" There I did it ".- You're a little 'out of breath at the gate from which, in ten minutes, I embark for Milan. I was not sure of being able to get a connection Lisbon Milan. An hour of time between flights al'altro is not a lot, especially if my plane arrives from Dakar. Typically, flights from Dakar to arrive at least an hour late. Instead this time the Lisbon-Dakar flight arrived even earlier and I am ready to embark for Milan. I even have time to grab a coffee at the bar I see a few meters. That's nice to be in Europe! Withdrawal my secret out of his pocket and ordered a coffee Euro in broken English, when I asked a bartender if you prefer that Portuguese is spoken in English, French or Italian even. What a surprise, a real coffee! O bliss-a-coffee-Italian after nearly two weeks of Nescaffe and various concoctions! I can not help but think back to when, on previous occasions, I got a laugh on the mania of the Italians to seek an Italian coffee in all parts of the world ... Among
flight and travel from Milan to Turin in front of me three, four hours to think and understand for example why I continue to go to Africa, what drives me in this almost missionary to me that are so deeply allergic to religion. Because, despite my quiet nature and a bit 'lazy, I take my body (which does not want to know to move from the sofa in the living room), I put on a plane to Dakar, on various battered taxis, vans dilapidated carts horse around far and wide through the outskirts of Dakar, to remote regions of Casamance and the Fouta. All this at least once a year by 1998. What this trip, the seventh, the eighth? I take my passport and try to count the stamps of the Republic of Senegal; count them all and divide by two so I'll know how many times I went to Senegal. But they're calling my flight ... I have to go, it will be for another time. Fourteen
two divided by seven. This is my seventh trip to Senegal. I have been there several times, even eight ... I was already wondering why I go back to Africa. The question was buried by a mixture of curiosity, excitement and terror that comes over me when I'm on the plane, but now that I'm on the ground, into the shuttle Malpensa-Milan Central Station are relaxed enough to ask. This is not a simple question: there are things you do because there is a clear justification and rational. I go to the restaurant because I hunger, I see a friend because I want to do it, walk with Irene because I love talking to her while we walk. But going to Africa can not be explained simply. I try to rearrange ideas.
I am reminded of another journey, another pending a coincidence, this time in Brussels, I think in 1999. I think the words of Lucy, while discussing the fresh feelings of my second trip to Africa (for her was to be the third or fourth). I do not remember exactly, but the meaning was "in Africa is all a mess, the conditions are invilibili, but in Africa there is energy, there is a desire to stay together and grow, to talk late into the night. In Europe there are the most complex and powerful in the world, but that energy has gone off "
Already, energy. Maybe the conversation is born on my concept of "Africa emotional heart of the planet", but then my idea will ol'ho copied from someone else that do not even remember the name? It matters little, the concept I like and I did mine. I repeat it often and sometimes those around me, it assimilates and makes her just like I did. For example, I remember that time when, on the RER in Paris, Max was impressed by the overly emotional reaction to a Frenchman of color in front of what had just thrown up one of our traveling companion. At that moment I said "You're right, the Africans are very emotional ..." although I know that Max keeps me in the biggest consideration, I think this was the This time he voiced respect for me in the most obvious.
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