their problems and then decide. Before the crisis the hotels hired 45 people each month to help, Now the deal is that they are about 30 ", Adolfo explains, I made of cicerone. It was an interesting evening when recorrerrimos the 11 miles of island roads impossible and we understood the relationship between tourism, reality and hope, something you know well in Spain. Tell one last story clarifying that kills many topics: “To you visitors like mushrooms and salads. To my surprise when it paid to eat. We like the chicken and fish. That is food. If when I get home to my parents took me some mushrooms thrown in the face. That what we take in the field”, Adolfo tells me perched on a huge sand dune from which includes the entire island and a beautiful sunset. Put this example roads, homes, mobile phones or televisions and erased many idyllic thoughts of people here are content living than they give the trees and is appalled by the progress (I will say more, because this issue would to discuss 30 folios).
The next morning I get up. I have to do some last photos. I see Albert, who works at the bar. I say if you can posarme for a photo with your cocktails. Joke. The guy smiles, but I noticed something strange. Still smiles all the time in helping me with photos. I have confidence in him and I keep calling vacilarle model or asking him to take the hair on one side. His smile seems distant, but I attribute it to shame. Then, two hours after, Natasa and I ordered two glasses of wine. Viene. He puts on the table and abruptly says in a whisper "baby is gone" (the baby is gone). He says point-blank, as spitting sadness, as we look to shake her hands compulsively. No loss of half smile even announcing that his son is dead. We embrace. What are you working? "He died last night and have buried this morning. It did not come. Tomorrow I will go to my house ". She sheds a tear, though his hands are swaying spasms that does not control. Is again placed behind the bar, with the body shrunk without losing half smile to a customer asks "What's going to take?”. He did all day. Not a tear, ni a bad gesture, although his only "baby is gone".
