I left too much and nothing at the same time. By “too much”, I mean almost all of my material possessions (except my laptop and some pieces of clothing), all the things and places I was attached to. By “nothing”, I mean that somehow I could detach myself from the things and places I loved.
The most disturbing thing about the train, is that it exists. That hundreds of Mauritanian workers and freelance merchants have to take it on a regular basis, like this, covered in dust and dirt. What for me was a one-off adventure, stuff to write stories about, for Mohamed and his family was just another commute to work.
I don’t know what bothers me more: the fact that more than half of these people, who navigate across the bay daily in decrepit wooden boats, cannot actually swim, or that I just saw a godzilla-sized rat lurking between the rocks by the water.
Assane and his two travel companions are driving an old pickup truck from Spain to Senegal. It is a lucrative business, for those who like extended road trips and do not mind a bit of bureaucratic hassle here and there. The pickup is loaded with all sorts of stuff, but they find space for my backpack on the top, and squeeze me in on the back seat.
I always estimated my average time of travelling with a companion without feeling the urge to murder them as two weeks.
One might call it a cave, others say – ‘underground chambers’. Around 500 euro and 5 months of digging – that’s what it takes to get yourself a habitable cave these days.
Pretty much all things I own have memories.
I spoke to several travellers from various countries around the world who live on a less ‘popular’ third-world passport and even try to travel with one. Hey wait, I am one of them!
Earthquake is something we can possibly predict but can hardly avoid. It is a force of omnipotent nature, and there is nothing we can possibly put against it but prayers to some ancient gods. But it is in our power to deal with the aftermath of this tragedy, and the consequences of a natural disaster will echo though the country for many years to come.
What’s bizarre, peculiar and fantastic about East African art, is the way traditional motifs are intertwined with absolutely modernist approach, folkloric patterns are sewn into the fabric of surrealism and imagination of the artists, and many installation are created with the recycled materials. All this is even more surprising if you consider that almost none of the members of the art community ever attended a formal art school – simply because those are non-existent in Kigali.