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African   Histories

The   African   Sickness

Good bye First World. Hello Africa!:

he airplane is without no doubt the means of faster, comfortable and safe transport that it exists, but also is the one that worse prepares to you for a trip in which you are going to need to go light of luggage, mainly is necessary to forget at some moment the game the full suitcase prejudices, preconceived opinions and precautions of all type, that we have been filling with the aid of friends and family from the moment at which we informed to them from our trip to Africa. I left that suitcase in the transporting tape of the airport of Nairobi, where one perceives with joy from its same arrival that until the airports is different in Africa, customary as one is to those clean, neutral airports European, with the same environmental music, and in which you would not know to say without watching your boarding pass to what country belongs.

The eager glance crosses each corner of the airport while we waited for the exit of the luggage, and has a feeling that the only way to enjoy Africa in all its magnitude is in putting the eyes like plates, like those enormous eyes of African children who watch to you with curiosity, and as of that moment you must let freely penetrate in your body everything what he offers Africa to you. Appearance of luggage gives back us to reality and exit of terminal supposes encounter with group ethnic very interesting, taxi drivers, that unlike which usually is habitual in Spain, not pretends state of climb permanent if no, first surprise, amiability and interest to catch client, and, when after brief bargaining and agreement on price, second surprise, respect and education with client, which it asks if it wants to him to listen to music, something that pleases to us much more that the broadcasting to shouts of any soccer match, and that makes us reflect in which the borders between

It is at night. Soon I will discover that there is nothing as no dark as one night African, but today the taxi driver saves 15 km of distance between the airport of Nairobi and the city in a modern illuminated freeway of several tracks in which, like in all the British ex--colonies, she circulates herself around the left. With the taxi sent at the terminal velocity allowed (by its motor), the conductor asks to us from where we come, to where we go, whom we are, and all the habitual questions, that yes, as he is mandatory, becomes backwards to speak to us, although we with nervous gesture would prefer that he watched a little to the front more. In a sigh we arrived at the city where second burn in with the traffic waits for ours to us, since it seems that the priority system is based on " throwing a pair to him " and not in the classic " right-left "; the result is that in front of us a beastly collision between motocarro takes place and a bus, in which logically motocarro and mainly its conductor takes those to lose, our taxi driver nor perturbs, must see hundreds of accidents every day, and follows its way, other peoplés to the glances of panic and the cold sweat that began to us to cross the body. Protégés by some animistic God, we managed to arrive safe and sound at the hotel of colonial style, in whose bar, in front of a beer to room temperature, that is it warms up, we commented ours first printings on Africa. It is Saturday at night, and the atmosphere very is animated, people dresses very well, the men with European suits, and the women of one more a more traditional way, with dresses made in fabrics of showy but elegant printings that emphasize those so distant bodies of the aesthetic anoréxica of these times. Without desire to have supper mainly by the long made trip and by the passage of the taxi that has left our stomachs somewhat shaken, we decided to retire to rest, tomorrow periplo begins African ours and we had a feeling that it is going enough to be moved

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