Worth noting: all contributors donated their royalties to support the Céline Hegron clinic in a poor neighborhood of Varanasi.
Reportage sur TF1: le tourisme sexuel à Madagascar et Nosy Be
by Qsf
This discussion is in French, the community’s main language.
soizic il ne sagit pas de culpabiliser les encien mais a l epoque une solde equivalait a un salaire corecte pour l epoque et ce salaire te fesais automatiquement plus riche quelle comme maintenent le vazaha qui arrive avec un salaire de france il est riche par raport a elle allors le vazaha jeune ou moin jeune qui l enmene au resto lui achette des afaires et luidonne un peu de sous la sort de sa brousse pour la plus part lui aussi lui fait pas de mal et elle sont aussi consantante mais de nos jours c est une forme de prostitution je suis pas contre des l instant quel est voulu et quel soit mageur donc il n y a pas de diferance et mada na pas trop evoluer par raport a votre epoque si on ecoute certains enciens ca aurais memme regresseralors il ne faut pas jeter la pierre aux autres et renier ce que l on a fait avanc la seule chosse que je condanne c est la pedophilie et pour les pedophile se serais la peine capital maintenent la prostitution des lors quel est voulu et choisie cela ne me derange pas et si les autoriter veule la combatre il n on qua linterdire dans le pays c est trop facile d autoriser la prostitution et de metre les client en prison pas deux poids deux mesures les deux en prison ou persone bien c ordialement doudoumada
il n on qua linterdire dans le pays c est trop facile d autoriser la prostitution et de metre les client en prison pas deux poids deux mesures les deux en prison ou persone bien c ordialement doudoumada
mais c'est interdit et inscrit dans la constitution a Mada, vois le post de rotsaka plus haut.
mais c'est interdit et inscrit dans la constitution a Mada, vois le post de rotsaka plus haut.
tu veux dire que c'est le yéti ?
ou déguisé en ra8
eh oui, comment peut on s'imaginer....😏
et non soizyc la prostitution n est pas interdite a mada c est le tourisme sexuel qui est interdi mais tu sais il y a lein de pays ou la prostitution n est pas interdite regarde en france la prostitution n est pas interdite mais le racolage sur la voie publique est interdit ainsie que le proxenetisme tu sais j habite a nosy be et suite a tous c est control nous les operateurs on a ut plusieur rendez vous avec le pds a la mairie on en a fait debat avec lui et il nous a bien confirmer quil n y avait pas de loi qui interdi la prostitution
tu sais j habite a nosy be et suite a tous c est control nous les operateurs on a ut plusieur rendez vous avec le pds a la mairie on en a fait debat avec lui et il nous a bien confirmer quil n y avait pas de loi qui interdi la prostitution
on a compris, tu en vis.......donc tu es plutot du côté qui t'arranges, plus il y a de prostituées, plus tu veux du vola..... En fait le jour ou les proxenetes vahaza qui vivent de la prostitution disparaitront, il suffit pour cela de leur imposer des normes saines et sévères pour leurs bouges, eh bien ça ira mieux.
et ça c'est quoi : (ref : post de rotsaka)
Toute personne résidant ou se rendant à Madagascar doit être consciente de la mise en application effective du texte de loi 2007-038 du 14/01/2008 qui stipule, entre autres, que « Le tourisme sexuel désigne le fait pour un national ou un étranger de voyager pour quelque motif que ce soit et d’avoir des relations sexuelles contre rémunération financière ou avantages avec des enfants ou des prostituées cherchant eux-même des relations sexuelles pour en obtenir un avantage quelconque » et qu’il est punissable de 5 à 10 ans d’emprisonnement et/ou d’une amende de 4 000 000 Ar à 20 000 000Ar. Des inculpations ont déjà eu lieu à Nosy Be en se basant sur ce texte de loi.
on a compris, tu en vis.......donc tu es plutot du côté qui t'arranges, plus il y a de prostituées, plus tu veux du vola..... En fait le jour ou les proxenetes vahaza qui vivent de la prostitution disparaitront, il suffit pour cela de leur imposer des normes saines et sévères pour leurs bouges, eh bien ça ira mieux.
et ça c'est quoi : (ref : post de rotsaka)
Toute personne résidant ou se rendant à Madagascar doit être consciente de la mise en application effective du texte de loi 2007-038 du 14/01/2008 qui stipule, entre autres, que « Le tourisme sexuel désigne le fait pour un national ou un étranger de voyager pour quelque motif que ce soit et d’avoir des relations sexuelles contre rémunération financière ou avantages avec des enfants ou des prostituées cherchant eux-même des relations sexuelles pour en obtenir un avantage quelconque » et qu’il est punissable de 5 à 10 ans d’emprisonnement et/ou d’une amende de 4 000 000 Ar à 20 000 000Ar. Des inculpations ont déjà eu lieu à Nosy Be en se basant sur ce texte de loi.
Un peu demago...camarade!
Il y a 44 ans(pour moi), a Diego la taverne etait en vogue.
Les marins qui n'avaient trouvé l'ame soeur sur la piste de danse, attendaient la fin des festivités pour faire leur marché;les filles etaient alignées sur le trottoir...tels des bestiaux...je ne vois pas bien la difference!!!
nb;pour la petite histoire en 64 a diego, un commandant voulait faire un BMC...c'etait en vogue apres la guerre d'algerie, mais c'etait surtout pour maitriser les blenos.
Reponse de l'amiral commandant la region: mais commandant vous construisez un mur autour de diego, ce sera le plus grand bordel du monde!!!
RIEN A CHANGE!!!!si ce n'est le niveau de vie des malgaches.
comme tu habite a nosi be depuis le reportage est ce que cela a changer sur le terrain ou comme a chaque fois se ne fait que feu de paille et le commerce reprend?
en tout cas en 66 je n'ai pas vecu ça comme ça.
l'histoire du BMC n'est qu'une histoire.
et en tout etat de cause je n'ai jamais fréquenté les bmc.. ni autre bordels, jamais eu besoin. Comme a Tahiti, je ne frequentais pas le Queen's ni le lafayette. j'etais au Taaone..
avouez qd meme que ça n'a rien a voir avec le tourisme sexuel ......
bien a vous Camarade😛
au cas ou, je n'etais pas basé à Diego, mais sur un PA et seulement de passage en 66 comme plusieurs fois ensuite...
au cas ou, je n'etais pas basé à Diego, mais sur un PA et seulement de passage en 66 comme plusieurs fois ensuite...
Quelqu'un a évoqué plus haut la perception différente des nôtres que les femmes locales pourraient avoir de la sexualité, hors de notre pollution judéo-chrétienne. Cela m'a rappelé un passage de l'ouvrage de Charles Renel, "Le décivilisé", écrit à Madagascar il y a pès d'un siècle.
Comme l'auteur est décédé depuis plus de 70 ans, le texte est donc dans le domaine public et je me permet d'en reproduire un extrait ici:
(Adhémar est instituteur français dans un village Betsimisaraka...)
Le soir, seul dans sa case, il était assailli de pensées tristes. La présence d’une femme, même d’une humble fille du village des Trois-Manguiers, eût suffi à les faire fuir. Aussi Adhémar songeait-il à contracter mariage selon les rites des hommes de la tribu. Les mœurs, chez ces peuples, sont si faciles et si libres que les Européens, habitués à juger vite en rapportant tout à leurs habitudes, les qualifient volontiers de dissolues. Les filles jusqu’au mariage sont maîtresses de leur corps. Estimant cette liberté fort agréable, elles n’ont aucune hâte de se marier, et, par l’expérience qu’elles prennent d’un grand nombre de maris virtuels, elles se préparent à devenir d’excellentes épouses. Avant de se lier par une union durable, deux jeunes gens se prennent à l’essai, vivent un temps dans la même case. Si cette cohabitation resserre les liens noués par l’amour ou la fantaisie, on procède au mariage rituel qui d’ailleurs peut toujours être rompu par le divorce. Adhémar cherchait parmi les filles du village celle qui vien-drait habiter sa case, et il ne trouvait pas dénuées de charme les expériences qu’il tentait. Mais il s’apercevait aussi qu’un malen-tendu, toujours le même, le séparait de ses partenaires momen-tanées. Elles et lui ne parlaient pas en amour la même langue. Elles venaient partager la natte qui lui servait de lit, en toute simplicité, sans arrière-pensée aucune, et, pour ainsi parler, comme l’on va dîner en ville. Car une femme malgache aban-donne aux désirs des hommes les parties les plus secrètes de son corps aussi facilement qu’une Européenne livre à leurs re-gards sa figure, ses bras ou ses seins. Encore l’Européenne a-t-elle parfois, en ce cas, quelques scrupules de pudeur, tandis que la Malgache ne connaît point le mal, telle Ève, avant qu’elle eût goûté au fruit décevant de l’arbre. Adhémar au contraire appor-tait aux choses de l’amour un esprit déplorablement monogame. Obscurément déçu que ses compagnes eussent appartenu à d’autres, il admettait mal qu’une possession éphémère ne lui conférât aucun droit sur la vie sexuelle de la femme qui s’était donnée à lui. Il ne pouvait se débarrasser de cette fausse con-ception de l’amour qui fait d’un être au profit d’un autre une espèce de bien inaliénable, et attribue une importance exagérée à un acte tout naturel, assez banal par sa fréquence, s’il reste précieux par le prix qu’on y attache. Les filles du village venaient volontiers vers l’étranger blanc, par curiosité, non sans quelque secret effroi, puis s’en allaient, l’expérience faite, préférant retourner aux hommes de leur race. Avec un peu d’argent, Adhémar eût aisément fixé l’une de ces inconstantes, car les femmes malgaches se laissent aimer pour des colliers, des anneaux, des bracelets, des bijoux d’or ou d’argent, pour des voiles de soie ou même de coton, pour le don d’un accordéon ou d’une machine à coudre. Mais Adhé-mar n’était pas plus riche que les autres hommes des Trois-Manguiers. Il avait comme seul avantage d’être l’inconnu, l’étranger à peau claire, réputé de caste supérieure. Aussi res-sentait-il quelque humiliation d’être incompris des filles Betsi-misârak. Il se comparait, toutes proportions gardées, et avec interversion des sexes, à une personne de mauvaise vie, en quê-te d’une situation sérieuse et qui ne trouve à faire que des pas-sades. Ridicule conception d’Européen habitué à réglementer et hiérarchiser les gestes de l’amour ! Ce soir-là, Adhémar, avait un rendez-vous. Son repas à peine terminé on gratta doucement à la porte. Il déplaça la claie, et, par l’ouverture, une femme jeune et souple se glissa. C’était une vraie fille de la nature, sans fard au visage ni réticences aux lèvres, née pour l’amour et n’en connaissant que la joie physi-que dans toute sa simplicité. Petite, un peu lourde, les attaches sans finesse, le nez largement épaté, elle avait des chairs fermes, des joues pleines, des seins droits, légèrement piriformes, car elle n’était pas de race pure. Elle appartenait à la famille des Piroguiers-du-lac. Comme son père, ses frères et tous ses pa-rents, elle savait conduire les pirogues soit dans le dédale des marais, soit sur les vastes étendues lagunaires où le vent soulève des vagues. Le maniement quotidien des pagaies lui avait donné de gros bras aux biceps durs. Elle avait vingt ans et s’appelait Ialimanga. Le matin, Adhémar, revenu avec elle en pirogue et pris du désir brutal de cette chair jeune et fraîche avait obtenu un rendez-vous. Des tisons rouges, au milieu du foyer à demi éteint, ache-vaient de se consumer. Il la voyait mal dans la case enténébrée, la reconnaissait à peine, évoquait l’image de la chair brune pati-née par le soleil, des seins durs comprimés par le mouvement alterné de la pagaie. Maintenant, elle était debout, immobile, statue drapée dans la longue rabane à plis raides. Les globes clairs des yeux luisaient étrangement dans l’ombre bronzée de son visage, comme dans la profondeur noire de la sylve des fleurs blanches d’orchidées. Deux heures après, le foyer était mort. La nuit enveloppan-te les accueillait dans son repos. Adhémar n’avait rien à dire à sa compagne. Elle, d’ailleurs, n’attendait aucune parole. Satisfaite et lassée, elle s’endormit en lui tournant le dos. Étendu à ses côtés sur la natte fraîche, il percevait le souffle léger de sa respi-ration. Énervé, incapable de dormir, il songeait que les Malga-ches avaient résolu très simplement ou plutôt supprimé l’énigme si compliquée et si troublante de l’amour. Ialimanga la piroguière n’était ni sa maîtresse, ni son amie, ni son épouse ; elle n’était pas non plus une prostituée, car elle ne se donnait ni par vice ni par cupidité. Dans les langues de l’Europe, il n’y a pas de mots pour désigner cette passante sur la natte, cette sœur de chair, cette hôtesse de volupté. Celle-ci, sans doute, ja-mais plus il ne la sentirait à son côté ; ou bien, si elle rentrait dans sa case une nuit, ce serait comme si elle n’y fut jamais ve-nue. Elle ne se préoccuperait ni de celles qui l’auraient précé-dée, ni de celles qui devaient la suivre. Tous deux, vivraient, sans plus, la volupté présente, cueilleraient, sans penser à hier ni à demain, la fleur brève de l’heure. Plus tard, en présence des autres, ils auraient exactement les mêmes rapports sociaux qu’avant de s’être connus. De cette manière, l’acte naturel et presque anonyme de l’amour ne créait chez tous ceux qui l’avaient pratiqué ensemble, gêne, honte, contrainte, ou obliga-tion d’aucune sorte. Adhémar ne pouvait s’empêcher de penser que c’était bien ainsi. Il avait connu déjà plusieurs filles du villa-ge, et ces unions éphémères n’avaient apporté aucun trouble dans sa vie et dans la leur. Il concevait donc parfaitement l’époque où dans la nuit des temps, il en était toujours de même au sein de la horde primitive…
Le soir, seul dans sa case, il était assailli de pensées tristes. La présence d’une femme, même d’une humble fille du village des Trois-Manguiers, eût suffi à les faire fuir. Aussi Adhémar songeait-il à contracter mariage selon les rites des hommes de la tribu. Les mœurs, chez ces peuples, sont si faciles et si libres que les Européens, habitués à juger vite en rapportant tout à leurs habitudes, les qualifient volontiers de dissolues. Les filles jusqu’au mariage sont maîtresses de leur corps. Estimant cette liberté fort agréable, elles n’ont aucune hâte de se marier, et, par l’expérience qu’elles prennent d’un grand nombre de maris virtuels, elles se préparent à devenir d’excellentes épouses. Avant de se lier par une union durable, deux jeunes gens se prennent à l’essai, vivent un temps dans la même case. Si cette cohabitation resserre les liens noués par l’amour ou la fantaisie, on procède au mariage rituel qui d’ailleurs peut toujours être rompu par le divorce. Adhémar cherchait parmi les filles du village celle qui vien-drait habiter sa case, et il ne trouvait pas dénuées de charme les expériences qu’il tentait. Mais il s’apercevait aussi qu’un malen-tendu, toujours le même, le séparait de ses partenaires momen-tanées. Elles et lui ne parlaient pas en amour la même langue. Elles venaient partager la natte qui lui servait de lit, en toute simplicité, sans arrière-pensée aucune, et, pour ainsi parler, comme l’on va dîner en ville. Car une femme malgache aban-donne aux désirs des hommes les parties les plus secrètes de son corps aussi facilement qu’une Européenne livre à leurs re-gards sa figure, ses bras ou ses seins. Encore l’Européenne a-t-elle parfois, en ce cas, quelques scrupules de pudeur, tandis que la Malgache ne connaît point le mal, telle Ève, avant qu’elle eût goûté au fruit décevant de l’arbre. Adhémar au contraire appor-tait aux choses de l’amour un esprit déplorablement monogame. Obscurément déçu que ses compagnes eussent appartenu à d’autres, il admettait mal qu’une possession éphémère ne lui conférât aucun droit sur la vie sexuelle de la femme qui s’était donnée à lui. Il ne pouvait se débarrasser de cette fausse con-ception de l’amour qui fait d’un être au profit d’un autre une espèce de bien inaliénable, et attribue une importance exagérée à un acte tout naturel, assez banal par sa fréquence, s’il reste précieux par le prix qu’on y attache. Les filles du village venaient volontiers vers l’étranger blanc, par curiosité, non sans quelque secret effroi, puis s’en allaient, l’expérience faite, préférant retourner aux hommes de leur race. Avec un peu d’argent, Adhémar eût aisément fixé l’une de ces inconstantes, car les femmes malgaches se laissent aimer pour des colliers, des anneaux, des bracelets, des bijoux d’or ou d’argent, pour des voiles de soie ou même de coton, pour le don d’un accordéon ou d’une machine à coudre. Mais Adhé-mar n’était pas plus riche que les autres hommes des Trois-Manguiers. Il avait comme seul avantage d’être l’inconnu, l’étranger à peau claire, réputé de caste supérieure. Aussi res-sentait-il quelque humiliation d’être incompris des filles Betsi-misârak. Il se comparait, toutes proportions gardées, et avec interversion des sexes, à une personne de mauvaise vie, en quê-te d’une situation sérieuse et qui ne trouve à faire que des pas-sades. Ridicule conception d’Européen habitué à réglementer et hiérarchiser les gestes de l’amour ! Ce soir-là, Adhémar, avait un rendez-vous. Son repas à peine terminé on gratta doucement à la porte. Il déplaça la claie, et, par l’ouverture, une femme jeune et souple se glissa. C’était une vraie fille de la nature, sans fard au visage ni réticences aux lèvres, née pour l’amour et n’en connaissant que la joie physi-que dans toute sa simplicité. Petite, un peu lourde, les attaches sans finesse, le nez largement épaté, elle avait des chairs fermes, des joues pleines, des seins droits, légèrement piriformes, car elle n’était pas de race pure. Elle appartenait à la famille des Piroguiers-du-lac. Comme son père, ses frères et tous ses pa-rents, elle savait conduire les pirogues soit dans le dédale des marais, soit sur les vastes étendues lagunaires où le vent soulève des vagues. Le maniement quotidien des pagaies lui avait donné de gros bras aux biceps durs. Elle avait vingt ans et s’appelait Ialimanga. Le matin, Adhémar, revenu avec elle en pirogue et pris du désir brutal de cette chair jeune et fraîche avait obtenu un rendez-vous. Des tisons rouges, au milieu du foyer à demi éteint, ache-vaient de se consumer. Il la voyait mal dans la case enténébrée, la reconnaissait à peine, évoquait l’image de la chair brune pati-née par le soleil, des seins durs comprimés par le mouvement alterné de la pagaie. Maintenant, elle était debout, immobile, statue drapée dans la longue rabane à plis raides. Les globes clairs des yeux luisaient étrangement dans l’ombre bronzée de son visage, comme dans la profondeur noire de la sylve des fleurs blanches d’orchidées. Deux heures après, le foyer était mort. La nuit enveloppan-te les accueillait dans son repos. Adhémar n’avait rien à dire à sa compagne. Elle, d’ailleurs, n’attendait aucune parole. Satisfaite et lassée, elle s’endormit en lui tournant le dos. Étendu à ses côtés sur la natte fraîche, il percevait le souffle léger de sa respi-ration. Énervé, incapable de dormir, il songeait que les Malga-ches avaient résolu très simplement ou plutôt supprimé l’énigme si compliquée et si troublante de l’amour. Ialimanga la piroguière n’était ni sa maîtresse, ni son amie, ni son épouse ; elle n’était pas non plus une prostituée, car elle ne se donnait ni par vice ni par cupidité. Dans les langues de l’Europe, il n’y a pas de mots pour désigner cette passante sur la natte, cette sœur de chair, cette hôtesse de volupté. Celle-ci, sans doute, ja-mais plus il ne la sentirait à son côté ; ou bien, si elle rentrait dans sa case une nuit, ce serait comme si elle n’y fut jamais ve-nue. Elle ne se préoccuperait ni de celles qui l’auraient précé-dée, ni de celles qui devaient la suivre. Tous deux, vivraient, sans plus, la volupté présente, cueilleraient, sans penser à hier ni à demain, la fleur brève de l’heure. Plus tard, en présence des autres, ils auraient exactement les mêmes rapports sociaux qu’avant de s’être connus. De cette manière, l’acte naturel et presque anonyme de l’amour ne créait chez tous ceux qui l’avaient pratiqué ensemble, gêne, honte, contrainte, ou obliga-tion d’aucune sorte. Adhémar ne pouvait s’empêcher de penser que c’était bien ainsi. Il avait connu déjà plusieurs filles du villa-ge, et ces unions éphémères n’avaient apporté aucun trouble dans sa vie et dans la leur. Il concevait donc parfaitement l’époque où dans la nuit des temps, il en était toujours de même au sein de la horde primitive…
bien vu et tres vrai, c'est la meme philosophie qu'en polynésie
JE ME TROUVAI A NOSY-BE QUAND TF1 EST VENU FAIRE SON REPORTAGE
J AI ETE ARRETE PAR LA GENDARMERIE AINSI QUE HUIT AUTRES PERSONNES UNIQUEMENT PARCE QUE NOUS N AVIONS PAS NOTRE PASSEPORT SUR NOUS MAIS GENERALEMENT DANS LE COFFRE DE L HOTEL CE QUI EST D AILLEUR CONSEILLE DANS CE GENRE DE PAYS
APRES AVOIR ETE TRAITES COMME DES ANIMAUX PAR LA GENDARMERIE ET PASSE LA NUIT DANS LA COUR DE CELLE -CI LE LENDEMAIN VERS 13 HEURES
UNE EQUIPE DE REPORTERS MALGASCHE A DEBARQUE ET NOUS A FILMES AVEC DES BANDES DE PAPIERS SUR LES YEUX ENSUITE ILS ONT FAIT DE MEME AVEC DES GAMINES QUE NOUS NE CONNAISIONS PAS
NOUS SOMMES ENSUITES PASSES A LA TV MALGASCHE ET PRESENTES COMME DELINQUANTS SEXUELS CE QUI ETAIT DE LA PURE PROPAGANDE POUR LA PETITE HISTOIRE NOUS AVONS TOUS LIBERES UNE HEURE APRES LES SEANCES FOTOS
TF1 A DIFFUSE ET REDIFFUSE CES CONNERIES SANS VERIFICATIONS DIGNE D UNE CHAINE PAREILLE
DE PLUS LE REPORTER S EMPLOYE A ENFONCER SES CONPATRIOTES QUI SONT TOMBES DANS LES PATTES DE GENS DE MAUVAISES FOIS DE CORROMPUS ETC LES DELIS POUR LESQUELS LES GENS PRESENTES SONT ACCUSES N EN SONT PAS DANS LA MAJORITE DES PAYS CIVILISES
MERCI DE VOS REACTIONS
J AI ETE ARRETE PAR LA GENDARMERIE AINSI QUE HUIT AUTRES PERSONNES UNIQUEMENT PARCE QUE NOUS N AVIONS PAS NOTRE PASSEPORT SUR NOUS MAIS GENERALEMENT DANS LE COFFRE DE L HOTEL CE QUI EST D AILLEUR CONSEILLE DANS CE GENRE DE PAYS
APRES AVOIR ETE TRAITES COMME DES ANIMAUX PAR LA GENDARMERIE ET PASSE LA NUIT DANS LA COUR DE CELLE -CI LE LENDEMAIN VERS 13 HEURES
UNE EQUIPE DE REPORTERS MALGASCHE A DEBARQUE ET NOUS A FILMES AVEC DES BANDES DE PAPIERS SUR LES YEUX ENSUITE ILS ONT FAIT DE MEME AVEC DES GAMINES QUE NOUS NE CONNAISIONS PAS
NOUS SOMMES ENSUITES PASSES A LA TV MALGASCHE ET PRESENTES COMME DELINQUANTS SEXUELS CE QUI ETAIT DE LA PURE PROPAGANDE POUR LA PETITE HISTOIRE NOUS AVONS TOUS LIBERES UNE HEURE APRES LES SEANCES FOTOS
TF1 A DIFFUSE ET REDIFFUSE CES CONNERIES SANS VERIFICATIONS DIGNE D UNE CHAINE PAREILLE
DE PLUS LE REPORTER S EMPLOYE A ENFONCER SES CONPATRIOTES QUI SONT TOMBES DANS LES PATTES DE GENS DE MAUVAISES FOIS DE CORROMPUS ETC LES DELIS POUR LESQUELS LES GENS PRESENTES SONT ACCUSES N EN SONT PAS DANS LA MAJORITE DES PAYS CIVILISES
MERCI DE VOS REACTIONS
On connait Mada et ses façons d'agir, ils ne veulent pas être en reste devant un reporter caméra au poing, c'est le folklore de Mada !
Ce journaliste de TF1 devrait être proscrit de sa profession .Mais il parait qu'il ne faut pas interdire la presse de parler, même quand elle manipule le monde !
TF1 A DIFFUSE ET REDIFFUSE CES CONNERIES SANS VERIFICATIONS DIGNE D UNE CHAINE PAREILLE
DE PLUS LE REPORTER S EMPLOYE A ENFONCER SES CONPATRIOTES QUI SONT TOMBES DANS LES PATTES DE GENS DE MAUVAISES FOIS DE CORROMPUS ETC LES DELIS POUR LESQUELS LES GENS PRESENTES SONT ACCUSES N EN SONT PAS DANS LA MAJORITE DES PAYS CIVILISES
MERCI DE VOS REACTIONS
Merci à toi pour ce compte rendu très intéressant qui confirme point pour point que l'intervention un peu forcée par le tournage non autorisé des autorités gasy ajoutait justement la petite note scabreuse-ment croustillante qui fait inévitablement partie de leur cocktail spécial documentaire de choc (police, prison, justice, sexe, le tout dans un savant dosage spécial beauf). Je pense que la tournure que les évènements que tu as vécu ont pris n'étaient pas à leur déplaire. La chaîne de télé citée plus haut est la plus regardé dans un pays civilisé.
Project a vivid image of what you seek into the landscape of your life. What greets you on your way will be the images of your own creation
IL y a peut etre exageration de la part de TF1 mais moi dans le reportage j'ai reconnue mon ex et je sais de quoi il est capable, il aime les gamines et les copains qui etait avec lui c'est pareil . Alors arretez il y a bien pédophilie a nosy be et ailleurs . C'est peut etre un pays pauvre mais ca ne donne pas le droit de jouir des enfants, ceci est ma penser des choses maintenant quand ce pere de famille va rentré dans le sud ouest ca va etre la honte pour lui .😉
IL y a peut etre exageration de la part de TF1 mais moi dans le reportage j'ai reconnue mon ex et je sais de quoi il est capable, il aime les gamines et les copains qui etait avec lui c'est pareil . Alors arretez il y a bien pédophilie a nosy be et ailleurs . C'est peut etre un pays pauvre mais ca ne donne pas le droit de jouir des enfants, ceci est ma penser des choses maintenant quand ce pere de famille va rentré dans le sud ouest ca va etre la honte pour lui .😉
😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏
J'espère qu'il se change les idées en taule avec ses potes avant son retour dans le S/O.
Project a vivid image of what you seek into the landscape of your life. What greets you on your way will be the images of your own creation
IL y a peut etre exageration de la part de TF1 mais moi dans le reportage j'ai reconnue mon ex et je sais de quoi il est capable, il aime les gamines et les copains qui etait avec lui c'est pareil . Alors arretez il y a bien pédophilie a nosy be et ailleurs . C'est peut etre un pays pauvre mais ca ne donne pas le droit de jouir des enfants, ceci est ma penser des choses maintenant quand ce pere de famille va rentré dans le sud ouest ca va etre la honte pour lui .😉
Bonjour!!!!!!!!!
Mais personne ne dit qu'il n'y a pas de pédophilie à mada et surtout à Nosy bé cela est sur malheureusement et comme nous disons sur ce forum, la punition doit être lourde et très très lourde mais le pbl c'est que celui qui a bcp d'argent pu largement s'en sortir sans purger de peine de prison à cause de la corruption de ce pays!! mais cela est entrain de bouger!!!!!!!!
A+
Bonjour!!!!!!!!!
Mais personne ne dit qu'il n'y a pas de pédophilie à mada et surtout à Nosy bé cela est sur malheureusement et comme nous disons sur ce forum, la punition doit être lourde et très très lourde mais le pbl c'est que celui qui a bcp d'argent pu largement s'en sortir sans purger de peine de prison à cause de la corruption de ce pays!! mais cela est entrain de bouger!!!!!!!!
A+
Tant que la couleur de la peau sera plus importante que la couleur des yeux, nous ne connaitrons pas la paix.
Justemment ce serait intéressant de savoir si il est sorti de prison depuis et si oui comment.
Project a vivid image of what you seek into the landscape of your life. What greets you on your way will be the images of your own creation
Non il est toujours la bas mais comme c 'est une personne plein de pognon donc je ne fait pas de dessin . Pour ce qui est de pédophilie arrêtez de vous voilé la face et ne les couvrez pas croyer moi lui et certain de ses potes en sont et je sais de koi je parle .
Oui on a peut etre pas vue de mec condamné pour pédophilie mais il y en a point bar et je sais ce que je dit . enfin si vous acceptez ca les mec bravo
Je ne couvre personne, les prédateurs ignobles de ce genre me font gerber!
C'est un fléau qui sévit à Mada, c'est un fait malheureusement et j'espère que le gouvernement malgache va poursuivre d'une manière moins improvisée, moins médiatisé et plus efficace les auteurs (même pleins de pognon).
Project a vivid image of what you seek into the landscape of your life. What greets you on your way will be the images of your own creation
Merci acer, je ne me serai pas permis de dire ses choses si je n'avait pas reconnue le pere de mes enfants 😄, et ce qui ma mis la puce a l"oreille c'est que un de mes gas est parti la bas, et en regardant l'émission j'ai compris, mais je souhaite qu'il soit puni pour ce qu'il a fait non ce n'est pas par vengeance car de lui je m'en fou mes c'est pour ses filles qui en sont arrivé la malheureusement et ses vieux porc profite .
Le sujet est grave et pourtant, je pense que tout ce que tu racontes c'est du bidon!!!!!!! Enfin, c'est un forum et n'importe qui peut presque dire n'importe quoi!!!!!!!!!!🤪🤪🤪
Tant que la couleur de la peau sera plus importante que la couleur des yeux, nous ne connaitrons pas la paix.
non pendant deux ou troix jjourscela c est calmer les touriste on prix peur l ors des control et la vague darrestation il sont tous partis sur diego mahajunga ou voir tulear mais au bout de 2 semaine avec les avions le tourisme et revenus et cela recomence de toute maniere c etais un gros coup monter mais tres gravele president etais venue le samedi pour inaugure une grande eglise aux alures de catedral qu il a soit disant ofert aux habitants de zamandzar il l aurais payer de ses propre doniers ( surment qu il aurais mieux value qu il leurs paye un hopital ou un lyce ) ces la qu il a prononcer sont discourt qui pour nous un peut enti vazaha en plus ont saits qu il est tres enti francais ca a ete rela ter plusieure fois dans la presse localles douze persone arreter n etais pas en compagnie de fille il n avait pas leurs passseport et la police n accepte plus les photo copiedans cette arrestation il y avait des patrons de bar qui bien sur n avait pas leur papier et les image mon ter dans le reportage on ete filmer par la tele malgache a la genrdamerie d helvil il les ont pris en photo et filmer avec un beando de papier sur les yeux et apret ils ont fait entree les gamines qu ils ont arreter a daarsalam et on fait pareil il voulait les faire passer pour des touristr sexuel les vazaha ont reussis a prevenir la consul qui est venue de suite de toute maniere il y avait trop de temoins lors de l arrestationle plus dur c est pour le jeune qui esr en attente de jugement pas avanc le27 janvier cause vacance du tribunal la pute qui la fait arreter et coutumiere du fait elle est de diego et l aurais deja fait la bas il parait que sont pere et flic les filles de ambaatoulouaka l on mise en quarantaine falai bien que la police fasse qulque chosespar aport au discourt du president pour l instant la plus grande preocupation c est darreter le fou qui vient de tue 4 ou 5 gardien pour cambriole les maisons de vazaha ca aussi ca prend de l empleure voila pou revenir a jan michel le cameramane et sebastien je journaliste on a discuter avec il nous avait promis de faire le montage eux meme et on leur avais suggerer de montrer certaine chause il l avais promis mais l on pas fait je suis rentrer en france pour le 1 de l an et je l appel au tel sens succes je repart en fevrier mais je suis toujour au courent par les mel de mes amis jai mon gardien et ma femme de menage au tel tous les 3 ou4 jours au tel pour savoir ci tous ce passe bien et en ce moment ca c esr calmer a nosy be sur ce bonne soiree a toi et a tous
d ailleur ci la prostitution etais interdite il arretrais les putes et elle passerais en jugement ce qui nest pas le cas
je vien de te repondre mais aparament ces pas paser je pense que tu juge un peut vite les gents etNON JE N EN VIE PAS je nai pas de bouge ni de resto ni d hotel je loue des jets ski des bouees bananes ski nautic ext alors tu voi les vieux con sont pas mes client et cela ne te donne pas le droit de me traiter de vazaha proxenet et soit pas optu le texe de loi faut l interpreter corectement on parle du tourisme sexuel dessus et son interdiction on ne parle pas des pute ci ils ont le droit ou pas dexercer va sur le net consulter la loi malgache ou paye toi n billet fait comme nous va vvoir un avocat local fait toi le espliquer par le pds (le pds est un representant de l etat nome par le president pour remplacer le maire sont pouvoir et superieur a celui du maire et juste en dessous du prefet ) vue quil n y a pas d election munisipal a nosy be nous avons affaire au dps et il esr certainement plus ameme a espliquer le texe que toi a mada c est comme en france il ny a pas de loi qui interdise la prostitution en france c est le racolage sur la voie publique et le proxenetisme qui sont condaner un detenu a demander a son avocat pourquoi que la prostituee n etais pas arreter c est la reponse quil a recu alors ne joue pas a madame soleil et n afirme pas que j en vie et je ne suis pas plus proxo que toi qoi que toi je ne sais pas je te conais pas
c'est bien toi qui a écris ça ?
tu sais j habite a nosy be et suite a tous c est control nous les operateurs on a ut plusieur rendez vous avec le pds a la mairie on en a fait debat avec lui et il nous a bien confirmer quil n y avait pas de loi qui interdi la prostitution
tu joue l'équivoque ?
et soigne ton orthographe un peu.
tu sais j habite a nosy be et suite a tous c est control nous les operateurs on a ut plusieur rendez vous avec le pds a la mairie on en a fait debat avec lui et il nous a bien confirmer quil n y avait pas de loi qui interdi la prostitution
tu joue l'équivoque ?
et soigne ton orthographe un peu.
c'est bien toi qui a écris ça ?
tu sais j habite a nosy be et suite a tous c est control nous les operateurs on a ut plusieur rendez vous avec le pds a la mairie on en a fait debat avec lui et il nous a bien confirmer quil n y avait pas de loi qui interdi la prostitution
tu joue l'équivoque ?
et soigne ton orthographe un peu.
Critiquer l'orthographe d'un étranger qui fait l'effort d'écrire dans un français qu'il maitrise particulièrement bien c'est d'une élégance... Quand tu écriras aussi bien que lui en malgache tu pourras peut-être critiquer. Mais avant, maitrise bien ta langue et commence à recopier 10 fois la conjugaison du verbe jouer à la deuxième personne du singulier au présent de l'indicatif.
Tu joues l'équivoque, tu joues l'équivoque etc...
tu sais j habite a nosy be et suite a tous c est control nous les operateurs on a ut plusieur rendez vous avec le pds a la mairie on en a fait debat avec lui et il nous a bien confirmer quil n y avait pas de loi qui interdi la prostitution
tu joue l'équivoque ?
et soigne ton orthographe un peu.
Critiquer l'orthographe d'un étranger qui fait l'effort d'écrire dans un français qu'il maitrise particulièrement bien c'est d'une élégance... Quand tu écriras aussi bien que lui en malgache tu pourras peut-être critiquer. Mais avant, maitrise bien ta langue et commence à recopier 10 fois la conjugaison du verbe jouer à la deuxième personne du singulier au présent de l'indicatif.
Tu joues l'équivoque, tu joues l'équivoque etc...
Les voyages améliorent les sages et empirent les sots.
et que fait il comme profession ce monsieur
personnellement je ne critique jamais sur l'orthographe car je suis une bille moi meme et cela m'amuse assez de voir un etranger ecrire en français ça donne un cote naif et touchant en meme temps
le principal est de se comprendre avant tout
bon dimanche a tous les forumistes sauf bien sur au sindicalistes de la cgt et a la sncf
personnellement je ne critique jamais sur l'orthographe car je suis une bille moi meme et cela m'amuse assez de voir un etranger ecrire en français ça donne un cote naif et touchant en meme temps
le principal est de se comprendre avant tout
bon dimanche a tous les forumistes sauf bien sur au sindicalistes de la cgt et a la sncf
bon alors comme cela on se fou de la gueulle des etranger qui ecrivent mal le français fait attention a toi on va te transformer ton camping car en camion plateau il y a un contrat sur ta tete😠😠😉
on m'a fait une proposition que je ne pouvais refuser😎😎😎😎😎
bon dimanche et regarde dans tes retros
on m'a fait une proposition que je ne pouvais refuser😎😎😎😎😎
bon dimanche et regarde dans tes retros
Demago...doublé d'un brasseur de merde!
Comme les 4 ou5 noms qui reviennent regulierement sur les forums Madagascar, ils
s'appellent par leur prenom tellement ils se connaissent!!
Tu remets en cause l'orthographe de Didiermada, tout le monde ne peut pas etre aussi instruit que toi!....mais quand tu ecris a didier "tu joue a l'equivoque" sache
qu'en francais joueS prends un S.
Didier est operateur economique, en l'occurence il loue des scoots de mer, sache qu'a Mada tout le monde ne vit pas des prostituées et de ceux qui les alimentent.
Tu remets en cause l'honneteté du témoignage de Sophie du 64...ok mais faut il le prouver et comme tu le dis si bien, sur un forum on peut ecrire n'importe quoi!
Ta compagne est gasy * tu le dis du moins ....personne sur le forum n'a dit qu'elle était pute...et pourtant tu envoies certainement de l'argent qui l'alimente ou peut etre meme sa famille?? Ou commence la prostitution?? et pourquoi ne serions nous pas en droit d'imaginer qu'elle recoit tous les mois trois mandats Western union
de trois vazahas differents!!(pratique courante a Mada)
Non bien sur la mienne elle est differente.....c'est bien connu!!
"je t'aime chéri.....jusqu'a l'aeroport...et surtout n'oublie pas d'envoyer l'argent"
je suis mort de rire ...
Ta compagne est gasy * tu le dis du moins ....personne sur le forum n'a dit qu'elle était pute...et pourtant tu envoies certainement de l'argent qui l'alimente ou peut etre meme sa famille?? Ou commence la prostitution?? et pourquoi ne serions nous pas en droit d'imaginer qu'elle recoit tous les mois trois mandats Western union
de trois vazahas differents!!(pratique courante a Mada)
ce n'est pas moi qui ai écris ça....
Tu remets en cause l'honneteté du témoignage de Sophie du 64...ok mais faut il le prouver et comme tu le dis si bien, sur un forum on peut ecrire n'importe quoi! re - ce n'est pas moi qui ai écris ça....
va falloir aller chez Afflelou remplacer vos lunettes.
Sachez Camarade que mon épouse Malgache (et Française) ainsi que nos enfants, Malgaches et Français vivons en France et qq mois a mada tous les ans. Je n'ai pas a lui envoyer de mandats, elle se sert toute seule sur les comptes🙁. Oui, nous aidons la famille et les logeons dans nos maisons a Mada. OK ça vous suffit ?
mea culpa, mea maxima culpa pour le S de joue's' je l'ai oublié.....
Didiermada n'est pas malgache, , et opérateur touristique a nosy be...
ianareo mivolana raha tsy fantatra reo Aza hadino ny solomason'areo..😛 veloma
Tu remets en cause l'honneteté du témoignage de Sophie du 64...ok mais faut il le prouver et comme tu le dis si bien, sur un forum on peut ecrire n'importe quoi! re - ce n'est pas moi qui ai écris ça....
va falloir aller chez Afflelou remplacer vos lunettes.
Sachez Camarade que mon épouse Malgache (et Française) ainsi que nos enfants, Malgaches et Français vivons en France et qq mois a mada tous les ans. Je n'ai pas a lui envoyer de mandats, elle se sert toute seule sur les comptes🙁. Oui, nous aidons la famille et les logeons dans nos maisons a Mada. OK ça vous suffit ?
mea culpa, mea maxima culpa pour le S de joue's' je l'ai oublié.....
Didiermada n'est pas malgache, , et opérateur touristique a nosy be...
ianareo mivolana raha tsy fantatra reo Aza hadino ny solomason'areo..😛 veloma
ben non, je tiens a mon ccar.....
on m'a fait une proposition que je ne pouvais refuser😎😎😎😎😎
rhum ?
on m'a fait une proposition que je ne pouvais refuser😎😎😎😎😎
rhum ?
efa vita ny sazy nataoko.... (j'ai terminé ma punition) 😉
Merci de m'excuser, ma reponse etait en partie réservée a Tamerlan et l'autre partie a Carthage, mais comme vous faites partie des 4 ou5 que je cite sans les nommer vous n'aurez aucun mal a prendre la partie qui vous interesse!!
Dis donc espèce de trou du cul !! puisque ton pseudo est ALANUS, je trouve que tu l'as très bien choisi en fait !!!!!!!!😇 Sache une chose; c'est que toutes les femmes gasy ne sont pas des putes et loin s'en faut, car bcp de femmes travaillent dur pour y arriver et que bcp respectent leur corps!! Je suis sur qu'à Nosy bé tu n'as fait que rencontrer, celles qui sont citées sur ce post et que tu ne connais rien d'autre que cette ile qui est devenue perverse par des vazaha tai bé comme toi!!!! Si tu étais un amoureux de ce pays, tu ne traiterais pas toutes ces filles comme tu les traites en ce moment!!!!!!!! Personnellement, je n'irai jamais sur cette ile de débauche et la grande ile me suffit pour apprécier la gentilesse et l'hospitalité des gasy !!!!!!!!!!!🙁
Maintenant pour ce qui concerne l'amitié de certains vforumistes sur Mada et bien je pense que c'est une bonne chose et les conseils que nous nous échangeons sont toujours intêressants et je suis surpris d'ailleurs que toi, grand moralisateur, tu ne participes pas activement à cela pour reseigner les vazaha vao vao dans leurs démarches touristiques au lieu de dénigrer les personnes qui donnent des conseils à ceux ci!!!!
A bon entendeur salut et je n'ai plus envie de perdre mon temps avec un petit comme toi!!😠
Dis donc espèce de trou du cul !! puisque ton pseudo est ALANUS, je trouve que tu l'as très bien choisi en fait !!!!!!!!😇 Sache une chose; c'est que toutes les femmes gasy ne sont pas des putes et loin s'en faut, car bcp de femmes travaillent dur pour y arriver et que bcp respectent leur corps!! Je suis sur qu'à Nosy bé tu n'as fait que rencontrer, celles qui sont citées sur ce post et que tu ne connais rien d'autre que cette ile qui est devenue perverse par des vazaha tai bé comme toi!!!! Si tu étais un amoureux de ce pays, tu ne traiterais pas toutes ces filles comme tu les traites en ce moment!!!!!!!! Personnellement, je n'irai jamais sur cette ile de débauche et la grande ile me suffit pour apprécier la gentilesse et l'hospitalité des gasy !!!!!!!!!!!🙁
Maintenant pour ce qui concerne l'amitié de certains vforumistes sur Mada et bien je pense que c'est une bonne chose et les conseils que nous nous échangeons sont toujours intêressants et je suis surpris d'ailleurs que toi, grand moralisateur, tu ne participes pas activement à cela pour reseigner les vazaha vao vao dans leurs démarches touristiques au lieu de dénigrer les personnes qui donnent des conseils à ceux ci!!!!
A bon entendeur salut et je n'ai plus envie de perdre mon temps avec un petit comme toi!!😠
Tant que la couleur de la peau sera plus importante que la couleur des yeux, nous ne connaitrons pas la paix.
nous aidons la famille bien sur, mais volontairement et par plaisir, car ils sont charmants.
et seulement la famille directe, pas les autres.
izaho toran' ehy 😏😏😏 tsy faly ny vazaha izy ! 😛
Ca t'interesserait que je tombe dans le panneau!
Pas du tout camarade, je ne suis pas la pour proférer des insultes, pas plus que pour polemiquer.
Je n'ai jamais dit que ta compagne était pute....reprends mon post, tu comprendras peut etre mieux au 2ieme passage!
Maintenant si tu penses que je ne connais que nosy be c'est ton droit et je ne vais pas essayer de te convaincre...
Pour ton info, je connais mada depuis 64;j'ai été hotelier pendant 7 ans(pas a nosy be)..et des hommes j'en ai vu beaucoup qui tombeaient sur la perle rare...
mais des qu'ils avaient le dos tourné....cette perle rare elle changeait de monture!
Pour mon pseudo, je m'appelle alain, alanus, je trouvais ca marrant c'est pas pour l'homosexualité ou pour t'emmerder..
Et puis si je peux me permettre un petit conseil....quand tu arrives a mada laisse
tes ceritudes chez toi ca t'evitera bien des désagréments!!
Merci de m'excuser, ma reponse etait en partie réservée a Tamerlan et l'autre partie a Carthage, mais comme vous faites partie des 4 ou5 que je cite sans les nommer vous n'aurez aucun mal a prendre la partie qui vous interesse!!
Ta vision des femmes Gasy est très "Nosybeenne", c'est à dire insultante. Par simple curiosité j'aimerais bien savoir qui sont les 2 ou 3 autres que tu cites mais que tu n'oses pas nommer. Je ne critique pas l'orthographe des intervenants mais même pour un étranger (j'en fais partie) c'est possible de s'exprimer d'une manière plus lisible en public.
Ta vision des femmes Gasy est très "Nosybeenne", c'est à dire insultante. Par simple curiosité j'aimerais bien savoir qui sont les 2 ou 3 autres que tu cites mais que tu n'oses pas nommer. Je ne critique pas l'orthographe des intervenants mais même pour un étranger (j'en fais partie) c'est possible de s'exprimer d'une manière plus lisible en public.
Project a vivid image of what you seek into the landscape of your life. What greets you on your way will be the images of your own creation
Salut jean Marc et Alain....
Allez-y les gars...!!!
tapez-vous la gueule maintenant parceque s'il prenait à Alain (qui habite la Rochelle) l'envie de venir nous rejoindre à Pâques j'aimerais autant que ce soit avec un esprit d'écoute et de respect les uns des autres...😉...
( et vive le jour du seigneur..., mea culpa... du saigneur !!!😮!!! )
Allez-y les gars...!!!
tapez-vous la gueule maintenant parceque s'il prenait à Alain (qui habite la Rochelle) l'envie de venir nous rejoindre à Pâques j'aimerais autant que ce soit avec un esprit d'écoute et de respect les uns des autres...😉...
( et vive le jour du seigneur..., mea culpa... du saigneur !!!😮!!! )
Salut Patrice!!!!!!!
Je vais le faire directement sur le forum cette fois ci car, je crois que tu as besoin d'une petite leçon de compréhension et ce n'est pas à toi de faire le moralisateur sur ce forum, car je crois que tu as eu aussi plusieurs fois des petits pbls avec certaines vforumistes; alors STP tes leçons de moral tu te les gardes compris!!!!!!!😠
A+
Je vais le faire directement sur le forum cette fois ci car, je crois que tu as besoin d'une petite leçon de compréhension et ce n'est pas à toi de faire le moralisateur sur ce forum, car je crois que tu as eu aussi plusieurs fois des petits pbls avec certaines vforumistes; alors STP tes leçons de moral tu te les gardes compris!!!!!!!😠
A+
Tant que la couleur de la peau sera plus importante que la couleur des yeux, nous ne connaitrons pas la paix.
Cool Jean marc....!!!
C'est sans doute très bien de "croire" sans chercher à savoir mais de se contenter des "bruits de forum"... ("confortable" peut-être, mais sans constructivité c'est certain...) mais pour ma part tout est clair et même très clair... !!!😉!!! ...
Lorsqu'on organise 6 mois à l'avance un Wend sur le thème de L'Afrique et de Madagascar, on s'expose forcément aux réactions d'ultra-pationnés avec lesquels il faut composer individuellement pour que cela se passe le mieux possible....
C'est vrai qu'il y certains jours ou cela fait un peu peur même lorsqu'on essaye de concilier tout le monde....🤪.... la preuve en est par ta dernière réaction...!!!
Bon Dimanche à toi...😉
C'est sans doute très bien de "croire" sans chercher à savoir mais de se contenter des "bruits de forum"... ("confortable" peut-être, mais sans constructivité c'est certain...) mais pour ma part tout est clair et même très clair... !!!😉!!! ...
Lorsqu'on organise 6 mois à l'avance un Wend sur le thème de L'Afrique et de Madagascar, on s'expose forcément aux réactions d'ultra-pationnés avec lesquels il faut composer individuellement pour que cela se passe le mieux possible....
C'est vrai qu'il y certains jours ou cela fait un peu peur même lorsqu'on essaye de concilier tout le monde....🤪.... la preuve en est par ta dernière réaction...!!!
Bon Dimanche à toi...😉
Detrompe toi j'aime bien ecouter les autres....mais trop de conneries c'est trop!!
c'est encore une constatation que l'on peut faire a mada....les vazahas qui y sejournent regulierement ont un avis sur tout et surtout sur son contraire!!peut etre
de part leur esprit fragile....ils se sentent inhibés en terre rouge
C'est a croire que ce pays, attire les cons!!
j'attends vos remarques faciles....c pour ca que tu y vas!!
j'attends vos remarques faciles....c pour ca que tu y vas!!
Tu dis " C'est a croire que ce pays, attire les cons!! " mais tu n'y a pas vécu 7 ans dans la restauration!!!!!!!!!!! mais alors tu es de la trempe comme les autres; alors un con et un vrai!!!!!!!!🙂😄😏😉😛😇
Tu dis " C'est a croire que ce pays, attire les cons!! " mais tu n'y a pas vécu 7 ans dans la restauration!!!!!!!!!!! mais alors tu es de la trempe comme les autres; alors un con et un vrai!!!!!!!!🙂😄😏😉😛😇
Tant que la couleur de la peau sera plus importante que la couleur des yeux, nous ne connaitrons pas la paix.
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Arthur Neve (1859–1919), an English doctor and missionary, dedicated most of his life to his passion for Kashmir, a region he wrote several books about—including this guide (18 editions published between 1890 and 1945).
This copy (225 pages, 9th edition, 1913), published in Lahore, features dozens of detailed itineraries with maps, covering campsites, mountain pastures, river crossings, and more. Among them, you can trek from Srinagar to Khapalu and then to Baltistan, or "travel" from Leh to Yarkand (Xinjiang) via the Nubra Valley, along with other unexpected destinations.
The guide also includes suggestions for shikara rides, houseboat rentals, and gear for hunting, camping, fishing, and photography.
Plus, it lists various supplies like chocolate, Egyptian cigarettes, frames, and alcohol.
Note that the Murree Brewery, relocated to Rawalpindi, is still operational—though, in theory, the predominantly Muslim population can’t access it.
I found this book in a box of old books, and you can still find copies on Anglo-Saxon websites—though often at prohibitive prices.
This copy (225 pages, 9th edition, 1913), published in Lahore, features dozens of detailed itineraries with maps, covering campsites, mountain pastures, river crossings, and more. Among them, you can trek from Srinagar to Khapalu and then to Baltistan, or "travel" from Leh to Yarkand (Xinjiang) via the Nubra Valley, along with other unexpected destinations.
The guide also includes suggestions for shikara rides, houseboat rentals, and gear for hunting, camping, fishing, and photography.
Plus, it lists various supplies like chocolate, Egyptian cigarettes, frames, and alcohol.
Note that the Murree Brewery, relocated to Rawalpindi, is still operational—though, in theory, the predominantly Muslim population can’t access it.
I found this book in a box of old books, and you can still find copies on Anglo-Saxon websites—though often at prohibitive prices."400 pages of verbal pyrotechnics and animal magic" — The Times
"Bulawayo leans into exaggeration and irony to tell hard truths. *Glory* is jam-packed with comedy and farce, poking fun at an autocratic regime while illustrating the absurdity and surreal nature of a police state." — The Guardian
The cruelty and savagery of Zimbabwe’s (and Africa’s in general) "powerful animals"
Zimbabwean author NoViolet Bulawayo has written a novel that illustrates better than any documentary the complexity of colonial legacy. In doing so, she revisits George Orwell’s Animal Farm. Her novel *Glory* is a political satire about Zimbabwe—and it’s brimming with humor.
For thirty years, Zimbabwe has been stagnating under Robert Mugabe’s presidency. Human rights violations, corruption, and international sanctions have kept the population mired in poverty and oppression, while the regime exploits the meager earnings of the economy. As the 2017 elections approach, a power struggle erupts over the succession of the very elderly Father of the Nation (Mugabe). On the streets, people hope for long-awaited reforms; the people feel their moment has come.
And indeed, the army ousts Mugabe and his wife—"with her Gucci heels" (p.32)—who was positioning herself for the presidency. Hopes are dashed, however. The generals install former vice-president Emmerson Mnangagwa in power; the regime merely changes faces, but the problems remain the same.
In the novel, the country is called "Jidada, with a -da and another -da" (p.1); there’s no mistaking that this fictional state is Zimbabwe.
For *Glory*, her second novel, NoViolet Bulawayo invents a whole series of codes whose strength lies precisely in how easy they are to decipher. Like George Orwell’s Animal Farm, the characters populating Bulawayo’s universe aren’t humans but horses, goats, or crocodiles with all-too-human traits. Mugabe and Mnangagwa are horses, the spiritual leader is a pig, the soldiers are all bloodthirsty dogs, while the populace consists of goats, chickens, donkeys, and cats. The shift to the animal world serves only to better grasp the laws of despotism—and to ridicule real-life models. On one hand, the animals are humanized: they tweet, torture, travel in private jets. On the other, their greed, stupidity, and brutality stem from their animal nature.
It’s the old trick of fable: dressing men in animal disguises to make them easier to recognize. That’s how Orwell, in Animal Farm, traced how the promise of liberation from the Russian Revolution turned into Stalinist terror. In his 1945 fable, George Orwell describes how the animals of a farm drive out their farmer to organize the exploitation themselves, collectively. For a time, they truly taste freedom, but a clique of pigs ends up taking control. The central figures of the Soviet story—Stalin, Trotsky, Molotov—were easily recognizable.
Yet Bulawayo departs sharply from Orwell. She’s less concerned with precision and the force of argument than with satirical exaggeration. The deposed president is a senile old man who believes he can control even the sun’s course. The new stallion in power is a greedy debaucher. His soldiers sniff respectfully at his tail and backside.
In Bulawayo’s *Glory*, things are more complicated, but her novel also tells of a failed, incomplete liberation. In the author’s Animal Farm, Jidada, the colonial exploiters are followed by new forms of oppression. Because the former liberators become tyrants themselves. And because global power dynamics persist in neocolonial structures.
Wouldn’t that be enough to fuel a deeply depressing narrative? No—Bulawayo turns it into a blazing satire, full of wit and uncompromising criticism of power, a thread running through contemporary (not just) Zimbabwean history. The old warhorses in NoViolet Bulawayo’s Jidada, who continue to act as pack leaders, are easily recognizable as caricatures of the longtime dictator Robert Mugabe and his successor, current president Emmerson Mnangagwa.
The plot kicks off in high gear with independence day festivities. From the crack of dawn, everyone waits on Jidada Square for the Old Horse, the Father of the Nation and former liberator, whose reign "was nearing all of—not one, not two, not three, but four solid decades" (p.1). Everywhere, the colors of the Jidada Party shine; everywhere, true supporters cheer. Even the scorching sun plays its part: "At this point the sun, upon seeing arrive the leader who was decreed by God himself to rule and rule and keep ruling, a leader who'd in turn decreed the very sun to head his cheerleading squad, took a deep, deep breath and thoroughly blazed to impress" (p.2).
Finally, the Old Horse’s luxury carriage approaches "with the slowness of a hearse" (p.2), and "hoping to catch a glimpse of the legendary Father of the Nation," which causes "the animals fell over themselves like intoxicated frogs" (p.2). The sovereign’s speech is delayed a moment longer: "what I really want is a nap," groans the Old Horse as he takes his seat with such care "like his backside was made of expensive porcelain" (p.6).
Meanwhile, Bulawayo parades his entourage: the president’s wife (who earns her doctorate at Jidada University faster than "you could say diss, for dissertation. Tholukuthi it was as easy as ordering from a KFC drive-through, or perhaps even easier being that it was cheaper than KFC; it in fact cost her nothing and the degree actually came with a zero-calorie Diet Coke and a purple straw" (p.41), and she’s now known as Dr Sweet Mother. The cabinet includes "the Minister of the Revolution, the Minister of Corruption, the Minister of Order, the Minister of Things, the Minister of Nothing, the Minister of Propaganda, the Minister of Homophobic Affairs, the Minister of Disinformation and the Minister of Looting" (p.9). And of course the vice-president, who will soon become interim president when the Old Horse finally kicks the bucket—and then settle in as the new long-term president, who in the novel is called Tuvius Delight Shasha, or "Tuvy" for short (p.253), none other than Emmerson Mnangagwa. It’s him Bulawayo reserves her most merciless character description for.
"New Dispensation" (p.109) is Tuvy’s slogan for Jidada, and he loves repeating it so much he even named his parrot after it ("So inspired was Tuvy by the realisation that he rechristened his new pet parrot with the name New Dispensation—tholukuthi the bird having been acquired explicitly for the purposes of tweeting eulogies and accordingly glorifying the Saviour throughout the airs and skies of the nation. Tuvy then went on to hire a lecturer in English from the University of Jidada to teach New Dispensation to say the phrase 'New Dispensation'" p.110). But Tuvy’s Zimbabwe remains a nation without free, fair, and credible elections ("#freefairncredibleelection" p.161), and the promised equal treatment applies only insofar as Zimbabweans now queue up without discrimination in endless lines—and everyone is as poor as the next in the "queuenation" (p.283). Except for the powerful. They can "yes, tholukuthi, her immeasurable riches theirs to take. And take they did—
just take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take" (p.249-250).
In short: Bulawayo brilliantly depicts how former independence fighters become exploiters themselves. And how the country threatens to suffocate under the weight of corruption and repression. But she also literally stages the polyphony with which the people oppose imposed obedience to the official line.
Controversial online discussions keep interrupting the narrative—dialogues and social threads (see photo below) that Bulawayo masterfully integrates. From a literary standpoint, it’s a brilliant idea. And it shows, above all, that the author’s sympathy—so likeable—goes to all those who refuse to let their dream of true freedom be stolen, not even by the corrupt elites of their own country.
In the book’s acknowledgments, the first tribute goes to "The Jidadas of the world, clamouring for freedom on many fronts—A luta continua." (p.401) This reflects the realization that, not only in Jidada-Zimbabwe but in many other corners of the world, the end of colonial domination is still far from meaning the freedom hoped for by the vast majority of people. But it also means, more broadly, that this freedom must be won "on many fronts" (see above), both domestically and geopolitically.
That’s precisely what *Glory* so vividly highlights: how complex the project behind the term "postcolonialism" really is. With *Glory*, Bulawayo also delivers a scathing critique of the persistence of colonial mindsets in the West.
In the novel, the murder of George Floyd, racist police violence, and white-supremacist ideology in Trump’s United States perfectly illustrate the persistence of racism. It’s especially in the final chapters that Bulawayo lets Jidada’s inhabitants explicitly and unflinchingly criticize a neocolonial world order:
"It was not lost on us how the West, which loved to 'save' Africa and announce every action to the whole world, did so with one limb while manipulating, looting and fleecing us with the rest of its limbs so that more money in fact poured out of the continent than trickled in." (p.376)
"It was no mistake that multinational corporations yearly reaped and shipped colossal profits from Africa back to their countries as had been the case during colonial times. Even the sticks and stones would tell you that the African earth at any given time howled and shook and heaved from the extraction of its precious minerals that rarely benefited its own miserable children." (p.376)
"(...) we vowed to wage yet another war for Africa's second Liberation from neocolonial oppression. From exploitation. From plunder. From Western dominion. From indignity. From Abuse. We wanted real freedom. We wanted greedy, thieving paws off our wealth. We wanted Justice. We wanted a new world; we wanted a brand-new world so much we didn't sleep a wink that night." (p.377)
The Jidadas of this world must fight two enemies: Western neocolonialism and the autocratic instrumentalization of that argument; the persistence of Western racism and the populist appropriation of that humiliation by tyrants from their own ranks. Neither of these obstacles to freedom diminishes the historical and current guilt of the other. But the path to postcolonial liberation must overcome all these forms of oppression. After all, the colonizers didn’t bequeath democracies to formerly dominated nations, but instability and the principles of oppression and exploitation—which the so-called liberators have also internalized. Yet the fact that a satirical novel can capture the complexity of historical relationships while remaining, despite all the darkness of the subject, hilarious—well, that’s truly astonishing.
Finally, *Glory* ties into a major trauma in Zimbabwe’s post-independence history: the so-called Gukurahundi massacres. Between 1983 and 1987, tens of thousands of civilians were murdered by Mugabe’s bloody henchmen, most of them Ndebele. The State Security Minister and head of secret services at the time? You guessed it—Emmerson Mnangagwa.
When *Glory* turns to the massacres, the novel’s tone shifts completely. The story is now told through the narrative of the goat called Destiny, who, like NoViolet Bulawayo herself, left her home country at 18 for the United States and only returned after 13 years. In the book, the city of Bulawayo becomes a village where Destiny retraces her family’s history—and learns that part of it was also brutally murdered during the massacres.
The abuse of power and life under a dictatorship, dispossession, and a fiercely proud awareness of the psychological wounds and emotional vulnerability of a uprooted and disenfranchised people who had to forge a new language—a new set of names—to express their lived experiences are at the heart of this wonderful Zimbabwean author’s literary work, NoViolet Bulawayo. Shortly after her studies, she was already writing short stories about postcolonial power dynamics in Africa. But her playful, masterful, and often unconventional approach to language also plays a key role in her work. With virtuosity, she shifts from cynical images of power-obsessed elites to compassionate descriptions of the people’s suffering, ending with a hopeful sermon on courage—the courage to break free from fear and thus gain the strength for change ("And every one of them understood that whatever they heard within those hearts was the new national anthem, tholukuthi an anthem that spoke of the kind of glory that burns eternal and glows with living light." p.400). This novel is a genuine pleasure to read. And it’s exceptional. Good, African...
Book info (original English and German translation):
NoViolet Bulawayo. Glory. Chatto & Windus, 2022. NoViolet Bulawayo. Glory. Suhrkamp, 2023.
Hery
The books (in English, in German)
Author NoViolet Bulawayo, Zimbabwe
Threads (p.164-165)
"Bulawayo leans into exaggeration and irony to tell hard truths. *Glory* is jam-packed with comedy and farce, poking fun at an autocratic regime while illustrating the absurdity and surreal nature of a police state." — The Guardian
The cruelty and savagery of Zimbabwe’s (and Africa’s in general) "powerful animals"
Zimbabwean author NoViolet Bulawayo has written a novel that illustrates better than any documentary the complexity of colonial legacy. In doing so, she revisits George Orwell’s Animal Farm. Her novel *Glory* is a political satire about Zimbabwe—and it’s brimming with humor.
For thirty years, Zimbabwe has been stagnating under Robert Mugabe’s presidency. Human rights violations, corruption, and international sanctions have kept the population mired in poverty and oppression, while the regime exploits the meager earnings of the economy. As the 2017 elections approach, a power struggle erupts over the succession of the very elderly Father of the Nation (Mugabe). On the streets, people hope for long-awaited reforms; the people feel their moment has come.
And indeed, the army ousts Mugabe and his wife—"with her Gucci heels" (p.32)—who was positioning herself for the presidency. Hopes are dashed, however. The generals install former vice-president Emmerson Mnangagwa in power; the regime merely changes faces, but the problems remain the same.
In the novel, the country is called "Jidada, with a -da and another -da" (p.1); there’s no mistaking that this fictional state is Zimbabwe.
For *Glory*, her second novel, NoViolet Bulawayo invents a whole series of codes whose strength lies precisely in how easy they are to decipher. Like George Orwell’s Animal Farm, the characters populating Bulawayo’s universe aren’t humans but horses, goats, or crocodiles with all-too-human traits. Mugabe and Mnangagwa are horses, the spiritual leader is a pig, the soldiers are all bloodthirsty dogs, while the populace consists of goats, chickens, donkeys, and cats. The shift to the animal world serves only to better grasp the laws of despotism—and to ridicule real-life models. On one hand, the animals are humanized: they tweet, torture, travel in private jets. On the other, their greed, stupidity, and brutality stem from their animal nature.
It’s the old trick of fable: dressing men in animal disguises to make them easier to recognize. That’s how Orwell, in Animal Farm, traced how the promise of liberation from the Russian Revolution turned into Stalinist terror. In his 1945 fable, George Orwell describes how the animals of a farm drive out their farmer to organize the exploitation themselves, collectively. For a time, they truly taste freedom, but a clique of pigs ends up taking control. The central figures of the Soviet story—Stalin, Trotsky, Molotov—were easily recognizable.
Yet Bulawayo departs sharply from Orwell. She’s less concerned with precision and the force of argument than with satirical exaggeration. The deposed president is a senile old man who believes he can control even the sun’s course. The new stallion in power is a greedy debaucher. His soldiers sniff respectfully at his tail and backside.
In Bulawayo’s *Glory*, things are more complicated, but her novel also tells of a failed, incomplete liberation. In the author’s Animal Farm, Jidada, the colonial exploiters are followed by new forms of oppression. Because the former liberators become tyrants themselves. And because global power dynamics persist in neocolonial structures.
Wouldn’t that be enough to fuel a deeply depressing narrative? No—Bulawayo turns it into a blazing satire, full of wit and uncompromising criticism of power, a thread running through contemporary (not just) Zimbabwean history. The old warhorses in NoViolet Bulawayo’s Jidada, who continue to act as pack leaders, are easily recognizable as caricatures of the longtime dictator Robert Mugabe and his successor, current president Emmerson Mnangagwa.
The plot kicks off in high gear with independence day festivities. From the crack of dawn, everyone waits on Jidada Square for the Old Horse, the Father of the Nation and former liberator, whose reign "was nearing all of—not one, not two, not three, but four solid decades" (p.1). Everywhere, the colors of the Jidada Party shine; everywhere, true supporters cheer. Even the scorching sun plays its part: "At this point the sun, upon seeing arrive the leader who was decreed by God himself to rule and rule and keep ruling, a leader who'd in turn decreed the very sun to head his cheerleading squad, took a deep, deep breath and thoroughly blazed to impress" (p.2).
Finally, the Old Horse’s luxury carriage approaches "with the slowness of a hearse" (p.2), and "hoping to catch a glimpse of the legendary Father of the Nation," which causes "the animals fell over themselves like intoxicated frogs" (p.2). The sovereign’s speech is delayed a moment longer: "what I really want is a nap," groans the Old Horse as he takes his seat with such care "like his backside was made of expensive porcelain" (p.6).
Meanwhile, Bulawayo parades his entourage: the president’s wife (who earns her doctorate at Jidada University faster than "you could say diss, for dissertation. Tholukuthi it was as easy as ordering from a KFC drive-through, or perhaps even easier being that it was cheaper than KFC; it in fact cost her nothing and the degree actually came with a zero-calorie Diet Coke and a purple straw" (p.41), and she’s now known as Dr Sweet Mother. The cabinet includes "the Minister of the Revolution, the Minister of Corruption, the Minister of Order, the Minister of Things, the Minister of Nothing, the Minister of Propaganda, the Minister of Homophobic Affairs, the Minister of Disinformation and the Minister of Looting" (p.9). And of course the vice-president, who will soon become interim president when the Old Horse finally kicks the bucket—and then settle in as the new long-term president, who in the novel is called Tuvius Delight Shasha, or "Tuvy" for short (p.253), none other than Emmerson Mnangagwa. It’s him Bulawayo reserves her most merciless character description for.
"New Dispensation" (p.109) is Tuvy’s slogan for Jidada, and he loves repeating it so much he even named his parrot after it ("So inspired was Tuvy by the realisation that he rechristened his new pet parrot with the name New Dispensation—tholukuthi the bird having been acquired explicitly for the purposes of tweeting eulogies and accordingly glorifying the Saviour throughout the airs and skies of the nation. Tuvy then went on to hire a lecturer in English from the University of Jidada to teach New Dispensation to say the phrase 'New Dispensation'" p.110). But Tuvy’s Zimbabwe remains a nation without free, fair, and credible elections ("#freefairncredibleelection" p.161), and the promised equal treatment applies only insofar as Zimbabweans now queue up without discrimination in endless lines—and everyone is as poor as the next in the "queuenation" (p.283). Except for the powerful. They can "yes, tholukuthi, her immeasurable riches theirs to take. And take they did—
just take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take—take" (p.249-250).
In short: Bulawayo brilliantly depicts how former independence fighters become exploiters themselves. And how the country threatens to suffocate under the weight of corruption and repression. But she also literally stages the polyphony with which the people oppose imposed obedience to the official line.
Controversial online discussions keep interrupting the narrative—dialogues and social threads (see photo below) that Bulawayo masterfully integrates. From a literary standpoint, it’s a brilliant idea. And it shows, above all, that the author’s sympathy—so likeable—goes to all those who refuse to let their dream of true freedom be stolen, not even by the corrupt elites of their own country.
In the book’s acknowledgments, the first tribute goes to "The Jidadas of the world, clamouring for freedom on many fronts—A luta continua." (p.401) This reflects the realization that, not only in Jidada-Zimbabwe but in many other corners of the world, the end of colonial domination is still far from meaning the freedom hoped for by the vast majority of people. But it also means, more broadly, that this freedom must be won "on many fronts" (see above), both domestically and geopolitically.
That’s precisely what *Glory* so vividly highlights: how complex the project behind the term "postcolonialism" really is. With *Glory*, Bulawayo also delivers a scathing critique of the persistence of colonial mindsets in the West.
In the novel, the murder of George Floyd, racist police violence, and white-supremacist ideology in Trump’s United States perfectly illustrate the persistence of racism. It’s especially in the final chapters that Bulawayo lets Jidada’s inhabitants explicitly and unflinchingly criticize a neocolonial world order:
"It was not lost on us how the West, which loved to 'save' Africa and announce every action to the whole world, did so with one limb while manipulating, looting and fleecing us with the rest of its limbs so that more money in fact poured out of the continent than trickled in." (p.376)
"It was no mistake that multinational corporations yearly reaped and shipped colossal profits from Africa back to their countries as had been the case during colonial times. Even the sticks and stones would tell you that the African earth at any given time howled and shook and heaved from the extraction of its precious minerals that rarely benefited its own miserable children." (p.376)
"(...) we vowed to wage yet another war for Africa's second Liberation from neocolonial oppression. From exploitation. From plunder. From Western dominion. From indignity. From Abuse. We wanted real freedom. We wanted greedy, thieving paws off our wealth. We wanted Justice. We wanted a new world; we wanted a brand-new world so much we didn't sleep a wink that night." (p.377)
The Jidadas of this world must fight two enemies: Western neocolonialism and the autocratic instrumentalization of that argument; the persistence of Western racism and the populist appropriation of that humiliation by tyrants from their own ranks. Neither of these obstacles to freedom diminishes the historical and current guilt of the other. But the path to postcolonial liberation must overcome all these forms of oppression. After all, the colonizers didn’t bequeath democracies to formerly dominated nations, but instability and the principles of oppression and exploitation—which the so-called liberators have also internalized. Yet the fact that a satirical novel can capture the complexity of historical relationships while remaining, despite all the darkness of the subject, hilarious—well, that’s truly astonishing.
Finally, *Glory* ties into a major trauma in Zimbabwe’s post-independence history: the so-called Gukurahundi massacres. Between 1983 and 1987, tens of thousands of civilians were murdered by Mugabe’s bloody henchmen, most of them Ndebele. The State Security Minister and head of secret services at the time? You guessed it—Emmerson Mnangagwa.
When *Glory* turns to the massacres, the novel’s tone shifts completely. The story is now told through the narrative of the goat called Destiny, who, like NoViolet Bulawayo herself, left her home country at 18 for the United States and only returned after 13 years. In the book, the city of Bulawayo becomes a village where Destiny retraces her family’s history—and learns that part of it was also brutally murdered during the massacres.
The abuse of power and life under a dictatorship, dispossession, and a fiercely proud awareness of the psychological wounds and emotional vulnerability of a uprooted and disenfranchised people who had to forge a new language—a new set of names—to express their lived experiences are at the heart of this wonderful Zimbabwean author’s literary work, NoViolet Bulawayo. Shortly after her studies, she was already writing short stories about postcolonial power dynamics in Africa. But her playful, masterful, and often unconventional approach to language also plays a key role in her work. With virtuosity, she shifts from cynical images of power-obsessed elites to compassionate descriptions of the people’s suffering, ending with a hopeful sermon on courage—the courage to break free from fear and thus gain the strength for change ("And every one of them understood that whatever they heard within those hearts was the new national anthem, tholukuthi an anthem that spoke of the kind of glory that burns eternal and glows with living light." p.400). This novel is a genuine pleasure to read. And it’s exceptional. Good, African...
Book info (original English and German translation):
NoViolet Bulawayo. Glory. Chatto & Windus, 2022. NoViolet Bulawayo. Glory. Suhrkamp, 2023.
Hery
The books (in English, in German)
Author NoViolet Bulawayo, Zimbabwe
Threads (p.164-165)“When the Whites came to Africa, we had the land and they had the Bible. They taught us to pray with our eyes closed: when we opened them, the Whites had the land and we had the Bible.” Jomo Kenyatta (p.7)
The Maggi cube, an unchallenged hegemony, and so much more
“The hopeless continent,” headlined The Economist, a British magazine, in July 2000 about Africa. Eleven years later, the same magazine headlined “Africa rising” instead. Images of Africa in the prosperous North constantly oscillate between apocalyptic scenarios and enthusiastic projections. A key issue with such images lies in the generalization they entail. If you look at the continent, considerable contrasts emerge depending on space and time. It’s no surprise that a region of the world encompassing such diverse ecological zones, maintaining such varied ties with other continents, comprising nearly fifty nation-states in sub-Saharan Africa alone, and characterized by a great diversity of languages, belief systems, and historical paths, doesn’t share a single destiny.
And yet, for many people outside Africa, as well as for many Africans, the continent constitutes a single entity, defined by criteria such as skin color, a colonial past, poverty, and the art of survival. Until now, these perspectives were generally accompanied by the idea that Africa had to—or should have—followed a single path together, sometimes called development, sometimes modernization, sometimes liberation, then a market economy. None of these paths delivered on their promises.
The two writers Alain Mabanckou and Abdourahman Waberi—one from Congo, the other raised in Djibouti, both long settled in France and now professors at renowned North American universities (Los Angeles, Washington)—have had enough of pessimistic scenarios: “We are aware that Africa is in the world and the world is in Africa. The same goes for all other continents, as our destinies are inextricably linked for better or worse. We refuse to see Africa as a reservoir of misfortunes or a continent cursed by atavistic misfortune and characterized by ethnic conflicts. [...] It’s this passionate flame we wanted to capture in a book [...] a kind of stroll through African cultures, without any demands, each letter of the alphabet leading us to a notion, a practice, a concept, a moment in history, literature, painting, politics, economics, cuisine, etc.” (p.10-11). Africa, they write, is on the verge of “imposing a signature, a style, a way of being in the world and in relation to the rest of the world.” (p.11) To put words to the continent’s diversity and dynamism, the two authors created a “rambling ABC,” a kind of portrait—or more precisely, a mythography—that lets you see and feel the pulse of a vast continent whose cultural power is unfolding before our eyes. Once marginalized or even mocked, the voice and importance of the Continent in global affairs are now undeniable” (p.11), containing over a hundred entries, mostly concise, written in a relaxed and casual style. The optimistic, even exuberant tone is set from the brief introduction. The duo of authors wants to “sing a love song to the cultures of our continent, to its inhabitants past and present, to its exceptional resources and its spectacular globalization despite a certain pollution that still clouds our skies due to the unmatched duration of dictatorships in some of our regions.” (p.12) In doing so, they don’t want to be too distracted by today’s Afewerki-Biya-Bongo-Déby & Co. ...
Of course, you’ll find tributes to great precursors like Frantz Fanon (“[...] it was a love story and admiration that wasn’t dimmed by the four decades separating his birth from ours. Let’s add that we were born while the native of Fort-de-France had left the world’s stage four years earlier, in the prime of life” p.141), Mongo Beti (“You must read and reread Mongo Beti, a genius who used his fame to support often just causes in Africa, like defending oppressed groups. His place is already in History. His oppressors, like the dictators Ahmadou Ahidjo and Paul Biya, can’t compete in the same category” p.64), the Malian Amadou Hampâté Bâ
(“Posterity remembers him mainly as an tireless defender of African cultures. His plea for the collection and preservation of traditional African knowledge remains a major event for all men and women of good will. One day in 1960, at the UNESCO podium, the native of Bandiagara sounded the alarm: ‘[...] Since we’ve admitted that the humanity of each people is the heritage of all humanity, if African traditions aren’t collected in time and written down, they’ll one day be missing from the universal archives of humanity.’” p.51),
Kwame Nkrumah, “one of the founders of Pan-Africanism, father of Ghana’s independence” (p.239), as well as the historian Cheikh Anta Diop, the writer, poet, and politician Aimé Césaire, and the economist and thinker Samir Amin, but also very warm tributes to certain contemporary African intellectuals like Souleymane Bachir Diagne and Achille Mbembe
(“A few years ago, in dominant economic circles, a rumor often resurfaced, usually disguised as a cold and scientifically proven analysis: Africa is useless. It’s a burden for the rest of the human community. With its 2% share in world trade, it would disappear from stock market radars without anyone noticing. So? Maybe it’ll be pulled up by other continents. Wanting to surpass itself is a crazy bet for Africans, they concluded. Arrogant or clueless, President Nicolas Sarkozy declared before an audience of students and teachers at Cheikh Anta Diop University in Dakar: ‘The African man hasn’t entered history enough [...] He only knows the eternal repetition of time marked by the endless repetition of the same gestures and words.’ That was in 2007. For decades, armed only with reason, an intellectual often steps up to debunk prejudices, lazy readings, and dishonest frameworks used as false fronts by those who, like Nicolas Sarkozy or former journalist Stephen Smith, out of ignorance, contempt, or condescension, distort African reality. This intellectual is none other than the historian and political scientist Achille Mbembe. This heir of Frantz Fanon, Amílcar Cabral, Jean-Marc Ela, and Fabien Eboussi-Boulaga was born in 1957 in Cameroon, in the Bassa region. Marked early by the upheavals of a fratricidal war, Achille Mbembe became the guardian of the memory of martyrs. After brilliant studies in Paris, he went on to teach at the best American universities, but the call of the Continent was stronger than anything else. In Dakar, he once directed CODESRIA (Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa) before joining the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, South Africa. Even though the author of *Critique of Black Reason* (Éditions La Découverte, 2015) spends a few months at Duke University in North Carolina, his observation post remains South Africa. From Johannesburg, Achille Mbembe scrutinizes Africa and the whole world. A lucid observer with an elegant and generous pen, Achille Mbembe knows how to blend big and small history: ‘I was born one day in July, as the month was drawing to a close. It was 1957, in that part of Africa recently named ‘Cameroon,’ a memory of the wonder that seized Portuguese sailors in the 15th century when, sailing up the river near Douala, they couldn’t help but note the presence of a multitude of crustaceans, and named it *Rio dos Camarões*, meaning ‘River of Shrimp.’ I grew up in the shadow of this nameless land, since, in a way, the name it bears is only the product of someone else’s astonishment: a lexical mistake, if you will.’ From this mistake or wound, he made leaven, a springboard to compose a rich work, recognized worldwide. To denounce barriers and barbarians too. But that’s not enough. Among his peers in circles of thought and action, Achille Mbembe passionately and consistently defends human dignity and the beauty of the world. In doing so, he fulfills the mission Frantz Fanon entrusted to him.” (p.227-229),
as well as entries dedicated to lesser-known artists and intellectuals, like the French journalist and activist Rokhaya Diallo, daughter of Senegalese and Gambian parents, or the Ethiopian filmmaker Haile Gerima, who has long lived in the United States. Other names from politics, sports, music, art, and literature: Kofi Annan, p.36; Barack Obama, p.243; Thomas Sankara, p.277; Ousmane Sow, p.285; Yambo Ouologuem, p.250; Léopold Sédar Senghor, p.282; Muhammad Ali, p.30; Nuruddin Farah, p.146; Salif Keita, p.203; Ahmadou Kourouma, p.206; Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, p.236; Winnie Mandela, p.224; Kylian Mbappé, p.226 ...
The authors, who resolutely commit to a “mythography” (p.11) of Africa, also pay special attention to local social movements, cultural events, and aspects of daily life. *Y’en a marre*, “which also meant ‘we’re fed up with sitting on our hands’” (p.320-321), emerged about a decade ago in Senegal as a citizen movement of peaceful resistance and symbolizes, the authors emphasize, the fact that African youth are increasingly fed up “with the political circus deployed in Africa since independence, as our parents would say, ‘since the White man left’...” (p.321). A full entry is dedicated to the Maggi bouillon cube, which has flooded African markets for about forty years and enjoys immense popularity (“It’s everywhere in Africa, from Dakar to Djibouti, and from Tangier to Cape Town. It’s in every pot, every stew. Little hands put it in every sauce, every local or adapted dish. An unchallenged hegemony! You’ll find it in diasporas too. The culinary strolls in Paris, in the [...] neighborhood” p.90). Critics blame it not only for impoverishing the aromatic diversity of local dishes but also for being harmful to health. And yet, “he poorest Africans, those who eat only once a day, a few spoonfuls of white beans and a ball of *foufou*, for example, are the most fervent users of the magic cube.” (p.92-93)
For *fonio*, “the new trendy cereal. [...] From the millet family, fonio is probably the oldest cereal cultivated in West Africa, and mainly in its sub-Saharan part, for millennia. [...] Easy to grow, water-efficient, fonio grows everywhere except on clay soils. Long neglected because it was considered the poor man’s crop, fonio is now a source of pride for the farmers who cultivate it and cherish it like the apple of their eye” (p.156-157), the authors immediately offer a detailed recipe, letting the reader know that “e can’t resist sharing this fonio with chicken recipe from Mali with you:
Ingredients: 1 chicken 3 large ripe red tomatoes 4 tbsp tomato paste 4 large onions 1 garlic clove 1/2 cup oil 2 Maggi cubes or salt 2 large carrots 1 turnip 1 large cabbage 2 large potatoes 1 celery stalk 1 packet pre-cooked fonio 4 okra (or okra powder) salt, pepper
Preparation: 1. Prepare the sauce: wash and cut the chicken. Peel the onions, garlic, and vegetables. 2. In a pot, fry the chicken pieces. 3. Dice the onions, tomatoes, carrots, and turnip very small and add them to the pot. 4. Add the tomato paste, salt, and pepper. 5. Simmer for 15 min, then add 2 L of water and the cooked chicken pieces. 6. Simmer for 30 min, then add the crushed garlic and celery, plus the cabbage cut into 4 and the potatoes cut in half. 7. Prepare the fonio: cover it with warm water, let it rest for 15 min, and cook it over low heat. 8. In a small pot, boil the okra and crush them. 9. Mix the crushed okra with the cooked fonio, then salt. Serve hot.” (p.158-159)
The comedy *Black Mic Mac*, released in French theaters in 1986 and addressing France’s increasingly restrictive immigration policy at the time, also gets an entry, as do *Tintin in the Congo*, the popular comic, and *Jip’s Café* (“[...] a little Africa in the heart of Paris, with passersby stopping to admire the ‘ambianceurs’ on the dance floor or attend the cultural events offered by the place” (p.194), an African establishment in Paris that Alain Mabanckou already immortalized in one of his novels.
The duo of authors also tackles thorny subjects like jihadism (p.119), the Rwandan genocide (p.272), the CFA franc (p.82), and dictatorship (p.110). While the two strike the right tone here, many entries leave a slightly bitter taste. Two examples: why doesn’t the text on Barack Obama mention the great disappointment of many people in Africa, who expected more from the African policy of the first U.S. president with African roots than just occasional warm words? Why do the comments on Winnie Mandela gloss over the fact that she was a highly controversial icon of the anti-apartheid movement due to her involvement in kidnappings, acts of torture, and murders of alleged apartheid collaborators? Instead, there’s a compassion that brings tears to the eyes: “She was often reduced to a secondary role, the wife of a great man” or “When victory came, she didn’t taste its fruits. Divorced, isolated. She would never be a ‘first lady’ in an evening gown, posing before a bed of chrysanthemums. They’d keep her far from the circles of power” (p.224-225). At this point, I would’ve liked the authors to take a slightly more critical stance...
That said, these “weaknesses” (if you can call them that) shouldn’t overshadow the book as a whole. It remains an informative, sometimes very entertaining, and often even original work in its own way.
Book information (the original French and the German translation):
Alain Mabanckou/Abdourahman Waberi. Dictionnaire enjoué des cultures africaines. Fayard, 2019. Alain Mabanckou/Abdourahman Waberi. Der Puls Afrikas. Eine Liebeserklärung von A bis Z. Reclam, 2022.
Hery
The Maggi cube, an unchallenged hegemony, and so much more
“The hopeless continent,” headlined The Economist, a British magazine, in July 2000 about Africa. Eleven years later, the same magazine headlined “Africa rising” instead. Images of Africa in the prosperous North constantly oscillate between apocalyptic scenarios and enthusiastic projections. A key issue with such images lies in the generalization they entail. If you look at the continent, considerable contrasts emerge depending on space and time. It’s no surprise that a region of the world encompassing such diverse ecological zones, maintaining such varied ties with other continents, comprising nearly fifty nation-states in sub-Saharan Africa alone, and characterized by a great diversity of languages, belief systems, and historical paths, doesn’t share a single destiny.
And yet, for many people outside Africa, as well as for many Africans, the continent constitutes a single entity, defined by criteria such as skin color, a colonial past, poverty, and the art of survival. Until now, these perspectives were generally accompanied by the idea that Africa had to—or should have—followed a single path together, sometimes called development, sometimes modernization, sometimes liberation, then a market economy. None of these paths delivered on their promises.
The two writers Alain Mabanckou and Abdourahman Waberi—one from Congo, the other raised in Djibouti, both long settled in France and now professors at renowned North American universities (Los Angeles, Washington)—have had enough of pessimistic scenarios: “We are aware that Africa is in the world and the world is in Africa. The same goes for all other continents, as our destinies are inextricably linked for better or worse. We refuse to see Africa as a reservoir of misfortunes or a continent cursed by atavistic misfortune and characterized by ethnic conflicts. [...] It’s this passionate flame we wanted to capture in a book [...] a kind of stroll through African cultures, without any demands, each letter of the alphabet leading us to a notion, a practice, a concept, a moment in history, literature, painting, politics, economics, cuisine, etc.” (p.10-11). Africa, they write, is on the verge of “imposing a signature, a style, a way of being in the world and in relation to the rest of the world.” (p.11) To put words to the continent’s diversity and dynamism, the two authors created a “rambling ABC,” a kind of portrait—or more precisely, a mythography—that lets you see and feel the pulse of a vast continent whose cultural power is unfolding before our eyes. Once marginalized or even mocked, the voice and importance of the Continent in global affairs are now undeniable” (p.11), containing over a hundred entries, mostly concise, written in a relaxed and casual style. The optimistic, even exuberant tone is set from the brief introduction. The duo of authors wants to “sing a love song to the cultures of our continent, to its inhabitants past and present, to its exceptional resources and its spectacular globalization despite a certain pollution that still clouds our skies due to the unmatched duration of dictatorships in some of our regions.” (p.12) In doing so, they don’t want to be too distracted by today’s Afewerki-Biya-Bongo-Déby & Co. ...
Of course, you’ll find tributes to great precursors like Frantz Fanon (“[...] it was a love story and admiration that wasn’t dimmed by the four decades separating his birth from ours. Let’s add that we were born while the native of Fort-de-France had left the world’s stage four years earlier, in the prime of life” p.141), Mongo Beti (“You must read and reread Mongo Beti, a genius who used his fame to support often just causes in Africa, like defending oppressed groups. His place is already in History. His oppressors, like the dictators Ahmadou Ahidjo and Paul Biya, can’t compete in the same category” p.64), the Malian Amadou Hampâté Bâ
(“Posterity remembers him mainly as an tireless defender of African cultures. His plea for the collection and preservation of traditional African knowledge remains a major event for all men and women of good will. One day in 1960, at the UNESCO podium, the native of Bandiagara sounded the alarm: ‘[...] Since we’ve admitted that the humanity of each people is the heritage of all humanity, if African traditions aren’t collected in time and written down, they’ll one day be missing from the universal archives of humanity.’” p.51),
Kwame Nkrumah, “one of the founders of Pan-Africanism, father of Ghana’s independence” (p.239), as well as the historian Cheikh Anta Diop, the writer, poet, and politician Aimé Césaire, and the economist and thinker Samir Amin, but also very warm tributes to certain contemporary African intellectuals like Souleymane Bachir Diagne and Achille Mbembe
(“A few years ago, in dominant economic circles, a rumor often resurfaced, usually disguised as a cold and scientifically proven analysis: Africa is useless. It’s a burden for the rest of the human community. With its 2% share in world trade, it would disappear from stock market radars without anyone noticing. So? Maybe it’ll be pulled up by other continents. Wanting to surpass itself is a crazy bet for Africans, they concluded. Arrogant or clueless, President Nicolas Sarkozy declared before an audience of students and teachers at Cheikh Anta Diop University in Dakar: ‘The African man hasn’t entered history enough [...] He only knows the eternal repetition of time marked by the endless repetition of the same gestures and words.’ That was in 2007. For decades, armed only with reason, an intellectual often steps up to debunk prejudices, lazy readings, and dishonest frameworks used as false fronts by those who, like Nicolas Sarkozy or former journalist Stephen Smith, out of ignorance, contempt, or condescension, distort African reality. This intellectual is none other than the historian and political scientist Achille Mbembe. This heir of Frantz Fanon, Amílcar Cabral, Jean-Marc Ela, and Fabien Eboussi-Boulaga was born in 1957 in Cameroon, in the Bassa region. Marked early by the upheavals of a fratricidal war, Achille Mbembe became the guardian of the memory of martyrs. After brilliant studies in Paris, he went on to teach at the best American universities, but the call of the Continent was stronger than anything else. In Dakar, he once directed CODESRIA (Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa) before joining the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, South Africa. Even though the author of *Critique of Black Reason* (Éditions La Découverte, 2015) spends a few months at Duke University in North Carolina, his observation post remains South Africa. From Johannesburg, Achille Mbembe scrutinizes Africa and the whole world. A lucid observer with an elegant and generous pen, Achille Mbembe knows how to blend big and small history: ‘I was born one day in July, as the month was drawing to a close. It was 1957, in that part of Africa recently named ‘Cameroon,’ a memory of the wonder that seized Portuguese sailors in the 15th century when, sailing up the river near Douala, they couldn’t help but note the presence of a multitude of crustaceans, and named it *Rio dos Camarões*, meaning ‘River of Shrimp.’ I grew up in the shadow of this nameless land, since, in a way, the name it bears is only the product of someone else’s astonishment: a lexical mistake, if you will.’ From this mistake or wound, he made leaven, a springboard to compose a rich work, recognized worldwide. To denounce barriers and barbarians too. But that’s not enough. Among his peers in circles of thought and action, Achille Mbembe passionately and consistently defends human dignity and the beauty of the world. In doing so, he fulfills the mission Frantz Fanon entrusted to him.” (p.227-229),
as well as entries dedicated to lesser-known artists and intellectuals, like the French journalist and activist Rokhaya Diallo, daughter of Senegalese and Gambian parents, or the Ethiopian filmmaker Haile Gerima, who has long lived in the United States. Other names from politics, sports, music, art, and literature: Kofi Annan, p.36; Barack Obama, p.243; Thomas Sankara, p.277; Ousmane Sow, p.285; Yambo Ouologuem, p.250; Léopold Sédar Senghor, p.282; Muhammad Ali, p.30; Nuruddin Farah, p.146; Salif Keita, p.203; Ahmadou Kourouma, p.206; Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, p.236; Winnie Mandela, p.224; Kylian Mbappé, p.226 ...
The authors, who resolutely commit to a “mythography” (p.11) of Africa, also pay special attention to local social movements, cultural events, and aspects of daily life. *Y’en a marre*, “which also meant ‘we’re fed up with sitting on our hands’” (p.320-321), emerged about a decade ago in Senegal as a citizen movement of peaceful resistance and symbolizes, the authors emphasize, the fact that African youth are increasingly fed up “with the political circus deployed in Africa since independence, as our parents would say, ‘since the White man left’...” (p.321). A full entry is dedicated to the Maggi bouillon cube, which has flooded African markets for about forty years and enjoys immense popularity (“It’s everywhere in Africa, from Dakar to Djibouti, and from Tangier to Cape Town. It’s in every pot, every stew. Little hands put it in every sauce, every local or adapted dish. An unchallenged hegemony! You’ll find it in diasporas too. The culinary strolls in Paris, in the [...] neighborhood” p.90). Critics blame it not only for impoverishing the aromatic diversity of local dishes but also for being harmful to health. And yet, “he poorest Africans, those who eat only once a day, a few spoonfuls of white beans and a ball of *foufou*, for example, are the most fervent users of the magic cube.” (p.92-93)
For *fonio*, “the new trendy cereal. [...] From the millet family, fonio is probably the oldest cereal cultivated in West Africa, and mainly in its sub-Saharan part, for millennia. [...] Easy to grow, water-efficient, fonio grows everywhere except on clay soils. Long neglected because it was considered the poor man’s crop, fonio is now a source of pride for the farmers who cultivate it and cherish it like the apple of their eye” (p.156-157), the authors immediately offer a detailed recipe, letting the reader know that “e can’t resist sharing this fonio with chicken recipe from Mali with you:
Ingredients: 1 chicken 3 large ripe red tomatoes 4 tbsp tomato paste 4 large onions 1 garlic clove 1/2 cup oil 2 Maggi cubes or salt 2 large carrots 1 turnip 1 large cabbage 2 large potatoes 1 celery stalk 1 packet pre-cooked fonio 4 okra (or okra powder) salt, pepper
Preparation: 1. Prepare the sauce: wash and cut the chicken. Peel the onions, garlic, and vegetables. 2. In a pot, fry the chicken pieces. 3. Dice the onions, tomatoes, carrots, and turnip very small and add them to the pot. 4. Add the tomato paste, salt, and pepper. 5. Simmer for 15 min, then add 2 L of water and the cooked chicken pieces. 6. Simmer for 30 min, then add the crushed garlic and celery, plus the cabbage cut into 4 and the potatoes cut in half. 7. Prepare the fonio: cover it with warm water, let it rest for 15 min, and cook it over low heat. 8. In a small pot, boil the okra and crush them. 9. Mix the crushed okra with the cooked fonio, then salt. Serve hot.” (p.158-159)
The comedy *Black Mic Mac*, released in French theaters in 1986 and addressing France’s increasingly restrictive immigration policy at the time, also gets an entry, as do *Tintin in the Congo*, the popular comic, and *Jip’s Café* (“[...] a little Africa in the heart of Paris, with passersby stopping to admire the ‘ambianceurs’ on the dance floor or attend the cultural events offered by the place” (p.194), an African establishment in Paris that Alain Mabanckou already immortalized in one of his novels.
The duo of authors also tackles thorny subjects like jihadism (p.119), the Rwandan genocide (p.272), the CFA franc (p.82), and dictatorship (p.110). While the two strike the right tone here, many entries leave a slightly bitter taste. Two examples: why doesn’t the text on Barack Obama mention the great disappointment of many people in Africa, who expected more from the African policy of the first U.S. president with African roots than just occasional warm words? Why do the comments on Winnie Mandela gloss over the fact that she was a highly controversial icon of the anti-apartheid movement due to her involvement in kidnappings, acts of torture, and murders of alleged apartheid collaborators? Instead, there’s a compassion that brings tears to the eyes: “She was often reduced to a secondary role, the wife of a great man” or “When victory came, she didn’t taste its fruits. Divorced, isolated. She would never be a ‘first lady’ in an evening gown, posing before a bed of chrysanthemums. They’d keep her far from the circles of power” (p.224-225). At this point, I would’ve liked the authors to take a slightly more critical stance...
That said, these “weaknesses” (if you can call them that) shouldn’t overshadow the book as a whole. It remains an informative, sometimes very entertaining, and often even original work in its own way.
Book information (the original French and the German translation):
Alain Mabanckou/Abdourahman Waberi. Dictionnaire enjoué des cultures africaines. Fayard, 2019. Alain Mabanckou/Abdourahman Waberi. Der Puls Afrikas. Eine Liebeserklärung von A bis Z. Reclam, 2022.
Hery

Hi,
We’re going on a guided trip to South Africa. I’d love to know which guidebook is the most interesting: Routard, Lonely Planet, Michelin, Guide Vert, or Hachette’s Guide Voir.
Thanks so much for your advice. Marie
Hi, I'm looking for a good (digital) wildlife and bird guide for South Africa.
I'm planning a 2-month road trip through the parks and tourist spots.
I'm torn between *Duncan Butcher’s Wildlife of South Africa*, *Wildlife of Southern Africa Collins Traveller Guide*, and *Newman’s Birds Guide* for birds. Any other suggestions?! It can be in English, French, or Spanish! Thanks
I'm torn between *Duncan Butcher’s Wildlife of South Africa*, *Wildlife of Southern Africa Collins Traveller Guide*, and *Newman’s Birds Guide* for birds. Any other suggestions?! It can be in English, French, or Spanish! Thanks
Hi there,
I’m looking to watch films and series with my Thai girlfriend :-) I was wondering if you know of any sites where we can watch films or series in Thai or French with Thai or French subtitles ^^ We sometimes watch in English with English or Thai subtitles, but it’s quite hard for me ^^ I have to concentrate, and it’s not really enjoyable.
Thanks :-)
I’m looking to watch films and series with my Thai girlfriend :-) I was wondering if you know of any sites where we can watch films or series in Thai or French with Thai or French subtitles ^^ We sometimes watch in English with English or Thai subtitles, but it’s quite hard for me ^^ I have to concentrate, and it’s not really enjoyable.
Thanks :-)
Hi there,
Nice feature on the haenyeo and the gorgeous Jeju ❤️
South Korea: The Island of Women Divers | TF1 Info
Nice feature on the haenyeo and the gorgeous Jeju ❤️
South Korea: The Island of Women Divers | TF1 Info
Hi there,
I have a few GEO and Grands Reportages magazines in very good condition to give away. They date from 2006 to 2011.
If you're interested, please DM me.
I have a few GEO and Grands Reportages magazines in very good condition to give away. They date from 2006 to 2011.
If you're interested, please DM me.
Hi,
Could someone recommend a good book to help me recognize the animals I’ll come across in Namibia???
Thanks in advance! Tit&Lou
Departure planned for September 16, 2008!!
Could someone recommend a good book to help me recognize the animals I’ll come across in Namibia???
Thanks in advance! Tit&Lou
Departure planned for September 16, 2008!!
Hi,
I just finished reading Lettres de Barcelone by Caroline Leblanc. It's a collection of letters without a recipient that the author wrote during her 3 years of expatriation in Barcelona. So it's an inside look at the city, off the beaten path, even though the major tourist spots are also part of the scenery.
It's full of humor, very open to current events, the history of the city, Catalonia, and Spain. I really enjoyed it. 🙂
Hi there, I traveled to the Sultanate of Oman last January and had the book *Oman Off Road* in digital format in English, plus a second version in French. For anyone planning their trip, if this book interests you, don’t hesitate to reach out—it’s a real bible for off-the-beaten-path travel. Here’s my email for direct contact:
xavierpous@orange.fr
Or through Voyage Forum, which we’re always happy to use.
Take a step back, forget your bearings, and momentarily set aside the boxes we use to categorize life: humans on one side, animals on the other. Immerse yourself in that unsettling zone where man, stripped of his humanity, and the beast—capable of emotions and sensitivity—stand face to face.
Who is the predator, who is the prey? Where do fear, barbarism, or extreme violence lie, and where do compassion and philosophy reside?
In this book steeped in anthropomorphism, Stéphanie Artarit weaves a cruel plot and pushes the boundaries of darkness without ever wallowing in the grim or sordid.
A story of love and vengeance, of fierce beasts and humans, where the abominable, the unbearable, and the unthinkable are pierced by the candor and fragile luminosity of the heroine, Bambi, around whom (very) dark passions rage.
The action takes place in the Pyrenees in the mid-1970s. A dilapidated, isolated house, the theater of the unthinkable, where a shattered family ignored by social services lives—or survives: a missing father, a helpless mother, two degenerate twins, Sam and Valerien, a violent older brother, Martin, an absolute bastard, a dog... and a young adolescent, Bambi, the precarious pillar of this teetering balance. To escape this hopeless daily life, she regularly finds refuge in a nearby zoo. Caught during yet another sneaky visit, she is taken to the owner of the place, Noel Rivière, who, moved by her misery (and her ethereal, unreal beauty...), hires her as an apprentice.
This could have been the start of a fairy tale, redemption through love, the bastard permanently neutralized... and a breather for the reader.
But no.
The zoo serves as the backdrop for the second part of the story, which introduces new characters... a little girl, Feline, and a chimpanzee, Adam, placed in an isolated enclosure upon arrival because he was aggressive and unable to live among his own kind.
Humans with primitive animality, animals with astonishing humanity... a deranged, fierce, and heartbreaking Jungle Book. A noir novel with fluid, poetic writing.
A breathless read, almost devoured in one go (in two sittings) because it’s impossible to catch your breath before finding out how far the author will push the limits and what fate she has in store for her characters...
You Don’t Eat Cannibals Stéphanie ARTARIT Belfond Noir
In this book steeped in anthropomorphism, Stéphanie Artarit weaves a cruel plot and pushes the boundaries of darkness without ever wallowing in the grim or sordid.
A story of love and vengeance, of fierce beasts and humans, where the abominable, the unbearable, and the unthinkable are pierced by the candor and fragile luminosity of the heroine, Bambi, around whom (very) dark passions rage.
The action takes place in the Pyrenees in the mid-1970s. A dilapidated, isolated house, the theater of the unthinkable, where a shattered family ignored by social services lives—or survives: a missing father, a helpless mother, two degenerate twins, Sam and Valerien, a violent older brother, Martin, an absolute bastard, a dog... and a young adolescent, Bambi, the precarious pillar of this teetering balance. To escape this hopeless daily life, she regularly finds refuge in a nearby zoo. Caught during yet another sneaky visit, she is taken to the owner of the place, Noel Rivière, who, moved by her misery (and her ethereal, unreal beauty...), hires her as an apprentice.
This could have been the start of a fairy tale, redemption through love, the bastard permanently neutralized... and a breather for the reader.
But no.
The zoo serves as the backdrop for the second part of the story, which introduces new characters... a little girl, Feline, and a chimpanzee, Adam, placed in an isolated enclosure upon arrival because he was aggressive and unable to live among his own kind.
Humans with primitive animality, animals with astonishing humanity... a deranged, fierce, and heartbreaking Jungle Book. A noir novel with fluid, poetic writing.
A breathless read, almost devoured in one go (in two sittings) because it’s impossible to catch your breath before finding out how far the author will push the limits and what fate she has in store for her characters...
You Don’t Eat Cannibals Stéphanie ARTARIT Belfond Noir
Hi there,
Planning a trip to AOTEAROA in Feb 2026, I’m starting to gather info.
After several attempts searching in local bookshops and online, it seems this guide is no longer published—meaning it’s impossible to find a new French copy.
You can find used ones online, but only in English...
Lonely Planet has released a new "version" of their New Zealand guide, but it’s not really a "Guide" anymore—it’s called "Best Itineraries."
So, my question: Does anyone have a French-language Lonely Planet New Zealand guide from a not-too-old edition? For sale second-hand?
Or
Any recommendations for another guidebook-style book from a different publisher?
Thanks in advance!
Claude
So, my question: Does anyone have a French-language Lonely Planet New Zealand guide from a not-too-old edition? For sale second-hand?
Or
Any recommendations for another guidebook-style book from a different publisher?
Thanks in advance!
Claude
Mountain chronicle from the Hautes Vosges radio station. The last broadcast before summer. It won’t be about long-distance hiking or alpine feats, but rather an equally astonishing adventure that involved thousands of airmen supplying China as it fought against Japan during World War II: the air bridge over the Himalayas.
https://www.resonance-fm.com/podcast/2706%20chronique%20montagne%20The%20Hump%20la%20liaison%20a%C3%A9rienne%20Inde%20Chine%20au%20dessus%20de%20l'Himalaya%20.MP3
https://www.resonance-fm.com/podcast/2706%20chronique%20montagne%20The%20Hump%20la%20liaison%20a%C3%A9rienne%20Inde%20Chine%20au%20dessus%20de%20l'Himalaya%20.MP3
It seems like it's hard to find the book *Compagnon de Safari*, which is a guide to the wildlife of Namibia and Botswana.
Actually, you can order it directly from the author, Caroline Oriol.
http://guide-faune.voyage-namibie.fr/
It’s quick—you’ll get it by mail in 2 days! !
It’s quick—you’ll get it by mail in 2 days! !
Hi there,
As a follow-up to the exhibition "Royal Bronzes of Angkor" organized by the Guimet Museum (Paris), France 5 is airing a documentary called "Angkor, The Mystery of the Bronze Temples."
You can already watch it on replay.
https://www.france.tv/documentaires/documentaires-science/7241768-angkor-le-mystere-des-temples-de-bronze.html
All you need to do is create an account. It’s free and no commitment required.


Sometimes a trip, a desire to travel, a travel dream... begins between the pages of a book.
These three invite you to Scotland, on the Isle of Lewis. And although they’re published by Babel Noir, Actes Sud’s collection dedicated to crime novels with a dark atmosphere, and even though each book features a crime to solve, these three stories go far beyond the genre.
The central character, Fin, a man who wasn’t gifted with lightness or whimsy at birth, used to be a cop. He isn’t anymore, having left the police after a personal tragedy... A crime with a modus operandi similar to a case he was handling brings him back to Lewis... He’ll stay there. Because the time seems right for him to retrace the steps of his own story... a story deeply rooted in this land of melancholic geography, this island battered and rebattered by the winds, frozen in the past, where beliefs and traditions endure, defying time.
This austere island where his tender years were bruised. This harsh land that closes in on the dead... and returns them to the living years later, when the time seems right for them to put their childhood to rest, by facing the figures and ghosts that once crossed it.
Past and present intertwine, the memories of one explaining and perhaps unraveling the shadows of the other... and it’s only by confronting the darkness that he’ll find a strength he didn’t know he had, one that may—likely will—help him overcome the unspeakable.
In each book, Peter May, like a historian and anthropologist rolled into one, explores a page of the past, highlighting some of Scotland’s darker chapters: the omnipresence of religion, the conflict between Protestants and Catholics, the rituals marking the passage into adulthood, the terrible fate of orphans... the shadowy corners of the human soul.
A poetic, dense, and minimalist writing style that cuts to the essence, with just the right words to describe childhood, solitude, second chances—those who offer them and those who seize them—the weight of things... and happiness sometimes so close yet not always allowed to be grasped.
Three intense stories set in the same landscape: nature ever-present, the icy dampness, the slippery machair, the dry peat that fuels the fires... and Gaelic, that language with its harsh, guttural, rugged sounds?... which isn’t pronounced exactly as it’s written.
Peter May The Scottish Trilogy, Complete edition by Éditions du Rouergue Or In paperback, Actes Sud publisher, Babel Noir collection 1/ The Blackhouse 2/ The Lewis Man 3/ The Chessmen
The central character, Fin, a man who wasn’t gifted with lightness or whimsy at birth, used to be a cop. He isn’t anymore, having left the police after a personal tragedy... A crime with a modus operandi similar to a case he was handling brings him back to Lewis... He’ll stay there. Because the time seems right for him to retrace the steps of his own story... a story deeply rooted in this land of melancholic geography, this island battered and rebattered by the winds, frozen in the past, where beliefs and traditions endure, defying time.
This austere island where his tender years were bruised. This harsh land that closes in on the dead... and returns them to the living years later, when the time seems right for them to put their childhood to rest, by facing the figures and ghosts that once crossed it.
Past and present intertwine, the memories of one explaining and perhaps unraveling the shadows of the other... and it’s only by confronting the darkness that he’ll find a strength he didn’t know he had, one that may—likely will—help him overcome the unspeakable.
In each book, Peter May, like a historian and anthropologist rolled into one, explores a page of the past, highlighting some of Scotland’s darker chapters: the omnipresence of religion, the conflict between Protestants and Catholics, the rituals marking the passage into adulthood, the terrible fate of orphans... the shadowy corners of the human soul.
A poetic, dense, and minimalist writing style that cuts to the essence, with just the right words to describe childhood, solitude, second chances—those who offer them and those who seize them—the weight of things... and happiness sometimes so close yet not always allowed to be grasped.
Three intense stories set in the same landscape: nature ever-present, the icy dampness, the slippery machair, the dry peat that fuels the fires... and Gaelic, that language with its harsh, guttural, rugged sounds?... which isn’t pronounced exactly as it’s written.
Peter May The Scottish Trilogy, Complete edition by Éditions du Rouergue Or In paperback, Actes Sud publisher, Babel Noir collection 1/ The Blackhouse 2/ The Lewis Man 3/ The Chessmen
Tonight on Channel 5
Échappées belles in SENEGAL
https://television.telerama.fr/tele/magazine/echappees-belles,6640,emission162356169.php
https://television.telerama.fr/tele/magazine/echappees-belles,6640,emission162356169.php
Hi there,
I’m looking for links to the five episodes of the excellent 2014 France Culture podcast series called Pages from Nicolas Bouvier’s *The Way to the Orient*.
The episodes are: 1) Belgrade, 2) Tehran, 3) Afghanistan, 4) Ceylon, 5) Japan.
Unfortunately, they’re no longer available on France Culture.
Here’s the (expired) link to episode 1: https://www.radiofrance.fr/franceculture/podcasts/fictions-le-feuilleton/belgrade-9795251.
Maybe someone on this forum has downloaded these episodes or shared them on other platforms—like a blog, social media, or elsewhere.
Thanks so much in advance for any help!
Aude
For the kids and/or for us, do you have any good book recommendations for identifying and learning about the animals of Namibia (or Southern Africa)?
Hello to all travel lovers!
I'm leaving for several weeks to accompany groups in Namibia (I'm over the moon). It's a country I know because I've already spent three months there.
I'll be talking about culture, geography, history... but I'd also like to see my "clients" touched by the wildlife, maybe more specifically the birds. Unfortunately, I'm a lousy ornithologist.
:-p
So, if you could recommend a book on the world of birds we're about to see, that would be... awesome!
For those who are on the same journey as me and to avoid duplicates, here are the ones I've found (but haven't bought yet):
- *Compagnon de safari* by Oriol (2003) ??
- *Les oiseaux de l'ouest africain* by Serle and Morel (2005) ??
- *Guide des mammifères d'Afrique* by Kingdom (2013) ?? (No, birds aren't mammals!!)
- And then... that's not much 😕
Haven't found anything specific to Namibia.
So there you go, thank you all, and I wish you a very happy journey too!
I rarely post on the forum, but I've talked (well... written) a lot. Thanks for your attention! :-)
Nathaniel. (For those interested, I could share the link to photos from my previous trips.)
Beace!
I rarely post on the forum, but I've talked (well... written) a lot. Thanks for your attention! :-)
Nathaniel. (For those interested, I could share the link to photos from my previous trips.)
Beace!
In this charming open-air library, I came across a novel by Perumal Murugan, a Tamil writer and professor of Tamil literature, sometimes controversial because he’s accused of advocating too strongly for women’s rights.
It’s a harsh novel about love and caste. The love between Kumaresan and Saroja in today’s rural India.
The title: *The Pyre*(A belated tribute on this forum)
Abdulrazak Gurnah, an author with a unique journey and identity (Tanzania)
Big surprise in Stockholm: the 2021 Nobel Prize in Literature was awarded to novelist Abdulrazak Gurnah. The Tanzanian author, who writes in English, is best known for his novels Paradise (1994) and By the Sea (2001). He was recognized for his "uncompromising and compassionate portrayal of the effects of colonialism and the fate of refugees caught between cultures and continents", according to the Nobel Committee.His work moves away from "stereotypical descriptions and opens our eyes to a culturally diverse East Africa that is little known in many parts of the world".
Gurnah is the first African author since 2003 to win the prestigious prize, and the fifth from the African continent overall—following Wole Soyinka (1986), Naguib Mahfouz (1988), Nadine Gordimer (1991), and J.M. Coetzee (2003). Once again, the prize passed over Kenyan Ngugi wa Thiong’o, who has long been among the favorites for the award.
Born in Zanzibar (now part of Tanzania) in 1948, Abdulrazak Gurnah grew up in an Arab family originally from Yemen. He sought refuge in the UK in the late 1960s, a few years after independence, at a time when the Muslim minority there was being persecuted. He wasn’t able to return to Zanzibar until 1984.
Since 1987, he has published around ten novels and several short stories in English (his native language is Swahili). None have become bestsellers, but his body of work as a whole offers a different perspective on issues like immigration and cultural diversity. His work sheds light on the effects of colonialism, exile, and the plight of refugees, "speaking" of his love for Africa and his fight against neocolonialism. Though Gurnah’s stories aren’t explicitly autobiographical, they’re inspired by his life as an immigrant in the UK.
Gurnah was also a professor of English and postcolonial literature at the University of Kent in Canterbury until his recent retirement.
Does this award bring more attention to African literature? Who knows? At the very least, it might give it a boost. If African literature is less visible in the West, it’s partly because it isn’t widely accessible: Gurnah is rarely translated into French or German, and not at all into Arabic.
In Tanzania and its Zanzibar archipelago, he’s being celebrated with joy. "This means a lot for Zanzibar’s struggle for self-determination," says Ismail Jussa, a literary critic from Zanzibar. "It helps put Zanzibar back on the map." The Swedish Committee acknowledged that his work has helped understand "the divisions caused by colonialists, but also the heartbreak of being torn between the homeland one comes from and the life of exile one is forced into."
By the Sea. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2001 (Fr.: Près de la Mer. Galaade Éd., 2006)
Paradise. Bloomsbury Publishing, 1994/2004 (Fr.: Paradis. Motifs, 1999)
Desertion. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2005 (Fr.: Adieu Zanzibar. Galaade Éd., 2009)
Afterlives. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2020 (Fr.: Les vies d’après. Denoël, 2023)
Hery
Abdulrazak Gurnah, an author with a unique journey and identity (Tanzania)
Big surprise in Stockholm: the 2021 Nobel Prize in Literature was awarded to novelist Abdulrazak Gurnah. The Tanzanian author, who writes in English, is best known for his novels Paradise (1994) and By the Sea (2001). He was recognized for his "uncompromising and compassionate portrayal of the effects of colonialism and the fate of refugees caught between cultures and continents", according to the Nobel Committee.His work moves away from "stereotypical descriptions and opens our eyes to a culturally diverse East Africa that is little known in many parts of the world".
Gurnah is the first African author since 2003 to win the prestigious prize, and the fifth from the African continent overall—following Wole Soyinka (1986), Naguib Mahfouz (1988), Nadine Gordimer (1991), and J.M. Coetzee (2003). Once again, the prize passed over Kenyan Ngugi wa Thiong’o, who has long been among the favorites for the award.
Born in Zanzibar (now part of Tanzania) in 1948, Abdulrazak Gurnah grew up in an Arab family originally from Yemen. He sought refuge in the UK in the late 1960s, a few years after independence, at a time when the Muslim minority there was being persecuted. He wasn’t able to return to Zanzibar until 1984.
Since 1987, he has published around ten novels and several short stories in English (his native language is Swahili). None have become bestsellers, but his body of work as a whole offers a different perspective on issues like immigration and cultural diversity. His work sheds light on the effects of colonialism, exile, and the plight of refugees, "speaking" of his love for Africa and his fight against neocolonialism. Though Gurnah’s stories aren’t explicitly autobiographical, they’re inspired by his life as an immigrant in the UK.
Gurnah was also a professor of English and postcolonial literature at the University of Kent in Canterbury until his recent retirement.
Does this award bring more attention to African literature? Who knows? At the very least, it might give it a boost. If African literature is less visible in the West, it’s partly because it isn’t widely accessible: Gurnah is rarely translated into French or German, and not at all into Arabic.
In Tanzania and its Zanzibar archipelago, he’s being celebrated with joy. "This means a lot for Zanzibar’s struggle for self-determination," says Ismail Jussa, a literary critic from Zanzibar. "It helps put Zanzibar back on the map." The Swedish Committee acknowledged that his work has helped understand "the divisions caused by colonialists, but also the heartbreak of being torn between the homeland one comes from and the life of exile one is forced into."
By the Sea. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2001 (Fr.: Près de la Mer. Galaade Éd., 2006)
Paradise. Bloomsbury Publishing, 1994/2004 (Fr.: Paradis. Motifs, 1999)
Desertion. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2005 (Fr.: Adieu Zanzibar. Galaade Éd., 2009)
Afterlives. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2020 (Fr.: Les vies d’après. Denoël, 2023)
Hery
I just read this introduction
https://www.isabelleetlevelo.fr/2024/11/27/les-archives-de-lucien-peraire-enfin-prises-en-charge/
Then I went to the site created by La Maison des Sciences de l’Homme.
https://peraire.huma-num.fr/
It’s a scholarly site, an inventory of all the documents from his journey.
I read the presentation of his travel journals.
https://peraire.huma-num.fr/introduction.php
I was immediately won over by the man and the excerpts from his travel journals. What he writes feels like documentation of the peoples and societies he encountered, along with reflections that lead to broader thoughts on our humanity.
It really whets the appetite. Unfortunately, Éditions Garnier gave up on publishing his account. Péraire self-published it under the title *À travers le monde à vélo et en espéranto*, but it seems impossible to find.
The French journals are readable on the site, but they’re facsimiles. They’re handwritten and in an uncomfortable format—PDF. Plus, the ink has faded in parts.
Happy travels
https://www.isabelleetlevelo.fr/2024/11/27/les-archives-de-lucien-peraire-enfin-prises-en-charge/
Then I went to the site created by La Maison des Sciences de l’Homme.
https://peraire.huma-num.fr/
It’s a scholarly site, an inventory of all the documents from his journey.
I read the presentation of his travel journals.
https://peraire.huma-num.fr/introduction.php
I was immediately won over by the man and the excerpts from his travel journals. What he writes feels like documentation of the peoples and societies he encountered, along with reflections that lead to broader thoughts on our humanity.
It really whets the appetite. Unfortunately, Éditions Garnier gave up on publishing his account. Péraire self-published it under the title *À travers le monde à vélo et en espéranto*, but it seems impossible to find.
The French journals are readable on the site, but they’re facsimiles. They’re handwritten and in an uncomfortable format—PDF. Plus, the ink has faded in parts.
Happy travels
Hello,
Some travel to the ends of the Earth to climb Everest, but I set off more modestly to take on a challenge just as beautiful and demanding: walking the entire coast of Brittany.
Four months on the land of my ancestors... Four months with my thoughts... Four months living an adventure that changed my life...
No mountain to climb, no extreme weather conditions—just following the ocean and putting one foot in front of the other for 2,100 km to connect Saint-Nazaire to Mont Saint-Michel along the Customs Officers' Path.
I’d never walked that many days in a row. No performance to achieve, no record to break—just a path I followed. More than a path, I’d say it was a journey. I let my steps carry me, gradually letting go of the plan I’d set for myself to truly embrace the moment. I lived one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. An unforgettable adventure filled with encounters, joy, tears, and powerful moments etched into my memory. How could I not be touched by the warmth of the Bretons who opened their doors—and above all, their hearts—to me?
I cried tears of happiness. It felt so good. I felt alive, present, connected to myself and to others. I celebrated life. Everything reminded me of the luck I had to be on Earth. Everything amazed me—from the sound of the waves to the songs of birds, the endless colors of the sea, and the wind rushing through the trees, not to mention all the little signs life sent my way. I loved all those "chances" (were they really just coincidences?), all those unexpected encounters. Yes, life is beautiful! This path reminded me of the luck I have to be alive and here on this Earth. When you wake up every day to the sound of nature, how can you not appreciate your existence?
Everyone walks for a reason, whether it’s the Camino de Santiago or the Customs Officers' Path—it’s first and foremost a personal journey. I wanted to experience long-distance walking to discover new things. I got my share of answers, but also new questions. I wrote in my travel journal every day to remember every moment, every sensation, every encounter, every thought.
Now, it’s time to share this adventure with as many people as possible through a book I’ve been working on for two years... Readers’ feedback has been unanimous: "It’s simply a brilliant book."
I truly hope it will inspire you and give you the desire to pursue your own dreams too.
The book is available in bookstores, on Amazon, and on my website GR34 Aventure if you’d like a signed copy.
Thank you
Some travel to the ends of the Earth to climb Everest, but I set off more modestly to take on a challenge just as beautiful and demanding: walking the entire coast of Brittany.
Four months on the land of my ancestors... Four months with my thoughts... Four months living an adventure that changed my life...
No mountain to climb, no extreme weather conditions—just following the ocean and putting one foot in front of the other for 2,100 km to connect Saint-Nazaire to Mont Saint-Michel along the Customs Officers' Path.
I’d never walked that many days in a row. No performance to achieve, no record to break—just a path I followed. More than a path, I’d say it was a journey. I let my steps carry me, gradually letting go of the plan I’d set for myself to truly embrace the moment. I lived one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. An unforgettable adventure filled with encounters, joy, tears, and powerful moments etched into my memory. How could I not be touched by the warmth of the Bretons who opened their doors—and above all, their hearts—to me?
I cried tears of happiness. It felt so good. I felt alive, present, connected to myself and to others. I celebrated life. Everything reminded me of the luck I had to be on Earth. Everything amazed me—from the sound of the waves to the songs of birds, the endless colors of the sea, and the wind rushing through the trees, not to mention all the little signs life sent my way. I loved all those "chances" (were they really just coincidences?), all those unexpected encounters. Yes, life is beautiful! This path reminded me of the luck I have to be alive and here on this Earth. When you wake up every day to the sound of nature, how can you not appreciate your existence?
Everyone walks for a reason, whether it’s the Camino de Santiago or the Customs Officers' Path—it’s first and foremost a personal journey. I wanted to experience long-distance walking to discover new things. I got my share of answers, but also new questions. I wrote in my travel journal every day to remember every moment, every sensation, every encounter, every thought.
Now, it’s time to share this adventure with as many people as possible through a book I’ve been working on for two years... Readers’ feedback has been unanimous: "It’s simply a brilliant book."
I truly hope it will inspire you and give you the desire to pursue your own dreams too.
The book is available in bookstores, on Amazon, and on my website GR34 Aventure if you’d like a signed copy.
Thank you
I just came across an incredible magazine: America. Nearly 200 pages per issue. This quarterly, which will only be published during Trump’s presidency, gives a voice to the greatest French and American writers to try to understand America in the age of Donald Trump through reports, investigations, major interviews, and columns.
Issue 5 (america.aboshop.fr/...n/product-article/11) is entirely dedicated to what we all love here and is titled "What Remains of Wild America?" It covers wide-open spaces, nature, national parks, and shows how Trump has launched a systematic demolition of America’s environmental legacy. I’m thinking of buying the whole collection because this magazine is truly extraordinary.
Issue 5 (america.aboshop.fr/...n/product-article/11) is entirely dedicated to what we all love here and is titled "What Remains of Wild America?" It covers wide-open spaces, nature, national parks, and shows how Trump has launched a systematic demolition of America’s environmental legacy. I’m thinking of buying the whole collection because this magazine is truly extraordinary.
Hello everyone. Colombia is a country that has been plagued by clichés for decades—often unflattering ones—that, of course, don’t reflect (or only in a very caricatured way) the realities. Having lived in Cali for eight years, where I worked, I discovered a land full of life, colors, and diversity. If you're planning to explore this country that gave birth to the myth of El Dorado (which, by the way, is the name of Bogotá’s airport), you can certainly pick up the various guides published about it. For my part, I’d like to recommend one of the rare "beautiful books" (photos and text) dedicated to this country. It’s just been released by Géorama and is titled *Colombia, Magia de la Vida*. Click here to learn more by browsing the official site. I’m the author, and I’m happy to answer any questions or comments about Colombia or this book. Thanks, and happy travels!
A fascinating documentary about a Khmer treasure discovered in the Savannakhet region. The documentary places this discovery within the cultural environment of the Khmer era, from Wat Phu (Champassak - Laos) to Angkor (Cambodia).
https://www.arte.tv/fr/videos/116856-000-A/laos-le-tresor-oublie-de-la-civilisation-khmere/
Bonjour à tous,
Je compte voyager en Grande-Bretagne (quand cette crise sera finie) et voudrais savoir quels livres vous me conseilleriez pour la découvrir en termes d'histoire, de culture, de politique, etc. ; et je recherche des œuvres littéraires comme des romans, des récits de voyages ou des essais, pas pas des guides de voyages.
Merci,
Caro
Je compte voyager en Grande-Bretagne (quand cette crise sera finie) et voudrais savoir quels livres vous me conseilleriez pour la découvrir en termes d'histoire, de culture, de politique, etc. ; et je recherche des œuvres littéraires comme des romans, des récits de voyages ou des essais, pas pas des guides de voyages.
Merci,
Caro





