It is as the friendship. I had many but I never got to discover who was of facto becomes friends. I also had many friends, I was also without to know which belonged faithful to them. It is continued like this in this anguish of the august eternal. And everything finishes, it is recomposed, everything turns to the that was already.
Blessed to God those instants that remind me, that they always accompanied me, but that only now noticed.
They went with the embarrassments of the adversity in the heads. To the quitundulos (push to move away somebody of the road. In dictionary Houaiss) they hurried. There was not time to lose. The destiny of the candies is very fast, macabre. The death is very patient, he knows how to wait. She doesn't worry a lot, because she knows that all seek her. She always has a vague room in the eternity.
We will return to the forests, we will accomplish our destiny, our odyssey. They defrauded us the quitutes (refined foods). We are going to Kalunga, we returned to our roots, to the reunion of the time of Aymaras, in the temple of the Lake Titicaca.
Before the settlers' arrival, Aymara lived happy in the Lake Titicaca.
Then they confined us, they camped us, they concentrated us in walled fields. Still many walls exist, now in the democratic dictatorships of contention. And they promise that they will always exist. It guarantees like this him the Chinese communism that gets ready subtlety to conquer, to impose to the world a political system and economic outdated. More walls of the hunger, of the barbed wire, electrified. The monuments of the suffering of the civilization: Auschwitz-Tsirkenau, Neuengamme, Bergen-Belsen, Mittelbaudora, Buchenwald, Flossenberg, Natzweiler, Ravensbruk, Sachsenhausen, Terezin, Dachau, Mauthausen, Stutthof, Chelmno, Gross-Rosen, Treblinka, Sobibor, Lublin-Maidanek, Belzec, Plaszow. The fields of Valerian Weyler, Nisei, Stalin, of the marshal of British field, Roberts, and of his successor Kitchener.
If I am hungry and don't I have anything to eat, what badly did do? Because they don't give me food? Alive among people or with irrational beings? I hope Zeus puts an end shortly to this. Some - the minority - they deserve to live. Most is for Jingola to see. But, who does to live deserve?
Put our pictures there in your murals of the hunger for they remember us. Of more victims than they tried to cross the walls cruelty of the shameful hunger and they didn't get. Now they imposed us the modern fields of the concentration of the global hunger, globalisation.
The day appears, it clears up, one plus, other time without hope. One more day of hunger. What will eat today? I don't know! We don't know, nobody knows, nobody wants to know. It is like this our life. It is this the legacy of the white man's civilization. Hunger! Always hunger! The civilization of the hunger. We are not part of the History, they lost us in her.
Image: Angola em fotos