iwontinsultyoubysayingno

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

My brother,
Every morning, I go, quietly, at the station, because I find there what enables me to start the day well : is my first contact with different. finds there also a newspaper kiosk, and a good hot coffee, which I drink while reading with the dresser.Sometimes also, I remain in the hall. And I look at this comings and goings of different people who travel by the train where pass simply by there.There are two or three SDF, and then all the others. There are also your brothers, since certain between them make their studies here. And then, there is a patrol of Police force, always the same one. Who controls. Not me, in ten years, I ever had to seek my chart identity in my pocket, it was not used when to pay with my cheques. But is true, I am white…And then, there is with me, my friend of Cameroun. Who him is made often control. It is true when it is not clear, like one says it so easily here.
But this morning there, then when it had taken the train, I remained to observe another black : it had lost air. It sought something. What ? I observed, it sought a brother, quelwhen one of the same color. It is directed towards the only one which waited in the hall, and a question posed to him. But it could not answer it. When a black well is observed, one is very quickly surprised : I often say that the black expresses in any sound being. And the only expression of its face betrayed its spite.
This brother thus set out again in the hall, seeking another familiar face : but more nobody.He S’is thus directed towards a African north and the same question posed to him. This one was right beside me, and could hear its question :- There is a train for Kédange ? Is which quay ?This was not a train, but a bus. I knew the answer. I did not dare to answer him. It had not asked. Bor did not know to answer him either. He left then towards Asian. Neglecting with the passage a station master, with his cap…Its face again betrayed : it still did not have the answer. hour of the departure approached, and I saw it very nervous. It continued to seek which could direct. I decided then, and, tandis when it went quickly, I took by the arm, and said to him simply :- is a bus, it is necessary to go on the place.It S’is turned over, surprised, almost frightened. Not a word.- I take along, come.And it followed juswhen to the bus. It checked the panel, tightened its ticket with the driver, who invited to go up. It had still not said a word. And it S’is turned over suddenly, and said, with a smile :- Thank you, Mister.
Is Combien of time S’run up against against the white, to trust them also little ? How did one accomodate for when it has if fear of us ? How much time did it undergo the fatty jokes of the white, to think when one made fun of him ?I know anything of it, but I know me, that never in Togo, I had to cross a road, without when one takes the hand to me. Is that to be brother, not ?

SlaveryMy black friend,

My president finally has just spoken. Hé yes, one had not heard much. It came to see you in Africa, is perhaps that which decided to react. And to recall that slavery was a crime.I am content, you know. Since time that I it think, that I write. It had to read again L history’a little. One never should forget, it is too rich teaching.
But you know, nothing is regulated. Because, with time, one equipped well, slavery. And it is seen less. Do not believe when one have completely abandoned L idea’of them. I remember these old photographs, where the blacks lived in old huts, far from the buildings of their Masters. I remember this time, when the houses of Masters were white, solid, ordered well, where the huts of blacks were covered with some sheets, their disjoined boards had, and lay down with the wind.
I still see these blacks working in the cotton fields, to tear off with the hand, often bleeding, the small quite white tufts. But progress of transport made that the same scenes always exist, except that now, much between you is slaves in Hé… residence yes, things did not really change, they are equipped, now, with cotton…


Simply, the things, parce when there is progress, took another scale. If one looks with a little more attention, one S’even sees that organization did not change : is the slaves between them which are charged to make reign order, for the greatest profit of the white. Even the color of slaves did not change.
Then, when you wait to hustle all that ? Do when wait to organize you, to resist ?You have your examples, not, Nelson Mandela succeeded in well changing the course of the things, not ?is true, any is not regulated, but I believe when it advanced the things. Africa is your ground, it is not normal when it continues to enrich only the world by the white. It is right to shout it. This price, the chains will end up falling………