Tete Mozambique – Pedro’s tiny boat dugout looks like a brown ant against the expansive blue backdrop of the lower Zambezi River. He is twenty years old and although his hair is black, fluffy and plenty, the weary lines around his brown eyes make him look like he was born in 1976 and not 1996.
My brown eyes are brimming with joy. It is partly because of Shaimaa the young Egyptian lady who has become my sister for the three days that I have been in Cairo. She is one of those people who are born with joy on their forehead.
The first time Ange heard this term, she thought about an actual shower that was given to a bride-to-be. But bridal shower was a slightly different notion to an actual shower. It was a showering of gifts and affection at a ‘bridal shower party.’
There doesn’t yet exist an animal that will grow, excrete or secrete money. We can always hope that this will one day be developed, but modest, well looked-after animals are already capable of providing the raw materials for products of great value, both nutritional and monetary, and yet in Africa we don’t break open the cow-shaped piggy bank that dairy farming and, in particular, cheese production offers us.
In few months I will leave forever the sacred age of 20. I am therefore living the last months in this very special number, 20. Maybe it is a women's thing that we care much about age, and maybe it is a youth thing, and maybe neither.
Life. What makes it great and what makes it suck? Why do we do so much to keep it and equally much to lose it? We spend a fortune to remain alive through a cocktail of curative and preventive measures and spend a fortune to chase away that very health through our lifestyles.
The Indian Ocean looked like blue ink that had spilt across the table forming an irregular map. Funny how everything looks so small from above. I thought to myself. We had just taken off from Malindi airport and were now flying above the Indian Ocean, on our way to Lamu.