In Angola they feel prisoners political accused of any crime. They say that it is a democratic regime that it is in the middle of the joy of their functions. The democratic potencies close the eyes and they point that it is like this that it is good, that it is like this that it is made the stability in Africa. Here is the income of the terrorism of which Europe is not gotten to loosen. Who supports the corruption and their dictatorships, in the bottom it is also terrorist without the knowledge.

sábado, 20 de fevereiro de 2010

To Occident of the Paradise (10). The soldiers took advantage of the poverty and in exchange for the soup the women prostituted.


The worst was when the film ended and of return the house put in a crazy belt because the invisible man pursued me. But it didn't give up when it arrived the day of her emission, and there he will attend once again. Again in the return the house the terror increased the rushes also, because illumination didn't exist for the road nor in the houses. I never thought that a film put I so much fear.

My mother told me that in the barracks of the military ones, she doesn't remind me the name, at night they gave soup and that he went a lot of people there, in most women. She gave me a pot. When there I arrived met already some women to the door, another were at a close place, darkness, protected by the grove. I heard pleasure murmurs, I approached and I saw that the military ones were on top of them. The soldiers took advantage of the poverty and in exchange for the soup the women prostituted. However a soldier saw me and he ran with me of there. He asked me where it was my mother, it showed nervousness, afflicted for thinking that she would be there. He told him that no, that it was not, that I came alone. The soldier dispatched me, it filled my pot, and he told me that if I wanted more soup, he would have to come with my mother.

My mother liked the soup, me, my sister and my two siblings also. He was still well hot. He told him that for us to give us more soup she would have that there to go. And she was, but when she noticed than the soldiers never again wanted there appeared. She admitted me later: "That for us to get soup the women had to do shameful acts, and I am not woman to do that."

To the nine years I finished the fourth class of the primary instruction. Horácio, my habitual friend of the cowboys games, had about eighteen years, he arranged me job in the building site. He spoke to my father. He told him that as I has just made the fourth class, he could also settle job and my father agreed.

It is there went in Horácio's company for my first job. The place was very distant; he had the name of Telheiras, where they built a lot of constructions. First we had to arrive to the barracks of the Regiment of Artillery, later to pick a lane and to pass for countless wastelands. When it rained seemed a miracle to arrive to the work place, because the feet were buried in a such way in the muddy earth, that for removing constituted a heavy bale.

In the beginning it cost me to understand a child's reason with nine years to subject to I work so heavy, that it consisted of carrying mass buckets for the stairways of the building in construction, so that the bricklayer built the walls with the bricks that I also carried. But soon they noticed that I didn't get to carry a mass bucket. Before the uncommon effort that he made, and before the glance of the person in charge of the work, somebody screamed that the child was not able to with the bucket, and I started like this to carry him for the half. I had luck, because it was already to go for the eye of the street. In little time I arrived bricklayer's assistant, it already built walls with bricks before my master's satisfaction.

Then I passed the bricklayer assistant, worthier profession and better he pays. Before that I took several plated in the face. An angry bricklayer with me for having past for this profession, considered that as an action of contempt of my part. After the lunch watered with a lot of red wine, he decided to throw me of the second floor upward of the mass in the reverse-pity-ground. Before my cry and threats that he would complain to my father, he still gave me more slaps.

Image: discosetc.blogspot.com/2009/09/h-g-wells-1897


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