In Second World War in a concentration camp Nazi, moments before the sending for the gas chamber, a rabbi elevates the hands to the sky and it shouts, convinced:
- Ó God shows them your power!
But nothing happens. Discouraged, it intones convincing:
- Ah… God doesn't exist!
Every outdated moment everything gets complicated. Everything is and all debased, we are despised. This is not good, not. The fear is foreseen that suddenly the volcano will explode. This is unsustainable and police and army will be insufficient. We are foolishly, totally guideless, stagnated in the sea inhuman, so disproportionate, so stormy.
The roars metallic nocturnes that stab our sleep of already almost dying. Those sounds titanic, acidities of colonial, slaves of the constructions of the diverted buildings of her petroleum and only for them. Until the nights they corrupted, they stole us. They are the vampires of the nights in one more concentration camp. In this Luanda, in this Angola, in this black Africa without future. Always with the callous fingers of so much carry in the triggers of the rusty weapons that apprehend us, they surprise us, they arrest us without formed fault, they kill us at random. Everything is so rotten, incompetent, irresponsible and so implanted savagery. They govern eternally in the palaces of the poverty. Gee! Corruption gigantic, no counted, that even of the night they make to be born jungles.
"The transparency lack will stay with the resistance in organizing the technicians of national bills legally and of the national companies of auditing they could make auditing to the great national companies. Project equally the Government to be unpunished to the lack of execution of the established accounts rendered regime, in agreement with the Law of OGE."( General Budget of the State.
In FPD Frente para a Democracia de Angola OGE 2005
It is that this ship miscarried in a port so mire that makes very well to remind for analogy, the actual fraternity of Portugal. That they felt the hands to the banana plantation of the underdevelopment and the two marshy governments smell the rotten of very far.
And of the ruins of the imposing colonial buildings they leave continuous casts of decanted waters, filthy of the first to the sixth floor. Splashing is intense but everything and all stay impassive, impossible in the flavour of the purest savagery. It is the word of silent order. Everything to destroy that remains is necessary. Our master, to Popular Power, it like this us and disunited will lose.
Such moral and material poverty to attack. But no… to spread football stadiums with the money that remains from the bottom to sink. Just to maintain the commanders' of the square of weapons ephemera glory.