There was a chapas strike in Maputo, there was tear gas, there were people peregrinating with huge tongue-out staffs on the roads, and our government's solution was to put a patch of subsidy on that old transport fabric. Our life is made of subsidies. A few years ago, when the bakeries decided to put in more yeast....
Category: Opinions
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Are legs important in building the country?
I had a hunchbacked geography teacher who the first big lesson he gave us on the first day of school was about the location of the national library downtown. I don't forget that teacher walking up the stairs of the school and the shadow of his hunchback, attached to his body, crawling up the stairs like a...
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Open Letter to HIS EXCELLENCY Filipe Jacinto Nyusi - President of the Republic of Mozambique
A text by the Mozambican writer Lino Eustáquio Your Excellency, I am writing this letter to you as a humble and simple Mozambican citizen who seeks to make himself heard in the face of the repeated and already customary occurrences related to the assault and trivialization of our National Education System. Your Excellency, in recent times, we have witnessed, in a recurrent manner, the...
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"That's life, buddy. Who doesn't like to live?"
I ran with my belongings to give to a friend who already had his bags packed and was running out of time to return to Maputo. I wanted him to put me in his suitcase. I did everything in a hurry, so that the little box of homesickness made a noise like a mug...
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"Tomorrow you will leave here", Pascoal Mocumbi
In that room, at Jose Macamo Hospital, we were a herd of patients eating sleep debris and grass on the beds of dirty sheets. My God, the nurses came dragging tubes of serum and we were the herd. Each patient had his own shepherd who stuck needles in him, who fixed the sheet in the corner of the bed,...
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The return of Carlos Cardoso...
Carlos Cardoso woke up from death. He opened with his fingers the bullet buttons that closed the humid air of his life. The bullet shells fell empty of death on Cardoso's feet. He eyed the traffic that spilled pounds of horns on the road. His spine squawked like the hinges of a varnished door.
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Remains of a former Mozambican immigrant in Portugal
The death of Felismão Filimão, in the entire neighborhood, was not known until a week later. It was the odor bubbles that injected the neighborhood that aroused everyone's attention. The flies, drugged by the strong smell that came from a place that was not yet known, swarmed all over the neighborhood like militiamen...
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The roots that ended with the Trindade editor...
As an intern, the first person I met at that newspaper was a white, half-worn-out man who, whenever he entered the newsroom, left a huge tail of alcoholic yawns and light tobacco hairs in the form of a smell. He always screamed into the newsroom with his tongue on his chest and started barking: "This is ....
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To govern is to step on people, not dogs....
There is no lack of sirens in Maputo. Every second there is a siren blaring in the streets of the city. Who has never seen, in the middle of the city, the herd of sirens that is herded by long escorts when the country's superiors pass by? On every corner of the city there is a siren just like...
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A politician is a politician and a thief is a thief
Tell me who doesn't know that the politician is heard by a most excellent judge and the thief is interrogated by a chief of operations with cell keys in hand, the politician embezzles public money and the thief steals money in public. The neighborhood thieves sweep up laundry on the clotheslines and the politician is not....