D. Mateus Feliciano Tomás – Bishop of Namibe, Angola

This blog presents to the family CEAST the deep laments of that, that we will never again see in life. The highways of Angola are without any doubt the worst of the world to travel. Our Bishop was victim of transport accident happened at the place of Chongoroi, for 15:30 in Saturday, October 30, 2010.

Lost in a dream

Of a thing I acquired the certainty: this time is so unreal, lost in a dream, latent nightmare where I feel as a lost traveller in the time. It costs me to believe in the human being's ferocity, it is without a doubt an unanswerable facto her instinct so destructor. The human being's destiny is the savagery.

I didn't give up, I will never give up my dreams, and they strengthen my soul. They are the hope of my perseverance. To struggle is to dream, it is to love. Without dreams the love would get lost. We were born; we lived in the permanent anguish of finding, and finding him not to lose him.

No, it is not and everything the wind took but, and everything the wind left

In spite of the turbulent nights, I still get to listen their silences

If we had courage of exposing all our intimate thoughts, certainly a social revolution would happen. The habits would never again be the same ones.

Leaves forgotten in the wind of the Winter

The agitation of the marine waves drags the margins that faint, but they rejuvenate for the incessant time. It is like this the life of everyday and of all of the times.

It rained, the people took refuge, they silenced. The trees, it seems that they bought new garments intensely green. They are of the most pleasant colour than the Nature offers us. It appeased, and the people returned to the noise, to the uproar habitual, infernal, as that seeming that it is just what knows to do.

During all our life we struggled for us not to lose the moments that go by us fast. Later we see with anguish that we didn't get to recover none.

And everything to your circuit contemplates your dream

The Northeast still remembers the beauty of your landscape, and it awaits anxious that you return and again wake up him

I went there in the Northeast and I followed your footprints. He sits down your tender nostalgia, strong desire that you return, because everything is so discontinued, I think without hope. That you return with the candle of your soul and that you illuminate us.

As it is charming your silence, so discloser of the secret of the Egyptian sphinxes.

He enchants me always to wake up for the clarity diurnal and to hear the yokel opera. I get up and I meditate what remains of the green still no destroyed by the democratic real estate speculation.

We insisted on walking of the highway that drives us always to the same destiny, because we still didn't spy, we learned the construction of another road to free us.

Usually before we lie down complained that there left one more day. As if we just lived for that. It seems that we lost the courage to say: so many dreams lived on these lost days and so corrupted.

The more we moved forward in the time heading for the future, more ferocious destructors showed ourselves. I believe that it is this the one that call still civilization. I fear that are to destroy the love definitively.

We dreamed a lot that we flew, what gives us immense pleasure and freedom. But when we woke up verified frustrated that everything didn't pass of one more dream. To the we sleep again, we didn't give up the dream of flying.

The broadcasting station Mais (?) and the censorship to Rafael Marques

Luanda. Yesterday, October 15, 2010, moved maybe by a mysterious pulse, he gave me to listen to broadcasting station Mais. As the news section of BBC of 09.30 PM was not long, they lacked ten minutes, I awaited.

The newsreader of service of BBC spoke about the President's speech, MR. José Eduardo dos Santos, in her pioneer intervention in the National Assembly, where it lectured on the State of the Nation. I was very surprised; I admit that he didn't want to believe, when the newsreader announces that Rafael Marques will weave comments on the numbers presented by the President.

Suddenly, the emission disappears, maybe for the interference in the frequency of some flying saucer. The inexplicable silence continued. Any commentator appears with a theme to preposterousness to entertain the audience, but of Rafael Marques anything. I think it was abducted for some extraterrestrial.

Nor a word was heard to justify the cut of such inhospitable censorship. This continues to be the democracy of faking. Who was never democratic, for more garments and disguises that it uses, it will never be it. They are not people that govern us, they are gods.

However the progressive forces of Frelimo, Mozambique, want to impose the time of the hulks, the fields of the death of the reeducation.