Sunday, June 28, 2009

Connecting Sv2000 To Dvr

....... many marriages! WALKING IN KINSHASA


few days ago ended the rite of marriage to Benedict.
Begun in November 2008 with the presentation of the families, focused then in the first three Saturdays in June with traditional marriage, civil marriage and religious marriage finally.
Convinced that religion was Catholic, we instead found ourselves in a church of the Salvation Army for four hours, he reminded all the guests, with the help of eight choral and countless majorettes, just how beneficial spiritually belong the great family of salvation.
In fact it is only thanks to their chorus of salvation that we have endured four hours without falling into a deep sleep!



















Monday, June 15, 2009

Side Effects Of Matcha Green Tea?




Walking Kinshasa you can always see something new, different, a swarm of people different. It is true that this applies to every other place in the world, which would take away a little 'depth behind this phrase. Go to Malpensa, Milan's general markets, the fish market of Molfetta: there will always be those who see a babel of languages \u200b\u200band cultures to flourish, making the most of Babel inflated between the places of our imagination, just before the maze (the streets) and the earthly paradise, the place is swarming or a desert it is worth spending a redundant phrase. The real revolution would mean places where people circulating homogeneous population density reaches a normal, leaving little room for imagination. There will be told that there would be something different. For avercene of similar places.
Kinshasa is therefore an average place, in the sense of mediocrity that you expect in a tropical whatever, it's Cancer or Capricorn. Music from the speakers along the road, people sitting on the wall that sells peanuts, overloaded buses over the improbable and so on. Drains in the manner streams of the mysterious, which would be expected at any moment to see down a pirogue carrying bananas, all covered with a sprinkling of playful trash. Today
walking not far from home, walking to the ice cream (yes, even in the tropics are the ice cream). The notorious swarming so suddenly made me realize one thing: how deaf and blind in these two years here, become insensitive to Babel, the mazes and even to the Earthly Paradise. Two years ago the first thing I'd never left alone, even just to a few hundred meters. Still scared me a reputation as a dangerous city of Kinshasa, fame turned out to be unfounded. And with it, is disappeared even that sense of danger, danger, maybe not true but a bit 'of that risk that helps to make us leave our country and come to see what's on the other side. Hic sunt leones, come cercarveli.Durante the first exit to the city every colored lizard, every child beggar with flip-flops, skimpy each baobab was a source of amazement for me, "LAFRICA" tutt'attaccato I imagined as a child, the bellies swollen and women with buckets on their heads. Now I think my own business in thought, shy waste and puddles with dexterity and occasionally greeting a few acquaintances. Today I also looked into the eyes of a man who does not usually work away from home, sitting under a tree where he carved drums and masks. We drank coffee, looked away and who knows what he thought. And I had a thought, who knows what he'll do when I'm away, it's pretty amazing to think that the people there, living, working, making love and die even if we did not we there to see them. I was just a pawn for him, perhaps I noticed my color, and for me he had a background choreography. And I understand that he will die, and so do I, mutual indifference, and it may seem sad but that's okay, after thousands of miles you live and you die and you pull on each other, and even if you live near neighbors often do not that are listed in the lives of others. After accounts do not give much of a people that through our lives, and could not be if not so, than those who passed me but I can not move me to anyone.
This is the curse of those who begin to discover the world, leave the banality of their homes to find out new things, until you realize that the new is again trivial and you just have to move house, find another place to and fall in love and that bored soon after and so on, in a whirlwind of discovery that leaves you at one point sad and lonely and uprooted, nor where to stay or where to go. There is something to envy those who have spent a lifetime in the office, married career not to feel the emptiness that gradually grows in, but then you need a rich spiritual life and then a void if I'll find out.
sum up what I have learned here and thinking about what I expected when I arrived, I can not say that I became African, I remained a stranger in another's house and I have a house, and waiting for me and I'll come back. This is not to say that people can not move and move house, but we must accept that our country becomes commonplace, only because there is beauty in the banality and feel at home. I learned that Africans were and still are, which for years have lived and worked and struggled without our streets should meet but no they did not have the right to exist and will continue to have, residents of another, yet another Babel.
I knew their banality, but that beauty.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Can Men Use Veet Wax Strips On Genitals

Kin (or King), the beautiful


Kinshasa looks like a beautiful woman, elegant and sophisticated, stretched lazily on the banks of the great river from which sly winks his tiny twin, small Brazzaville.
is a fact that every big city on a river is always being compared to a woman lying to ogle idly, as if women did the river not more than that, we forget the centuries of laundry washed and water carried on the head. Maybe because the city is a woman, whose name and perhaps even in fact, so complex and incomprehensible, at least for men, which has always received the name of their fears. I'd like to be able
then lay on the easy cliche, because deep down how many cities do not tell us anything, we spend or pass in front of us as viewers and in after years ".. it ..!" I remember the thing but who knows where this took place, a city in the background of our world but not of his city that does not exist then, and who knows if there was the sea after that time I was reading the newspaper or was in a bar Milan, and even if we remember the place is not the architecture that matters, what we had struck in the head that day.
Kinshasa lies on the river, so. Mother of millions of children, assumed the role of capital starting from his village to be only a function of position, so that was good for the Belgian and that was enough. Mother
chosen by invading a father who had tried others, but not involuntary concubine stepmother. Still bears the scars of the wedding over, and this is why we look with pity, as it does just a child with eyes blacks that makes the mother when the father comes home drunk. He's on the river but not wet most, if not by accident. (And here the parallels with women, at least some, are wasted). High walls separating it from its river, quell'arteria which they were the birth and existence, and now you do not even look. Kinshasa look beyond the sea, the land of quell'amante who beat her, yes, perhaps the humble and laughed with friends, but at least they were making social life, for a while have been part of high society. And no matter if it had cut its roots, though now in a country that does not recognize it anymore and can no longer recognize, exiled in a corner of the room where the children make a mess but it's still coming muffled. She does not just have some old story, where some evening wear miniskirts in memory of old times and go out dancing, but meanwhile has remained at home with a brood of hungry and alone and tired. A kind of ex-singer Eighties pop, but without lifting to support the operation of nostalgia.
I was not born here, and do not share the joy after all that Kinois able to maintain: only possible if you forget of civic, social status, environment, health and peace. Possible only if one is born Kinois, selfish, generous people, unable to think as a society, as communities of purpose, but also capable of great leaps individual, isolated acts of humanity. And to think that a certain parallelism with the Italians in sight. One day I heard
define a city Kinshasa monster like King Kin, the monster from the human side, but scary-looking, capable at the same time killing a passerby and dearly love a blonde. Torn by two souls, we know what happened: I hope that the commonality of temperament does not mean a common destiny. Personally I hate the hatred of Kinshasa
tender that I, unable to forgive the unhappy people, reserved for a parent who has wasted the best of his youth and now yearns without tears, hiding her past dreams with a sense of the ridiculous.
you will find every now and then, if you want, you will always love, but can not viverti next.
Sorry.