THIS MONTH LAST YEAR - 1

O mes de Janeiro do ano passado neste blog fica marcado como o mes mais ‘produtivo’ nesta minha ainda curta, mas que parece ja’ tao longa, vida de ‘blogger’: 52 ‘posts’!
Um record que se mantem ate’ hoje (e que, sinceramente, nao pretendo bater…), contrastando completamente com o ‘output’ do mes que hoje termina, com apenas 21 ‘posts’, em parte porque “me permiti” ficar sem ‘postar’ durante uma semana, o que nao me lembro de ter feito antes e que pretendo fazer mais vezes daqui para a frente.

Durante aquele mes, apresentei aqui os mais variados temas, incluindo danca e musica tradicional e urbana angolana; poetas e musicos de outras partes do mundo, com destaque para Adelia Prado e Grover Washington Jr.; a perturbadora politica nazi em relacao a ‘musica negra’; as ‘malambas’ do regresso de ‘diasporenses’ a terra mae; as makas do BB UK; o World Social Forum num Kenya ainda longe do actual descalabro; os passamentos de Mesquitela Lima e de Joseph Ki-Zerbo; textos de Mia Couto; apresentacao de livros, com destaque para “O Livro dos Rios” de Luandino Vieira e “Ignorancia” de Milan Kundera; tributos a ‘mulheres de substancia’ como Nina Simone, Wangari Maathai, Ophra Winfrey e Bessie Head; a critica a “formula Wade de combate a pobreza em Africa”; artigos historicos sobre o massacre da Baixa de Kassange; um ensaio sobre a literatura angolana; a catastrofica epoca chuvosa, por entre expulsoes e demolicoes de habitacoes, em Luanda e a preocupante degradacao do Mussulo; nao esquecendo, obviamente (como o poderia?), as inestimaveis contribuicoes de Jose’ Alcada, meu “correspondente oficial” em Angola (reportando do Lwena, Kwanza Sul e Luanda, com passagens por Hollywood, Paris e uma pitada de noz de Kabinda a mistura) que, infelizmente, teve que se ‘reformar’ destas lides bloguisticas… que saudade!

Enfim, foi um mes “cheio”, a varios titulos. Mas, se me perguntarem qual foi a “highlight” do mes, direi sem hesitacao: o encontro com dois dos melhores amigos deste blog desde entao: Sailor Girl (Atlantico e Luanda Azul) e Denudado (A Materia do Tempo)! Duas pessoas que, para mim, continuam a representar o que de melhor a blogosfera tem para oferecer, se tivermos a sorte de o encontrar: a descoberta da amizade, da solidariedade, da partilha, enfim da humanidade no seu sentido mais nobre, mesmo nos momentos mais dificeis, sobretudo nestes, e apesar das diferencas de opiniao que ocasionalmente nos possam separar.

Esses sao, quanto a mim, os valores essenciais que conferem o necessario grau de competencia comunicativa para a valorizacao de um qualquer conceito de “comunidade lusofona”, ou de qualquer outra comunidade linguistica, num mundo cada vez mais globalizado e competitivo. Porque, ao fim e ao cabo, de que serve uma lingua comum se ela por si so’ nao se demonstra capaz de facilitar a comunicacao efectiva e o respeito mutuo entre os seus utentes?
Para eles aqui fica, mais uma vez, aquele abraco!

O mes de Janeiro do ano passado neste blog fica marcado como o mes mais ‘produtivo’ nesta minha ainda curta, mas que parece ja’ tao longa, vida de ‘blogger’: 52 ‘posts’!
Um record que se mantem ate’ hoje (e que, sinceramente, nao pretendo bater…), contrastando completamente com o ‘output’ do mes que hoje termina, com apenas 21 ‘posts’, em parte porque “me permiti” ficar sem ‘postar’ durante uma semana, o que nao me lembro de ter feito antes e que pretendo fazer mais vezes daqui para a frente.

Durante aquele mes, apresentei aqui os mais variados temas, incluindo danca e musica tradicional e urbana angolana; poetas e musicos de outras partes do mundo, com destaque para Adelia Prado e Grover Washington Jr.; a perturbadora politica nazi em relacao a ‘musica negra’; as ‘malambas’ do regresso de ‘diasporenses’ a terra mae; as makas do BB UK; o World Social Forum num Kenya ainda longe do actual descalabro; os passamentos de Mesquitela Lima e de Joseph Ki-Zerbo; textos de Mia Couto; apresentacao de livros, com destaque para “O Livro dos Rios” de Luandino Vieira e “Ignorancia” de Milan Kundera; tributos a ‘mulheres de substancia’ como Nina Simone, Wangari Maathai, Ophra Winfrey e Bessie Head; a critica a “formula Wade de combate a pobreza em Africa”; artigos historicos sobre o massacre da Baixa de Kassange; um ensaio sobre a literatura angolana; a catastrofica epoca chuvosa, por entre expulsoes e demolicoes de habitacoes, em Luanda e a preocupante degradacao do Mussulo; nao esquecendo, obviamente (como o poderia?), as inestimaveis contribuicoes de Jose’ Alcada, meu “correspondente oficial” em Angola (reportando do Lwena, Kwanza Sul e Luanda, com passagens por Hollywood, Paris e uma pitada de noz de Kabinda a mistura) que, infelizmente, teve que se ‘reformar’ destas lides bloguisticas… que saudade!

Enfim, foi um mes “cheio”, a varios titulos. Mas, se me perguntarem qual foi a “highlight” do mes, direi sem hesitacao: o encontro com dois dos melhores amigos deste blog desde entao: Sailor Girl (Atlantico e Luanda Azul) e Denudado (A Materia do Tempo)! Duas pessoas que, para mim, continuam a representar o que de melhor a blogosfera tem para oferecer, se tivermos a sorte de o encontrar: a descoberta da amizade, da solidariedade, da partilha, enfim da humanidade no seu sentido mais nobre, mesmo nos momentos mais dificeis, sobretudo nestes, e apesar das diferencas de opiniao que ocasionalmente nos possam separar.

Esses sao, quanto a mim, os valores essenciais que conferem o necessario grau de competencia comunicativa para a valorizacao de um qualquer conceito de “comunidade lusofona”, ou de qualquer outra comunidade linguistica, num mundo cada vez mais globalizado e competitivo. Porque, ao fim e ao cabo, de que serve uma lingua comum se ela por si so’ nao se demonstra capaz de facilitar a comunicacao efectiva e o respeito mutuo entre os seus utentes?
Para eles aqui fica, mais uma vez, aquele abraco!

ANGOLA: TEMA PARA DEBATE

Acabo de receber de Luanda, por email, o artigo abaixo e a musica de Dog Murras a que ele se refere. Apesar de assinado por Tchize’ dos Santos, filha do Presidente Eduardo dos Santos, parece nao haver certeza absoluta de que ela tera’ sido efectivamente a sua autora – o que tambem nao me e’ possivel, por agora, confirmar, uma vez que nao ha’ nele qualquer indicacao da sua publicacao em orgaos de comunicacao formais.
De qualquer modo, a abordagem que nele se faz do tema, bem como o conteudo da musica a que se refere, merecem certamente reflexao e… debate!
Vamos a isso?

Angola (Dog Murras)

ARTIGO DE TCHIZÉ DOS SANTOS EM RESPOSTA À´MUSICA DO DOG MURRAS

Ouvi recentemente a polémica música do cantor Dog Murras e como jornalista, não pude ficar indiferente à sua letra.

Creio que o Dog Murras canta algumas verdades, mas como figura de referência que é, não devia fomentar a desunião e a frustração que todo o povo angolano vive, no anseio por uma angola reconstruida e totalmente recuperada da guerra, onde todos os nossos filhos possam ir à escola e onde já não teremos as "diarreias" de que ele fala e que todos nós já tivemos. Mas o próprio Dog Murras há de saber que não se constroi um apaís em 5 anos, nem em 10.

Ninguém gosta de ser relembrado que vive num país com difiuldades, estradas esburacadas, paludismo e outros problemas, aos quais estão expostos TODOS os angolanos, RICOS E POBRES. Todos passamos pelos mesmos buracos e todos sofremos no mesmo trânsito no dia-a-dia, Ricos e Pobres. E todos continuamos a amar a nossa Angola, Ricos e Pobres. Temos é que trabalhar UNIDOS por uma angola melhor e por um futuro melhor para os nossos filhos, ricos ou pobres. E para esquecer as "malambas", então juntamo-nos ao fim-de semana e dançamos os Kuduros do momento que geralmente, esperamos que nos entretenham e nos façam esquecer os problemas, ao invês de nos frustrar ainda mais.

É preciso entender que os obstáculos fazem parte do percurso e que os "engraxadores", "bajuladores", os "Kotas Bosses", e outros delinquentes do colarinho branco, existem em todas as sociedades e passam por cima de outros cidadãos, ricos ou pobres. É o dia-a-dia da batalha pelo ganha pão. A discrepância social infelizmente é um mal global que temos que combater, JUNTOS, e não desunidos e odiando-nos uns aos outros e fomentando o ódio, ou criando bodes espiatórios como os emigrantes estrangeiros ou os ricos, que na sua maioria um dia também foram pobres.

O problema é que infelizmente alguns "pseudo-novos-ricos" angolanos esquecem as suas origens e querem passar por cima do seu vizinho que saiu do mesmo bairro e acham que têm direito a tudo na lei da força. Isto é que tem que acabar, pois o dinheiro e o poder não identificam um ser humano. Os seus valores sim o caracterizam, fazendo dele um bom ou mau angolano.

[Continue a ler aqui]

Dog Murras & Os Ricos

Acabo de receber de Luanda, por email, o artigo abaixo e a musica de Dog Murras a que ele se refere. Apesar de assinado por Tchize’ dos Santos, filha do Presidente Eduardo dos Santos, parece nao haver certeza absoluta de que ela tera’ sido efectivamente a sua autora – o que tambem nao me e’ possivel, por agora, confirmar, uma vez que nao ha’ nele qualquer indicacao da sua publicacao em orgaos de comunicacao formais.
De qualquer modo, a abordagem que nele se faz do tema, bem como o conteudo da musica a que se refere, merecem certamente reflexao e… debate!
Vamos a isso?

Angola (Dog Murras)

ARTIGO DE TCHIZÉ DOS SANTOS EM RESPOSTA À´MUSICA DO DOG MURRAS

Ouvi recentemente a polémica música do cantor Dog Murras e como jornalista, não pude ficar indiferente à sua letra.

Creio que o Dog Murras canta algumas verdades, mas como figura de referência que é, não devia fomentar a desunião e a frustração que todo o povo angolano vive, no anseio por uma angola reconstruida e totalmente recuperada da guerra, onde todos os nossos filhos possam ir à escola e onde já não teremos as "diarreias" de que ele fala e que todos nós já tivemos. Mas o próprio Dog Murras há de saber que não se constroi um apaís em 5 anos, nem em 10.

Ninguém gosta de ser relembrado que vive num país com difiuldades, estradas esburacadas, paludismo e outros problemas, aos quais estão expostos TODOS os angolanos, RICOS E POBRES. Todos passamos pelos mesmos buracos e todos sofremos no mesmo trânsito no dia-a-dia, Ricos e Pobres. E todos continuamos a amar a nossa Angola, Ricos e Pobres. Temos é que trabalhar UNIDOS por uma angola melhor e por um futuro melhor para os nossos filhos, ricos ou pobres. E para esquecer as "malambas", então juntamo-nos ao fim-de semana e dançamos os Kuduros do momento que geralmente, esperamos que nos entretenham e nos façam esquecer os problemas, ao invês de nos frustrar ainda mais.

É preciso entender que os obstáculos fazem parte do percurso e que os "engraxadores", "bajuladores", os "Kotas Bosses", e outros delinquentes do colarinho branco, existem em todas as sociedades e passam por cima de outros cidadãos, ricos ou pobres. É o dia-a-dia da batalha pelo ganha pão. A discrepância social infelizmente é um mal global que temos que combater, JUNTOS, e não desunidos e odiando-nos uns aos outros e fomentando o ódio, ou criando bodes espiatórios como os emigrantes estrangeiros ou os ricos, que na sua maioria um dia também foram pobres.

O problema é que infelizmente alguns "pseudo-novos-ricos" angolanos esquecem as suas origens e querem passar por cima do seu vizinho que saiu do mesmo bairro e acham que têm direito a tudo na lei da força. Isto é que tem que acabar, pois o dinheiro e o poder não identificam um ser humano. Os seus valores sim o caracterizam, fazendo dele um bom ou mau angolano.

[Continue a ler aqui]

Dog Murras & Os Ricos

NEW POLL

After a much needed break, I’m back to this (crazy) blogging business, hoping - I’m always hopeful, you see, even if not always trustful,always hopeful :) - to count on your input to shape things to come on this blog.

So, I set up a multiple-choice poll to that effect.

You can find it at the “polling station” down the ‘side bar’.

If your preferences are other than the options offered, please feel free to use the comments’ space in this post to mention them or to make any other suggestions.

Thanks in advance for your participation.

Depois de um bem precisado intervalo, estou de volta a este (louco) negocio do ‘blogging’, esperando – como veem, mesmo se nem sempre confiando, tenho sempre esperanca :) – poder contar com a vossa contribuicao para a tematica deste blog nos proximos tempos.

Para esse efeito, elaborei um questionario de escolha multipla que poderao encontrar na ‘side bar’.

Caso as suas preferencias sejam outras que as opcoes oferecidas, podera’ usar o espaco de comentarios desta postagem para as indicar ou para fazer quaisquer outras sugestoes.

Os meus agradecimentos antecipados pela vossa participacao.

P.S.: As perguntas na ‘pollig station’ estao em Ingles, mas para sua conveniencia aqui fica a sua traducao em Portugues:

CONTEUDO

Que temas mais lhe interessam:

1. Politica
2. Economia
3. Historia
4. Cultura
5. Assuntos Correntes
6. Outros

MUSICA

Qual o seu preferido genero musical:

1. Jazz
2. Musica Africana
3. Musica Classica
4. Outros

AREAS

Sobre que areas geograficas gostaria de ler com mais frequencia:

1. Africa
2. Europa
3. Americas
4. Outras

LINGUA

Em que lingua prefere ler:

1. Portugues
2. Ingles

After a much needed break, I’m back to this (crazy) blogging business, hoping - I’m always hopeful, you see, even if not always trustful,always hopeful :) - to count on your input to shape things to come on this blog.

So, I set up a multiple-choice poll to that effect.

You can find it at the “polling station” down the ‘side bar’.

If your preferences are other than the options offered, please feel free to use the comments’ space in this post to mention them or to make any other suggestions.

Thanks in advance for your participation.

Depois de um bem precisado intervalo, estou de volta a este (louco) negocio do ‘blogging’, esperando – como veem, mesmo se nem sempre confiando, tenho sempre esperanca :) – poder contar com a vossa contribuicao para a tematica deste blog nos proximos tempos.

Para esse efeito, elaborei um questionario de escolha multipla que poderao encontrar na ‘side bar’.

Caso as suas preferencias sejam outras que as opcoes oferecidas, podera’ usar o espaco de comentarios desta postagem para as indicar ou para fazer quaisquer outras sugestoes.

Os meus agradecimentos antecipados pela vossa participacao.

P.S.: As perguntas na ‘pollig station’ estao em Ingles, mas para sua conveniencia aqui fica a sua traducao em Portugues:

CONTEUDO

Que temas mais lhe interessam:

1. Politica
2. Economia
3. Historia
4. Cultura
5. Assuntos Correntes
6. Outros

MUSICA

Qual o seu preferido genero musical:

1. Jazz
2. Musica Africana
3. Musica Classica
4. Outros

AREAS

Sobre que areas geograficas gostaria de ler com mais frequencia:

1. Africa
2. Europa
3. Americas
4. Outras

LINGUA

Em que lingua prefere ler:

1. Portugues
2. Ingles

LOCAL VOICES OFFLINE (5)

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

In a month when, if alive, that icon of many a feminist across the western world, Simone de Beauvoir, would’ve completed a hundred years of age, it seemed to me particularly interesting to follow this series with parliamentary speeches on gender equality and the rights of women.

The two speeches I’ve selected for today feature Clare Short, former MP and member of the Blair Cabinet – from which she notoriously resigned over her opposition to the war in Iraq. She also made some waves recently when criticising Baroness Amos's indication as the UK representative to the Lisbon EU-Africa Summit , having described her as “a pseudo-minister who was sent to Lisbon because she’s black” (which perhaps feeds into that other debate about “feminism across races”…).

Interestingly enough, Short’s statement was depicted in some sectors of the "lusosphere" as “proof of British racism” (not as “proof of Short’s racism”, if at all…) – a reasoning I’m still struggling to work out, particularly when bearing in mind that it came from citizens of a European country which is far from promoting any meaningful representation of their Black population in any instances of power, let alone having a Black woman, as Amos, in government or as the leader of the House of Lords, or anything equivalent. But that’s beside the point of today’s speeches…

In the first, the issue of equal pay for women is almost overshadowed by something the British Parliament is notorious for, namely sobriety or the lack thereof… In the second, an issue at the heart of the ‘media and social representation of women’ debate, namely the infamous ‘page three girls’, i.e. pictures of semi-naked women on the third page of British tabloids (though arguably more palatable than the naked pictures of women displayed in some ‘respectable’ blogs nowadays…). To be sure, this is an issue far from reuniting women’s consensus – as the open defense of her ‘page three girls’ by current editor of the Sun Newspaper, Rebekah Wade, during a parliamentary hearing earlier this week left patently clear…

Alan Clark and Women



ALAN CLARK’s first speech as a Minister was a disaster. As junior Employment Minister he had to present some rather complicated regulations on equal pay for women; but, as he confesses in his diary, he had been to a wine tasting, where he sampled ’61 Palmer, ’75 Palmer, and ’61 Pichon Longueville. By 9:40 p.m. he was “muzzy”. Rising at 10:30, he implied disdain for the brief he was reading (“as I started, the sheer odiousness of the text sank in”). So he speeded up. MPs challenged him to explain what he meant – and then CLARE SHORT, one of several MPs present, said he was drunk. The Deputy Speaker, ERNEST ARMSTRONG, extricated Mr Clark from his predicament, but the business was nearly lost. (20/7/83)

Page Three Girls



The Labour MP CLARE SHORT ran a campaign to make “Page Three Girls” illegal. Many women wrote to support her. But when she moved her ten-minute rule bill – the Indecent Displays (Newspapers) Bill – her gutsy speech was frequently barracked by mocking Tory MPs. The bill was opposed by Robert Adley (“this bill deserves the booby prize”), received a majority in favour, but went no further. (12/3/86)

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

In a month when, if alive, that icon of many a feminist across the western world, Simone de Beauvoir, would’ve completed a hundred years of age, it seemed to me particularly interesting to follow this series with parliamentary speeches on gender equality and the rights of women.

The two speeches I’ve selected for today feature Clare Short, former MP and member of the Blair Cabinet – from which she notoriously resigned over her opposition to the war in Iraq. She also made some waves recently when criticising Baroness Amos's indication as the UK representative to the Lisbon EU-Africa Summit , having described her as “a pseudo-minister who was sent to Lisbon because she’s black” (which perhaps feeds into that other debate about “feminism across races”…).

Interestingly enough, Short’s statement was depicted in some sectors of the "lusosphere" as “proof of British racism” (not as “proof of Short’s racism”, if at all…) – a reasoning I’m still struggling to work out, particularly when bearing in mind that it came from citizens of a European country which is far from promoting any meaningful representation of their Black population in any instances of power, let alone having a Black woman, as Amos, in government or as the leader of the House of Lords, or anything equivalent. But that’s beside the point of today’s speeches…

In the first, the issue of equal pay for women is almost overshadowed by something the British Parliament is notorious for, namely sobriety or the lack thereof… In the second, an issue at the heart of the ‘media and social representation of women’ debate, namely the infamous ‘page three girls’, i.e. pictures of semi-naked women on the third page of British tabloids (though arguably more palatable than the naked pictures of women displayed in some ‘respectable’ blogs nowadays…). To be sure, this is an issue far from reuniting women’s consensus – as the open defense of her ‘page three girls’ by current editor of the Sun Newspaper, Rebekah Wade, during a parliamentary hearing earlier this week left patently clear…

Alan Clark and Women



ALAN CLARK’s first speech as a Minister was a disaster. As junior Employment Minister he had to present some rather complicated regulations on equal pay for women; but, as he confesses in his diary, he had been to a wine tasting, where he sampled ’61 Palmer, ’75 Palmer, and ’61 Pichon Longueville. By 9:40 p.m. he was “muzzy”. Rising at 10:30, he implied disdain for the brief he was reading (“as I started, the sheer odiousness of the text sank in”). So he speeded up. MPs challenged him to explain what he meant – and then CLARE SHORT, one of several MPs present, said he was drunk. The Deputy Speaker, ERNEST ARMSTRONG, extricated Mr Clark from his predicament, but the business was nearly lost. (20/7/83)

Page Three Girls



The Labour MP CLARE SHORT ran a campaign to make “Page Three Girls” illegal. Many women wrote to support her. But when she moved her ten-minute rule bill – the Indecent Displays (Newspapers) Bill – her gutsy speech was frequently barracked by mocking Tory MPs. The bill was opposed by Robert Adley (“this bill deserves the booby prize”), received a majority in favour, but went no further. (12/3/86)

GIL SCOTT HERON ON MARTIN LUTHER KING DAY

I received this info. from someone in Stockholm and hope it can be useful to someone in New York. It’s about the ‘daring’ Gil Scott Heron – who I’ve once seen perform at the Jazz Café here in London and have “implicitly mentioned” in this post when talking about “this revolution won’t be televised”. He is going to be the centerpiece at one of the main events of this year’s Martin Luther King Day celebrations to take place tomorrow in the US.

Dare to Think! Dare to Speak! Dare to Sing! Dare to Dream!

Enjoy the Day!

I received this info. from someone in Stockholm and hope it can be useful to someone in New York. It’s about the ‘daring’ Gil Scott Heron – who I’ve once seen perform at the Jazz Café here in London and have “implicitly mentioned” in this post when talking about “this revolution won’t be televised”. He is going to be the centerpiece at one of the main events of this year’s Martin Luther King Day celebrations to take place tomorrow in the US.

Dare to Think! Dare to Speak! Dare to Sing! Dare to Dream!

Enjoy the Day!

"SAO PAULO FASHION WEEK GREAT FOR WHITE GIRLS"

That’s how the blog ‘Gridskipper’ echoes a BBC report on alleged racism at that fashion event in Brazil.

According to the report, Helder Dias, the owner of one agency that promotes the work of black models says slavery may have been abolished long ago in Brazil but the shadow is lengthy. "It is like abolition never existed. It is a facade and the history continues. The black models can't get jobs and have no access, don't have a good distribution of money or earnings and live in a sub-world, because there are no job opportunities," he said.

"I think this reflects Brazil's social exclusion," says Paulo Borges, the man behind Sao Paulo Fashion Week. "I think fashion works with a wide range of profiles and a wide range of aesthetic qualities. There are several black models who do shows, and there aren't more because I believe the history of the black race in Brazil is still about having little access."

The report concludes that "there seems little doubt that the major fashion weeks here have brought some distinctive Brazilian flair and excitement to the industry. But it appears those who want to see the public face of fashion here truly reflect the diversity of this society may have to wait some time."

That’s how the blog ‘Gridskipper’ echoes a BBC report on alleged racism at that fashion event in Brazil.

According to the report, Helder Dias, the owner of one agency that promotes the work of black models says slavery may have been abolished long ago in Brazil but the shadow is lengthy. "It is like abolition never existed. It is a facade and the history continues. The black models can't get jobs and have no access, don't have a good distribution of money or earnings and live in a sub-world, because there are no job opportunities," he said.

"I think this reflects Brazil's social exclusion," says Paulo Borges, the man behind Sao Paulo Fashion Week. "I think fashion works with a wide range of profiles and a wide range of aesthetic qualities. There are several black models who do shows, and there aren't more because I believe the history of the black race in Brazil is still about having little access."

The report concludes that "there seems little doubt that the major fashion weeks here have brought some distinctive Brazilian flair and excitement to the industry. But it appears those who want to see the public face of fashion here truly reflect the diversity of this society may have to wait some time."

REPORTING ON KENYA

If you are a blogger who, like me, has been following the continuing crisis in Kenya through what those closer to the events have been reporting both in conventional media and the blogosphere, or if you’re just a regular reader, it would be a good idea to follow the links BRE put together in this great roundup at Jewels in the Jungle and is keeping updated since the beginning of the month.

If you are a blogger who, like me, has been following the continuing crisis in Kenya through what those closer to the events have been reporting both in conventional media and the blogosphere, or if you’re just a regular reader, it would be a good idea to follow the links BRE put together in this great roundup at Jewels in the Jungle and is keeping updated since the beginning of the month.

AN INTRODUCTION TO CAPOEIRA ANGOLA (III)

HISTORY, CULTURE, POLITICS & THE INTERACTION OF MUSIC AND DANCE IN CAPOEIRA ANGOLA

The call to play capoeira comes from the gunga, the deepest of the berimbaus, in the hands of the teacher or mestre of the roda. The first strokes on the steel cord reverberate clear and certain until the rhythm is set, pulling at the muscles and bones of all who play. Patient, relentless, the rhythm is there below the skin, slightly moving the bodies of those who have dedicated the best part of their lives to the game. No one sways, there is no exuberant dance, just the irresistible rhythm which draws them time after time to the foot of the mestre.
(...)

Finally the tone changes. The mestre of the roda sings the first lines of a familiar song, and the entire roda sings back in response. The corridos, songs for the game, signal that the time has come for the testing – this dangerous play of deception, concealment, calm, and happiness. Driven by the rhythm of the music and the energy of the singing, the players slowly begin to probe each other, learn about the movements and mind of the other. They lean onto their hands and move in the roda, holding their weight on their arms. One pivots around on one foot, his other leg outstretched in a rabo d’arraia – the “stingray’s tail” – walking his hands patiently around and swinging his leg purposefully toward his companion. The other player rolls even closer to the ground, accompanying the direction of the kick, the heel passing close, turning over to free his own leg for a counterattack. They weave around each other patiently on the floor.
(...)

Clip from "Let the circle be unbroken" - 2006 (PT/EN)

Perhaps it is also the last, its rhythm always teaching the student able to hear, always revealing new movements, new possibilities. In the music of Capoeira Angola can be heard not only the traces of the game’s movements – spinning, kicking, retreating, attacking – but also the weight and wisdom of all of these years spent in “idleness,” the traditional name for capoeira. The berimbau is calling to this brutal, beautiful dance, this warrior’s game, this long song of playing – smiling – in the face of a ruthless and unmerciful world.

(...)

{Keep Reading Here}

HISTORY, CULTURE, POLITICS & THE INTERACTION OF MUSIC AND DANCE IN CAPOEIRA ANGOLA

The call to play capoeira comes from the gunga, the deepest of the berimbaus, in the hands of the teacher or mestre of the roda. The first strokes on the steel cord reverberate clear and certain until the rhythm is set, pulling at the muscles and bones of all who play. Patient, relentless, the rhythm is there below the skin, slightly moving the bodies of those who have dedicated the best part of their lives to the game. No one sways, there is no exuberant dance, just the irresistible rhythm which draws them time after time to the foot of the mestre.
(...)

Finally the tone changes. The mestre of the roda sings the first lines of a familiar song, and the entire roda sings back in response. The corridos, songs for the game, signal that the time has come for the testing – this dangerous play of deception, concealment, calm, and happiness. Driven by the rhythm of the music and the energy of the singing, the players slowly begin to probe each other, learn about the movements and mind of the other. They lean onto their hands and move in the roda, holding their weight on their arms. One pivots around on one foot, his other leg outstretched in a rabo d’arraia – the “stingray’s tail” – walking his hands patiently around and swinging his leg purposefully toward his companion. The other player rolls even closer to the ground, accompanying the direction of the kick, the heel passing close, turning over to free his own leg for a counterattack. They weave around each other patiently on the floor.
(...)

Clip from "Let the circle be unbroken" - 2006 (PT/EN)

Perhaps it is also the last, its rhythm always teaching the student able to hear, always revealing new movements, new possibilities. In the music of Capoeira Angola can be heard not only the traces of the game’s movements – spinning, kicking, retreating, attacking – but also the weight and wisdom of all of these years spent in “idleness,” the traditional name for capoeira. The berimbau is calling to this brutal, beautiful dance, this warrior’s game, this long song of playing – smiling – in the face of a ruthless and unmerciful world.

(...)

{Keep Reading Here}

SOBRE 'A SUAVE PATRIA' DE INOCENCIA MATA

CRÍTICAS DE LONGE…

Por Augusto Nascimento

Este livro é uma colectânea de crónicas e artigos de opinião sobre o presente em São Tomé e Príncipe, difundidas pela RDP (Rádio Difusão Portuguesa) África, estação emissora escutada no arquipélago. Alguns dos textos são especialmente sugestivos. Uns abordam temas políticos, outros versam questões culturais, matéria à qual a autora dedica muita atenção. Noutros, ainda, valoriza-se a diáspora.

Dos vários tópicos referentes à política, destaquem-se a cultura e as práticas políticas num país insular com o petróleo no horizonte, o papel das elites e, ainda, a abertura do espaço político à participação cívica das populações. A autora põe em evidência os atropelos do Estado às liberdades dos cidadãos, distinguindo, como outros académicos, multipartidarismo de democracia, a qual requer um exercício pleno de uma "cidadania civil" (p. 28). Inocência Mata atribui esses atropelos à cultura política prevalecente que, insinua, não pode deixar de estar enviesada pelo facto de os protagonistas de hoje serem os mesmos de um passado autoritário recente. Ou a outras circunstâncias, como, por exemplo, a prevalência em S. Tomé e Príncipe da "ditadura da familiocracia" (p. 50). Mais relevante, a autora foca as causas do desânimo dos são-tomenses, a saber, o rumo da democracia (ou do multipartidarismo) e a prevalência da corrupção.

(…)

A cultura--ou os traços culturais--é a alavanca a partir da qual Mata pensa
o curso da política no seu país. Mas não se detém na vertente política.
Aborda também as outras facetas culturais, entre elas, as línguas, algumas
das quais destinadas a perecer. Como sucede frequentemente nos autores
situados nos espaços diaspóricos, a autora tende a transmitir uma visão da
cultura da terra de origem como uma plataforma de remissão e um repositório
de autenticidade necessária para a regeneração das práticas políticas.

Assim, algumas ideias romantizadas alternam com cruas constatações. Outras
ideias correm apressadas, dir-se-ia, atrás do propósito da denúncia, umas
vezes, desassombrada, outras, contida. Dessa motivação terão resultado
algumas imprecisões: por exemplo, não foi só depois da inflexão neo-liberal
que o Estado se demitiu da promoção da educação, da cultura e da língua.
Trata-se de uma constatação alinhavada a partir da observação da degradação
das políticas culturais comummente associada à mudança política de inícios
dos anos 90. Porém, em bom rigor, essa degradação já era visível no regime
monopartidário.

Na verdade, dado o apriorismo de que as receitas neo-liberais são
necessariamente adversas aos africanos--qual extensão da dominação de
outrora!, pensa-se--parece fácil censurar essa demissão do Estado e
imputá-la ao rumo neo-liberal dos anos 90. Talvez também (por motivação
afectiva, alvitrar-se-ia, e) por razões ideológicas, a autora não vislumbra
a instrumentalização, primeiro, e a demissão, depois, do papel do Estado
monopartidário na dinamização cultural. De resto, em S. Tomé e Príncipe,
como em toda a parte, o âmbito e as modalidades de intervenção dos Estados
nesse domínio são sempre muito discutíveis.

(…)

Em suma, este livro tem que ser lido como parte do movimento de recriação
cultural próprio das diásporas, neste caso, com acentuado pendor crítico
dada a recente história do país e a forte politização dos projectos sociais
associados à independência. O livro contém análises lúcidas. Contudo,
também por espelharem estados de alma, os textos mostram cedências.
Alvitram-se possibilidades e vias futuras, que a análise fria e
afectivamente desapegada não autoriza a inferir como prováveis, antes pelo
contrário. Fala-se de participação cívica, de criação de um debate, de pacificação
social e política, de mobilização da diáspora. A ver vamos.

[Texto integral aqui]

Copyright (c) 2007 by H-Net, all rights reserved.

CRÍTICAS DE LONGE…

Por Augusto Nascimento

Este livro é uma colectânea de crónicas e artigos de opinião sobre o presente em São Tomé e Príncipe, difundidas pela RDP (Rádio Difusão Portuguesa) África, estação emissora escutada no arquipélago. Alguns dos textos são especialmente sugestivos. Uns abordam temas políticos, outros versam questões culturais, matéria à qual a autora dedica muita atenção. Noutros, ainda, valoriza-se a diáspora.

Dos vários tópicos referentes à política, destaquem-se a cultura e as práticas políticas num país insular com o petróleo no horizonte, o papel das elites e, ainda, a abertura do espaço político à participação cívica das populações. A autora põe em evidência os atropelos do Estado às liberdades dos cidadãos, distinguindo, como outros académicos, multipartidarismo de democracia, a qual requer um exercício pleno de uma "cidadania civil" (p. 28). Inocência Mata atribui esses atropelos à cultura política prevalecente que, insinua, não pode deixar de estar enviesada pelo facto de os protagonistas de hoje serem os mesmos de um passado autoritário recente. Ou a outras circunstâncias, como, por exemplo, a prevalência em S. Tomé e Príncipe da "ditadura da familiocracia" (p. 50). Mais relevante, a autora foca as causas do desânimo dos são-tomenses, a saber, o rumo da democracia (ou do multipartidarismo) e a prevalência da corrupção.

(…)

A cultura--ou os traços culturais--é a alavanca a partir da qual Mata pensa
o curso da política no seu país. Mas não se detém na vertente política.
Aborda também as outras facetas culturais, entre elas, as línguas, algumas
das quais destinadas a perecer. Como sucede frequentemente nos autores
situados nos espaços diaspóricos, a autora tende a transmitir uma visão da
cultura da terra de origem como uma plataforma de remissão e um repositório
de autenticidade necessária para a regeneração das práticas políticas.

Assim, algumas ideias romantizadas alternam com cruas constatações. Outras
ideias correm apressadas, dir-se-ia, atrás do propósito da denúncia, umas
vezes, desassombrada, outras, contida. Dessa motivação terão resultado
algumas imprecisões: por exemplo, não foi só depois da inflexão neo-liberal
que o Estado se demitiu da promoção da educação, da cultura e da língua.
Trata-se de uma constatação alinhavada a partir da observação da degradação
das políticas culturais comummente associada à mudança política de inícios
dos anos 90. Porém, em bom rigor, essa degradação já era visível no regime
monopartidário.

Na verdade, dado o apriorismo de que as receitas neo-liberais são
necessariamente adversas aos africanos--qual extensão da dominação de
outrora!, pensa-se--parece fácil censurar essa demissão do Estado e
imputá-la ao rumo neo-liberal dos anos 90. Talvez também (por motivação
afectiva, alvitrar-se-ia, e) por razões ideológicas, a autora não vislumbra
a instrumentalização, primeiro, e a demissão, depois, do papel do Estado
monopartidário na dinamização cultural. De resto, em S. Tomé e Príncipe,
como em toda a parte, o âmbito e as modalidades de intervenção dos Estados
nesse domínio são sempre muito discutíveis.

(…)

Em suma, este livro tem que ser lido como parte do movimento de recriação
cultural próprio das diásporas, neste caso, com acentuado pendor crítico
dada a recente história do país e a forte politização dos projectos sociais
associados à independência. O livro contém análises lúcidas. Contudo,
também por espelharem estados de alma, os textos mostram cedências.
Alvitram-se possibilidades e vias futuras, que a análise fria e
afectivamente desapegada não autoriza a inferir como prováveis, antes pelo
contrário. Fala-se de participação cívica, de criação de um debate, de pacificação
social e política, de mobilização da diáspora. A ver vamos.

[Texto integral aqui]

Copyright (c) 2007 by H-Net, all rights reserved.

LOCAL VOICES OFFLINE - 4

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

Stolen Car

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

Stolen Car

NO PRIMEIRO ANIVERSARIO DA SUA MORTE: UMA HOMENAGEM A JOSEPH KI-ZERBO (Recidivus)*

A minha decisao de ‘re-postar’ este tributo a Joseph Ki-zerbo decorre de algumas afirmacoes feitas por um ou dois participantes nesta conversa de café…
Aconselharia a esses senhores uma pequena tentativa de se informarem um pouco melhor sobre a Cultura Bantu e a tradicao oral em Africa. A este proposito devo dizer-lhes, por exemplo, que as primeiras licoes que tive sobre a Historia do Reino do Kongo recebi-as da minha avo materna, que dele descendia. Algumas das estorias que ela me contou, fui-as encontrar mais tarde, com poucas ou nenhumas variacoes, por exmplo nos livros de Pelissier e na Monumenta Missionaria Africana do Padre Antonio Brazio…

Do mesmo modo, algumas das narrativas – algumas delas ainda por escrever – sobre o nacionalismo urbano angolano foram-me contadas pelo meu pai: aquele que espirrava sangue nas masmorras da PIDE quando eu nasci; o mesmo sangue que corria nas veias do homem que icou pela primeira vez a bandeira da RPA…
Nao sei quantos dos participantes daquela conversa poderao dizer que conhecem pelo menos 12 provincias do seu pais… ou pelo menos 14 paises Africanos… Eu posso-o.

Nao sei quantos dos mesmos participantes poderao dizer que viveram, desde que nasceram, imersos na cultura Africana – nao apenas que viveram ou vivem em Africa – isto e’, que foram nados e criados no seio de uma familia Africana, rindo seus risos, chorando suas lagrimas, comendo suas comidas, bebendo suas bebidas, ouvindo, cantando e dancando suas musicas durante toda a sua vida, mesmo quando temporariamente ausentes dos seus paises de origem… Eu vivo-o.

Nao me proponho, portanto, matricular-me em nenhuma ‘academia’ de um qualquer ‘parque jurassico’ para receber licoes de farmaceuticos radicados em Paris e de seus ajudantes de laboratorio radicados onde quer que seja, sobre os elementos mais rudimentares da Cultura e Historia de Africa. Nao precisaria sequer de invocar para tal o meu titulo de Mestre de Ciencia em Historia Economica e Economia do Desenvolvimento, com o grau de Merito, pelo departamento universitario mais credenciado em todo o mundo nessa area…

E porque, apesar de tudo isso, nao me proponho “re-escrever” a Historia de Africa, recomendo-lhes vivamente a leitura da obra de Joseph Ki-zerbo publicada sob a chancela da UNESCO, ficando-me apenas por esta referencia para nao os sobrecarregar com uma completa bibliografia obrigatoria.

Votos de boa leitura!

*****


COLÓQUIO HISTÓRIA E HISTORIADORES DA ÁFRICA

"Estranhamentos e intolerâncias têm sido a tônica nos encontros/confrontos do Velho com o Novo Mundo. Nesse processo, têm ficado à margem memórias, saberes, falares, viveres, códigos de escrita e de comunicação de povos de tradições ancestrais de oralidade – entre os quais contam-se ameríndios, africanos, filhos da diáspora e outros povos e culturas escravizados nas diversas fases da expansão das relações de mercado na modernidade européia.

A partir de resistências culturais limítrofes , visões de mundo, cosmogonias, relações entre cultura e natureza, expressões artísticas, concepções de corpo, estéticas, sensibilidades e religiosidades vêm rompendo barreiras, ainda que tenham sido historicamente ignoradas ou desconsideradas nos índices hierarquizadores de “raças” que pautam os cânones letrados e científicos ocidentais, que se pretenderam iluministas, racionais e progressistas. Vozes, sons, gestos e performances, inicialmente locais e fragmentários como expressões que são de “entre-lugares deslizantes” , não só renovaram e oxigenaram o estoque cultural dominante, como produziram identidades múltiplas, adensando suas reivindicações por autonomia, liberdades e reconhecimento de suas raízes e matrizes culturais, em lutas que reverberam no direito à memória e à história.

Pioneiro no empreendimento vital pelo direito à história dos povos e culturas subjugadas e silenciadas no universo do conhecimento eurocêntrico, Joseph Ki-Zerbo empenhou-se em invocar, demonstrar e lançar bases para a produção continuada e constantemente atualizada de uma História da África Negra."

(Continue a ler aqui)

*(Publicado inicialmente a 12/10/07)

A minha decisao de ‘re-postar’ este tributo a Joseph Ki-zerbo decorre de algumas afirmacoes feitas por um ou dois participantes nesta conversa de café…
Aconselharia a esses senhores uma pequena tentativa de se informarem um pouco melhor sobre a Cultura Bantu e a tradicao oral em Africa. A este proposito devo dizer-lhes, por exemplo, que as primeiras licoes que tive sobre a Historia do Reino do Kongo recebi-as da minha avo materna, que dele descendia. Algumas das estorias que ela me contou, fui-as encontrar mais tarde, com poucas ou nenhumas variacoes, por exmplo nos livros de Pelissier e na Monumenta Missionaria Africana do Padre Antonio Brazio…

Do mesmo modo, algumas das narrativas – algumas delas ainda por escrever – sobre o nacionalismo urbano angolano foram-me contadas pelo meu pai: aquele que espirrava sangue nas masmorras da PIDE quando eu nasci; o mesmo sangue que corria nas veias do homem que icou pela primeira vez a bandeira da RPA…
Nao sei quantos dos participantes daquela conversa poderao dizer que conhecem pelo menos 12 provincias do seu pais… ou pelo menos 14 paises Africanos… Eu posso-o.

Nao sei quantos dos mesmos participantes poderao dizer que viveram, desde que nasceram, imersos na cultura Africana – nao apenas que viveram ou vivem em Africa – isto e’, que foram nados e criados no seio de uma familia Africana, rindo seus risos, chorando suas lagrimas, comendo suas comidas, bebendo suas bebidas, ouvindo, cantando e dancando suas musicas durante toda a sua vida, mesmo quando temporariamente ausentes dos seus paises de origem… Eu vivo-o.

Nao me proponho, portanto, matricular-me em nenhuma ‘academia’ de um qualquer ‘parque jurassico’ para receber licoes de farmaceuticos radicados em Paris e de seus ajudantes de laboratorio radicados onde quer que seja, sobre os elementos mais rudimentares da Cultura e Historia de Africa. Nao precisaria sequer de invocar para tal o meu titulo de Mestre de Ciencia em Historia Economica e Economia do Desenvolvimento, com o grau de Merito, pelo departamento universitario mais credenciado em todo o mundo nessa area…

E porque, apesar de tudo isso, nao me proponho “re-escrever” a Historia de Africa, recomendo-lhes vivamente a leitura da obra de Joseph Ki-zerbo publicada sob a chancela da UNESCO, ficando-me apenas por esta referencia para nao os sobrecarregar com uma completa bibliografia obrigatoria.

Votos de boa leitura!

*****


COLÓQUIO HISTÓRIA E HISTORIADORES DA ÁFRICA

"Estranhamentos e intolerâncias têm sido a tônica nos encontros/confrontos do Velho com o Novo Mundo. Nesse processo, têm ficado à margem memórias, saberes, falares, viveres, códigos de escrita e de comunicação de povos de tradições ancestrais de oralidade – entre os quais contam-se ameríndios, africanos, filhos da diáspora e outros povos e culturas escravizados nas diversas fases da expansão das relações de mercado na modernidade européia.

A partir de resistências culturais limítrofes , visões de mundo, cosmogonias, relações entre cultura e natureza, expressões artísticas, concepções de corpo, estéticas, sensibilidades e religiosidades vêm rompendo barreiras, ainda que tenham sido historicamente ignoradas ou desconsideradas nos índices hierarquizadores de “raças” que pautam os cânones letrados e científicos ocidentais, que se pretenderam iluministas, racionais e progressistas. Vozes, sons, gestos e performances, inicialmente locais e fragmentários como expressões que são de “entre-lugares deslizantes” , não só renovaram e oxigenaram o estoque cultural dominante, como produziram identidades múltiplas, adensando suas reivindicações por autonomia, liberdades e reconhecimento de suas raízes e matrizes culturais, em lutas que reverberam no direito à memória e à história.

Pioneiro no empreendimento vital pelo direito à história dos povos e culturas subjugadas e silenciadas no universo do conhecimento eurocêntrico, Joseph Ki-Zerbo empenhou-se em invocar, demonstrar e lançar bases para a produção continuada e constantemente atualizada de uma História da África Negra."

(Continue a ler aqui)

*(Publicado inicialmente a 12/10/07)

REVISITING 'AMERICA BEHIND THE COLOR LINE'

Bellow are extracts from a reflection by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. on his acclaimed book America Behind the Color Line: Dialogues with African Americans, where he unveils, through in-depth interviews with a wide range of personalities, the Black America which emerged from the silent and pacific revolution wrought during the past four decades in the US by the Civil Rights movement and some of its offspring such as ‘affirmative action’ and ‘black economic empowerment’.

Written in 2004, it does not account, of course, for the twists and turns the public lives of some of his interviewees went through since then, most notably those of Colin Powell or Vernon Jordan, or for what some have already termed “the hurricane Obama” currently sweeping the American political landscape, or the alliance between ‘black money’ and ‘black political skill’ symbolised by Ophra Winfrey’s open support to Obama’s presidential campaign, thus moving Black America closer to reclaiming Dr. Martin Luther King’s dream – to use the subtitle to Obama’s book “The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream”. Yet, it is still worth a ‘revisitation’.

*****

Since 1963, we've had seventy-five black congressmen and congresswomen, two U.S. senators, a whole slew of mayors, and two Supreme Court justices, but only in the last few years have we penetrated the heart of executive political power in Washington. Just a generation ago, the idea of a black president was a joke we'd tell in barbershops. We figured that a black man could be king of England before he'd be elected president of the United States!

When I was growing up in the fifties, I could never have imagined that one of Harvard's most respected departments would be a Department of Afro-American Studies and that twenty professors would be teaching here at the turn of the century. Our experience at Harvard is just one instance of a much larger phenomenon. Since the death of Dr. Martin Luther King in 1968, individual African Americans have earned positions higher within white society than any person black or white could have dreamed possible in the segregated 1950s. And this is true in national and local government, in the military and in business, in medicine and education, on TV and in film. Virtually anywhere you look in America today, you'll find black people.
Not enough black people, but who can deny that progress has been made?

In fact, since 1968, the black middle class has tripled, as measured by the percentage of families earning $50,000 or more. At the same time-and this is the kicker-the percentage of black children who live at or below the poverty line is almost 35 percent, just about what it was on the day that Dr. King was killed. Since 1968, then, two distinct classes have emerged within Black America: a black middle class with "white money," as my mother used to say, and what some would argue is a self-perpetuating, static black underclass. Is this what the Civil Rights Movement was all about? Can we ever bridge this black class divide? What does the success of this expanding middle class mean for the progress of our people? Is this economic ascent the ultimate realization of Dr. King's "dream" of integration?.

How do we continue to expand the size of the middle class? And most scary of all, is this class divide permanent, a way of life that will never be altered? Writing in the New York Times on May 31, 2003, Jack Bass, author of Unlikely Heroes: Southern Federal Judges and Civil Rights, quoted from an interview with John Minor Wisdom, "the legendary jurist and scholar," which Bass had conducted just four months before the judge's death at the age of ninety-three in 1999: "He told me he was uncertain which was more important," Bass wrote: "how far blacks have come in overcoming discrimination, or 'how far they still have to go.'" This question arose in another form in an amusing, signifying interplay between the titles of William Julius Wilson's The Declining Significance of Race (1978) and Cornel West's best-selling Race Matters (1993).

There can be no doubt that "race" is far less important as a factor affecting economic success for our generation than it was for any previous generation of African Americans in this country. Still, there can be little doubt that the fact of one's blackness remains the hallmark of our various identities in a country whose wealth, to a large extent, was constructed on race-based slavery, followed by a full century of de jure segregation and discrimination in every major aspect of a black citizen's social, economic, and political existence. I decided to talk with some of the most remarkably successful African Americans of our generation who-because of opportunities created to one degree or another by affirmative action-have been enabled to excel in positions of authority that our antecedents could scarcely have dreamed of occupying, or even aspiring to hold. Had they become the Putney Swopes of our generation?


{Read some of the interviews here}

Bellow are extracts from a reflection by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. on his acclaimed book America Behind the Color Line: Dialogues with African Americans, where he unveils, through in-depth interviews with a wide range of personalities, the Black America which emerged from the silent and pacific revolution wrought during the past four decades in the US by the Civil Rights movement and some of its offspring such as ‘affirmative action’ and ‘black economic empowerment’.

Written in 2004, it does not account, of course, for the twists and turns the public lives of some of his interviewees went through since then, most notably those of Colin Powell or Vernon Jordan, or for what some have already termed “the hurricane Obama” currently sweeping the American political landscape, or the alliance between ‘black money’ and ‘black political skill’ symbolised by Ophra Winfrey’s open support to Obama’s presidential campaign, thus moving Black America closer to reclaiming Dr. Martin Luther King’s dream – to use the subtitle to Obama’s book “The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream”. Yet, it is still worth a ‘revisitation’.

*****

Since 1963, we've had seventy-five black congressmen and congresswomen, two U.S. senators, a whole slew of mayors, and two Supreme Court justices, but only in the last few years have we penetrated the heart of executive political power in Washington. Just a generation ago, the idea of a black president was a joke we'd tell in barbershops. We figured that a black man could be king of England before he'd be elected president of the United States!

When I was growing up in the fifties, I could never have imagined that one of Harvard's most respected departments would be a Department of Afro-American Studies and that twenty professors would be teaching here at the turn of the century. Our experience at Harvard is just one instance of a much larger phenomenon. Since the death of Dr. Martin Luther King in 1968, individual African Americans have earned positions higher within white society than any person black or white could have dreamed possible in the segregated 1950s. And this is true in national and local government, in the military and in business, in medicine and education, on TV and in film. Virtually anywhere you look in America today, you'll find black people.
Not enough black people, but who can deny that progress has been made?

In fact, since 1968, the black middle class has tripled, as measured by the percentage of families earning $50,000 or more. At the same time-and this is the kicker-the percentage of black children who live at or below the poverty line is almost 35 percent, just about what it was on the day that Dr. King was killed. Since 1968, then, two distinct classes have emerged within Black America: a black middle class with "white money," as my mother used to say, and what some would argue is a self-perpetuating, static black underclass. Is this what the Civil Rights Movement was all about? Can we ever bridge this black class divide? What does the success of this expanding middle class mean for the progress of our people? Is this economic ascent the ultimate realization of Dr. King's "dream" of integration?.

How do we continue to expand the size of the middle class? And most scary of all, is this class divide permanent, a way of life that will never be altered? Writing in the New York Times on May 31, 2003, Jack Bass, author of Unlikely Heroes: Southern Federal Judges and Civil Rights, quoted from an interview with John Minor Wisdom, "the legendary jurist and scholar," which Bass had conducted just four months before the judge's death at the age of ninety-three in 1999: "He told me he was uncertain which was more important," Bass wrote: "how far blacks have come in overcoming discrimination, or 'how far they still have to go.'" This question arose in another form in an amusing, signifying interplay between the titles of William Julius Wilson's The Declining Significance of Race (1978) and Cornel West's best-selling Race Matters (1993).

There can be no doubt that "race" is far less important as a factor affecting economic success for our generation than it was for any previous generation of African Americans in this country. Still, there can be little doubt that the fact of one's blackness remains the hallmark of our various identities in a country whose wealth, to a large extent, was constructed on race-based slavery, followed by a full century of de jure segregation and discrimination in every major aspect of a black citizen's social, economic, and political existence. I decided to talk with some of the most remarkably successful African Americans of our generation who-because of opportunities created to one degree or another by affirmative action-have been enabled to excel in positions of authority that our antecedents could scarcely have dreamed of occupying, or even aspiring to hold. Had they become the Putney Swopes of our generation?


{Read some of the interviews here}

BARACK OBAMA'S KENYA (II)*

Kenyatta International Airport was almost empty. Officials sipped at their morning tea as they checked over passports; in the baggage area, a creaky conveyor belt slowly disgorged luggage. Auma was nowhere in sight, so I took a seat on my carry-on bag and lit a cigarette. After a few minutes, a security guard with a wooden club started to walk toward me. I looked around for an ashtray, thinking I must be in a no-smoking area, but instead of scolding me, the guard smiled and asked if I had another cigarette to spare.

“This is your first trip to Kenya, yes?” he asked as I gave him a light. “That’s right.”
“I see.” He squatted down beside me. “You are from America. You know my brother’s son, perhaps. Samson Otieno. He is studying engineering in Texas.” I told him that I’d never been to Texas and so hadn’t had the opportunity to meet his nephew. This seemed to disappoint him, and he took several puffs from his cigarette in quick succession. By this time, the last of the other passengers on my flight had left the terminal. I asked the guard if any more bags were coming. He shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t think so,” he said, “but if you will just wait here, I will find someone who can help you.”

He disappeared around a narrow corridor, and I stood up to stretch my back. The rush of anticipation had drained away, and I smiled with the memory of the homecoming I had once imagined for myself. clouds lifting, old demons fleeing, the earth trembling as ancestors rose up in celebration. Instead I felt tired and abandoned. I was about to search for a telephone when the security guard reappeared with a strikingly beautiful woman, dark, slender, close to six feet tall, dressed in a British Airways uniform. She introduced herself as Miss Omoro and explained that my bag had probably been sent on to Johannesburg by mistake. “I’m awfully sorry about the inconvenience,” she said. “If you will just fill out this form, we can call Johannesburg and have it delivered to you as soon as the next flight comes in.”

I completed the form and Miss Omoro gave it the once-over before looking back at me. “You wouldn’t be related to Dr. Obama, by any chance?” she asked. “Well, yes – he was my father.” Miss Omoro smiled sympathetically. “I’m very sorry about his passing. Your father was a close friend of my family’s. He would often come to our house when I was a child.” We began to talk about my visit, and she told me of her studies in London, as well as her interest in traveling to the States. I found myself trying to prolong the conversation, encouraged less by Miss Omoro’s beauty – she had mentioned a fiance’ – than by the fact that she’d recognized my name.

That had never happened before, I realized; not in Hawaii, not in Indonesia, not in L.A. or New York or Chicago. For the first time in my life, I felt the comfort, the firmness of identity that a name might provide, how it could carry an entire history in other people’s memories, so that they might nod and say knowingly, “Oh, you are so and so’s son.” No one here in Kenya would ask how to spell my name, or mangle it with an unfamiliar tongue. My name belonged and so I belonged, drawn into a web of relationships, alliances, and grudges that I did not understand.

“Barack!” I turned to see Auma jumping up and down behind another guard, who wasn’t letting her pass into the baggage area. I excused myself and rushed over to her, and we laughed and hugged, as silly as the first time we’d met. A tall, brown-skinned woman was smiling beside us, and Auma turned and said, “Barack, this is our Auntie Zeituni. Our father’s sister.” “Welcome home,” Zeituni said, kissing me in both cheeks. I told them about my bag and said that there was someone here who had known the Old Man. But when I looked back to where I’d been standing, Miss Omoro was nowhere in sight. I asked the security guard where she had gone. He shrugged and said that she must have left for the day.

{Keep Reading Here}

*Extracts from "Dreams from My Father - A Story of Race and Inheritance", Copyright © 1995, 2004 by Barack Obama

Kenyatta International Airport was almost empty. Officials sipped at their morning tea as they checked over passports; in the baggage area, a creaky conveyor belt slowly disgorged luggage. Auma was nowhere in sight, so I took a seat on my carry-on bag and lit a cigarette. After a few minutes, a security guard with a wooden club started to walk toward me. I looked around for an ashtray, thinking I must be in a no-smoking area, but instead of scolding me, the guard smiled and asked if I had another cigarette to spare.

“This is your first trip to Kenya, yes?” he asked as I gave him a light. “That’s right.”
“I see.” He squatted down beside me. “You are from America. You know my brother’s son, perhaps. Samson Otieno. He is studying engineering in Texas.” I told him that I’d never been to Texas and so hadn’t had the opportunity to meet his nephew. This seemed to disappoint him, and he took several puffs from his cigarette in quick succession. By this time, the last of the other passengers on my flight had left the terminal. I asked the guard if any more bags were coming. He shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t think so,” he said, “but if you will just wait here, I will find someone who can help you.”

He disappeared around a narrow corridor, and I stood up to stretch my back. The rush of anticipation had drained away, and I smiled with the memory of the homecoming I had once imagined for myself. clouds lifting, old demons fleeing, the earth trembling as ancestors rose up in celebration. Instead I felt tired and abandoned. I was about to search for a telephone when the security guard reappeared with a strikingly beautiful woman, dark, slender, close to six feet tall, dressed in a British Airways uniform. She introduced herself as Miss Omoro and explained that my bag had probably been sent on to Johannesburg by mistake. “I’m awfully sorry about the inconvenience,” she said. “If you will just fill out this form, we can call Johannesburg and have it delivered to you as soon as the next flight comes in.”

I completed the form and Miss Omoro gave it the once-over before looking back at me. “You wouldn’t be related to Dr. Obama, by any chance?” she asked. “Well, yes – he was my father.” Miss Omoro smiled sympathetically. “I’m very sorry about his passing. Your father was a close friend of my family’s. He would often come to our house when I was a child.” We began to talk about my visit, and she told me of her studies in London, as well as her interest in traveling to the States. I found myself trying to prolong the conversation, encouraged less by Miss Omoro’s beauty – she had mentioned a fiance’ – than by the fact that she’d recognized my name.

That had never happened before, I realized; not in Hawaii, not in Indonesia, not in L.A. or New York or Chicago. For the first time in my life, I felt the comfort, the firmness of identity that a name might provide, how it could carry an entire history in other people’s memories, so that they might nod and say knowingly, “Oh, you are so and so’s son.” No one here in Kenya would ask how to spell my name, or mangle it with an unfamiliar tongue. My name belonged and so I belonged, drawn into a web of relationships, alliances, and grudges that I did not understand.

“Barack!” I turned to see Auma jumping up and down behind another guard, who wasn’t letting her pass into the baggage area. I excused myself and rushed over to her, and we laughed and hugged, as silly as the first time we’d met. A tall, brown-skinned woman was smiling beside us, and Auma turned and said, “Barack, this is our Auntie Zeituni. Our father’s sister.” “Welcome home,” Zeituni said, kissing me in both cheeks. I told them about my bag and said that there was someone here who had known the Old Man. But when I looked back to where I’d been standing, Miss Omoro was nowhere in sight. I asked the security guard where she had gone. He shrugged and said that she must have left for the day.

{Keep Reading Here}

*Extracts from "Dreams from My Father - A Story of Race and Inheritance", Copyright © 1995, 2004 by Barack Obama

OBAMA VS. CLINTON: THE MOTHER OF ALL BATTLES? (Take 5)*

"NOW WE'RE TALKING!"

Iowa... New Hampshire....

IS IT IN THE BAG?

{*See previous 'takes' here}

"NOW WE'RE TALKING!"

Iowa... New Hampshire....

IS IT IN THE BAG?

{*See previous 'takes' here}

O “FURACÃO OBAMA” E O DESAFIO DOS NEGROS BRASILEIROS EM 2008

O ano de 2008 começou sob o impacto do “furacão Barack Obama” que, surpreendendo os que ainda duvidavam de seu carisma e poder de mobilização, venceu com folga, as prévias no Estado de Iowa, as primeiras das primárias que decidirão quem será o candidato do Partido Democrata, depois da devastação da Era Bush, nas eleições americanas de novembro.
O senador pelo Estado de Illinois deixou para trás, num distante terceiro lugar, a ex-primeira dama Hillary Clinton, que ainda aparece como favorita na disputa no âmbito nacional, apesar do crescimento de Obama. “Nós estamos escolhendo a esperança em vez do medo. Estamos escolhendo a unidade, não a divisão, e enviando uma poderosa mensagem de que a mudança está chegando para os Estados Unidos”, disse ao celebrar a vitória.
A vitória de Obama na primeira prévia americana, com o voto majoritário dos jovens e das mulheres, em um Estado cuja população é 93% branca, é emblemática. Não é o fim da disputa para ver quem será o candidato do Partido Democrata, mas apenas o começo. O Estado tem apenas 57 dos 2.500 que indicarão o vencedor na Convenção Nacional do Partido Democrata, em agosto. É inegável, no entanto, que pode representar uma tendência para os negros em todo o mundo, inclusive no Brasil, onde, este ano, também teremos eleições.
O “furacão Obama” nos diz que é possível e necessário – respeitadas as nossas naturais divergências, seja de que tipo forem – construir pontos de unidade em favor do combate sem trégua à desigualdade racial, que permeia o nosso país de cima abaixo e explica o oceano da desigualdade social em que estamos afundados.

[Continue a ler aqui]

O ano de 2008 começou sob o impacto do “furacão Barack Obama” que, surpreendendo os que ainda duvidavam de seu carisma e poder de mobilização, venceu com folga, as prévias no Estado de Iowa, as primeiras das primárias que decidirão quem será o candidato do Partido Democrata, depois da devastação da Era Bush, nas eleições americanas de novembro.
O senador pelo Estado de Illinois deixou para trás, num distante terceiro lugar, a ex-primeira dama Hillary Clinton, que ainda aparece como favorita na disputa no âmbito nacional, apesar do crescimento de Obama. “Nós estamos escolhendo a esperança em vez do medo. Estamos escolhendo a unidade, não a divisão, e enviando uma poderosa mensagem de que a mudança está chegando para os Estados Unidos”, disse ao celebrar a vitória.
A vitória de Obama na primeira prévia americana, com o voto majoritário dos jovens e das mulheres, em um Estado cuja população é 93% branca, é emblemática. Não é o fim da disputa para ver quem será o candidato do Partido Democrata, mas apenas o começo. O Estado tem apenas 57 dos 2.500 que indicarão o vencedor na Convenção Nacional do Partido Democrata, em agosto. É inegável, no entanto, que pode representar uma tendência para os negros em todo o mundo, inclusive no Brasil, onde, este ano, também teremos eleições.
O “furacão Obama” nos diz que é possível e necessário – respeitadas as nossas naturais divergências, seja de que tipo forem – construir pontos de unidade em favor do combate sem trégua à desigualdade racial, que permeia o nosso país de cima abaixo e explica o oceano da desigualdade social em que estamos afundados.

[Continue a ler aqui]

BARACK OBAMA’S KENYA* (I)

I flew out of Heathrow Airport under stormy skies. A group of young British men dressed in ill-fitting blazers filled the back of the plane, and one of them – a pale, gangly youth, still troubled with acne – took the seat beside me. He read over the emergency instructions twice with great concentration, and once we were airborne, he turned to ask where I was headed. I told him I was traveling to Nairobi to visit my family.

“Nairobi’s a beautiful place, I hear. Wouldn’t mind stopping off there one of these days. Going to Johannesburg, I am.” He explained that as part of a degree program in geology, the British government had arranged for him and his classmates to work with South African mining companies for a year. “Seems like they have a shortage of trained people there, so if we’re luck they’ll take us on for a permanent spot. Best chance we have for a decent wage, I reckon – unless you’re willing to freeze out on some bleeding North Sea oil rig. Not for me, thank you.” I mentioned that if given the chance, a lot of South Africans might be interested in getting such training.

“Well, I’d imagine you’re right about that,” he said. “Don’t much agree with the race policy there. A shame, that.” He thought for a moment. “But then the rest of Africa’s falling apart now, isn’t it? Least from what I can tell. The blacks in South Africa aren’t starving to death like they do in some of these Godforsaken countries. Don’t envy them, mind you, but compared to some poor bugger in Ethiopia – “

A stewardess came down the aisle with headphones for rent, and the young man pulled out his wallet. “’Course, I try and stay out of politics, you know. Figure it’s none of my business. Same thing back home – everybody on the dole, the old men in Parliament talking the same old rubbish. Best thing to do is mind your own little corner of the world, that’s what I say.” He found the outlet for the headphones and slipped them over his ears. “Wake me up when they bring the food, will you,” he said before reclining his seat for a nap.

I pulled out a book from my carry-on bag and tried to read. It was a portrait of several African countries written by a Western journalist who’d spent a decade in Africa; an old Africa hand, he would be called, someone who apparently prided himself on the balanced assessment. The book’s first few chapters discussed the history of colonialism at some length: the manipulation of tribal hatreds and the caprice of colonial boundaries, the displacements, the detentions, the indignities large and small. The early heroism of independence figures like Kenyatta and Nkrumah was duly noted, their later drift toward despotism attributed at least in part to various Cold War machinations.

But by the book’s third chapter, images from the present had begun to outstrip the past. Famine, disease, the coups and countercoups led by illiterate young men wielding AK-47s like shepherd sticks – if Africa had a history, the writer seemed to say, the scale of current suffering had rendered such history meaningless. Poor buggers. Godforsaken countries.

I set the book down, feeling a familiar anger flush through me, an anger all the more maddening for its lack of clear target. Beside me the young Brit was snoring softly now, his glasses askew on his finshaped nose. Was I angry at him? I wondered. Was it his fault that, for all my education, all the theories in my possession, I had had no ready answers to the questions he’d posed? How much could I blame him for wanting to better his lot? Maybe I was just angry because of his easy familiarity with me, his assumption that I, as an American, even a black American, might naturally share in his dim view of Africa; an assumption that in his world at least marked a progress of sorts, but that for me only underscored my own uneasy status: a Westerner not entirely at home in the West, an African on his way to a land full of strangers.

[Keep Reading Here]

*Extracts from "Dreams from My Father - A Story of Race and Inheritance", Copyright © 1995, 2004 by Barack Obama

(Thanks A. for bringing me this book all the way from Washington DC as a gift)

I flew out of Heathrow Airport under stormy skies. A group of young British men dressed in ill-fitting blazers filled the back of the plane, and one of them – a pale, gangly youth, still troubled with acne – took the seat beside me. He read over the emergency instructions twice with great concentration, and once we were airborne, he turned to ask where I was headed. I told him I was traveling to Nairobi to visit my family.

“Nairobi’s a beautiful place, I hear. Wouldn’t mind stopping off there one of these days. Going to Johannesburg, I am.” He explained that as part of a degree program in geology, the British government had arranged for him and his classmates to work with South African mining companies for a year. “Seems like they have a shortage of trained people there, so if we’re luck they’ll take us on for a permanent spot. Best chance we have for a decent wage, I reckon – unless you’re willing to freeze out on some bleeding North Sea oil rig. Not for me, thank you.” I mentioned that if given the chance, a lot of South Africans might be interested in getting such training.

“Well, I’d imagine you’re right about that,” he said. “Don’t much agree with the race policy there. A shame, that.” He thought for a moment. “But then the rest of Africa’s falling apart now, isn’t it? Least from what I can tell. The blacks in South Africa aren’t starving to death like they do in some of these Godforsaken countries. Don’t envy them, mind you, but compared to some poor bugger in Ethiopia – “

A stewardess came down the aisle with headphones for rent, and the young man pulled out his wallet. “’Course, I try and stay out of politics, you know. Figure it’s none of my business. Same thing back home – everybody on the dole, the old men in Parliament talking the same old rubbish. Best thing to do is mind your own little corner of the world, that’s what I say.” He found the outlet for the headphones and slipped them over his ears. “Wake me up when they bring the food, will you,” he said before reclining his seat for a nap.

I pulled out a book from my carry-on bag and tried to read. It was a portrait of several African countries written by a Western journalist who’d spent a decade in Africa; an old Africa hand, he would be called, someone who apparently prided himself on the balanced assessment. The book’s first few chapters discussed the history of colonialism at some length: the manipulation of tribal hatreds and the caprice of colonial boundaries, the displacements, the detentions, the indignities large and small. The early heroism of independence figures like Kenyatta and Nkrumah was duly noted, their later drift toward despotism attributed at least in part to various Cold War machinations.

But by the book’s third chapter, images from the present had begun to outstrip the past. Famine, disease, the coups and countercoups led by illiterate young men wielding AK-47s like shepherd sticks – if Africa had a history, the writer seemed to say, the scale of current suffering had rendered such history meaningless. Poor buggers. Godforsaken countries.

I set the book down, feeling a familiar anger flush through me, an anger all the more maddening for its lack of clear target. Beside me the young Brit was snoring softly now, his glasses askew on his finshaped nose. Was I angry at him? I wondered. Was it his fault that, for all my education, all the theories in my possession, I had had no ready answers to the questions he’d posed? How much could I blame him for wanting to better his lot? Maybe I was just angry because of his easy familiarity with me, his assumption that I, as an American, even a black American, might naturally share in his dim view of Africa; an assumption that in his world at least marked a progress of sorts, but that for me only underscored my own uneasy status: a Westerner not entirely at home in the West, an African on his way to a land full of strangers.

[Keep Reading Here]

*Extracts from "Dreams from My Father - A Story of Race and Inheritance", Copyright © 1995, 2004 by Barack Obama

(Thanks A. for bringing me this book all the way from Washington DC as a gift)

LOCAL VOICES OFFLINE (3)

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

I found this speech particularly interesting for what it has to say about the deterioration of the situation in Zimbabwe since its independence.
The speaker, Jeremy Thorpe, addresses the situation in then Rhodesia (present-day Zimbabwe) at the time. He directs his ‘punches’ at the “internal government” then headed by Ian Smith, who once famously said "I don't believe in black majority rule over Rhodesia, not in a thousand years." It should be noted in passing that Smith has recently passed away and has been hailed in some circles of the blogosphere as a “African Hero”.

The talks Thorpe refers to eventually led to the ‘Lancaster House Agreement’ and Zimbabwe’s independence. Retrospectively, it may be said that there was a formal agreement but no implementation of it, in such a way that, paraphrasing his speech, “there was no delivery of the goods agreed to at Lancaster House and the life of the average African has only altered for the worse”…

Taking this speech somewhat out of context, one might suggest, in relation to the current negotiations on the EU-Africa EPAs, that “they have got now to generate such activity towards genuine partnership they will begin to not only astonish the world but, in particular, they will astonish the African population within Africa itself”…

Thorpe’s Last Stand

JEREMY THORPE was forced to resign the leadership of the Liberal Party in 1976, and survived scandal and a major trial for incitement and conspiracy to murder. He lost his North Devon seat in 1979. This is possibly his last major speech in the Commons, where he once had a reputation as a sparkling wit, well informed and fluent. He spoke in a debate on Rhodesia, which was still in turmoil, as MPs sought ways to end the fighting. (2/8/78)

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

I found this speech particularly interesting for what it has to say about the deterioration of the situation in Zimbabwe since its independence.
The speaker, Jeremy Thorpe, addresses the situation in then Rhodesia (present-day Zimbabwe) at the time. He directs his ‘punches’ at the “internal government” then headed by Ian Smith, who once famously said "I don't believe in black majority rule over Rhodesia, not in a thousand years." It should be noted in passing that Smith has recently passed away and has been hailed in some circles of the blogosphere as a “African Hero”.

The talks Thorpe refers to eventually led to the ‘Lancaster House Agreement’ and Zimbabwe’s independence. Retrospectively, it may be said that there was a formal agreement but no implementation of it, in such a way that, paraphrasing his speech, “there was no delivery of the goods agreed to at Lancaster House and the life of the average African has only altered for the worse”…

Taking this speech somewhat out of context, one might suggest, in relation to the current negotiations on the EU-Africa EPAs, that “they have got now to generate such activity towards genuine partnership they will begin to not only astonish the world but, in particular, they will astonish the African population within Africa itself”…

Thorpe’s Last Stand

JEREMY THORPE was forced to resign the leadership of the Liberal Party in 1976, and survived scandal and a major trial for incitement and conspiracy to murder. He lost his North Devon seat in 1979. This is possibly his last major speech in the Commons, where he once had a reputation as a sparkling wit, well informed and fluent. He spoke in a debate on Rhodesia, which was still in turmoil, as MPs sought ways to end the fighting. (2/8/78)

BLOGOSFERA MOCAMBICANA: UM DEBATE INTERESSANTE

Tem estado a decorrer na blogosfera Mocambicana um debate bastante interessante e pertinente, centrado de forma geral na questao do “papel da/o academica/o na sociedade”.

Como todos os debates sobre questoes sensiveis, este tem tido tambem os seus altos e baixos, mas tem sido inegavelmente rico e esclarecedor - nao estivesse ele a ser protagonizado por alguns dos mais destacados cientistas sociais Mocambicanos…
A blogosfera Mocambicana esta’, portanto, de parabens!

Alguns dos 'posts' a partir dos quais se podem juntar “os fios da meada” podem ser encontrados, entre outros, nestes blogs: Diario de Um Sociologo e Olhar Sociologico.

{Ilustracoes daqui}

Tem estado a decorrer na blogosfera Mocambicana um debate bastante interessante e pertinente, centrado de forma geral na questao do “papel da/o academica/o na sociedade”.

Como todos os debates sobre questoes sensiveis, este tem tido tambem os seus altos e baixos, mas tem sido inegavelmente rico e esclarecedor - nao estivesse ele a ser protagonizado por alguns dos mais destacados cientistas sociais Mocambicanos…
A blogosfera Mocambicana esta’, portanto, de parabens!

Alguns dos 'posts' a partir dos quais se podem juntar “os fios da meada” podem ser encontrados, entre outros, nestes blogs: Diario de Um Sociologo e Olhar Sociologico.

{Ilustracoes daqui}

COISAS DO ARCO DA VELHA…

O periodo de ferias de fim de ano presta-se sempre a arrumacoes e ‘limpezas de teias de armario’ que, invariavelmente, dao em ‘descobertas’ como esta: eu e o meu filho, separadamente, fomos ‘desencantar’ artigos de jornal onde aparecem estampadas as nossas xipalas… O mais engracado e’ que nenhum dos dois tinha antes visto o do outro e, mais interessante ainda, ambos foram publicados no mesmo fim de semana – um em Londres (no London Informer de 23/06/06), o outro no dia seguinte em Luanda (no Semanario Angolense de 24/06/06). Enfim, creio ser a este tipo de coincidencias que se referem as “coisas do arco (neste caso talvez seja melhor dito ‘da arca’) da velha”…

{CLICK NAS IMAGENS PARA LER OS ARTIGOS}

O periodo de ferias de fim de ano presta-se sempre a arrumacoes e ‘limpezas de teias de armario’ que, invariavelmente, dao em ‘descobertas’ como esta: eu e o meu filho, separadamente, fomos ‘desencantar’ artigos de jornal onde aparecem estampadas as nossas xipalas… O mais engracado e’ que nenhum dos dois tinha antes visto o do outro e, mais interessante ainda, ambos foram publicados no mesmo fim de semana – um em Londres (no London Informer de 23/06/06), o outro no dia seguinte em Luanda (no Semanario Angolense de 24/06/06). Enfim, creio ser a este tipo de coincidencias que se referem as “coisas do arco (neste caso talvez seja melhor dito ‘da arca’) da velha”…

{CLICK NAS IMAGENS PARA LER OS ARTIGOS}

NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION

KEEP GOING

COZ LIFE'S COMPLICATED ENOUGH

&

VIDA TEM UM SO' VIDA...

KEEP GOING

COZ LIFE'S COMPLICATED ENOUGH

&

VIDA TEM UM SO' VIDA...