If the book hadn't dropped one of the chapters, in the form of a bomb, you would be with us now. My teacher, in the fourth grade, taught me after a banquet of beatings that you died in the office; he repeated this, while his hands, closed in fists, made the blood boil with pain. The story was something that had to stay in the head, it had to be received by the hands as something touchable. The story was to be introduced to us, in our hands, by the beating, just as priests shove rolls into the mouths of believers on Sundays.

You died, but first of all you united the three movements (how? I don't know) into one: FRELIMO. But when you glued these three movements together, in your architectural plan, you forgot to plaster them, and so there are already cracks. Your FRELIMO, Mondlane, no longer unites, it spreads. I heard that, in your time, they even shot each other; but now, Mondlane, the weapon that is used is more dangerous, because it kills us without taking us off the land: Poverty. We are arranged in very obese charts, by the hand of statistics, and called absolutely poor.

And we may have to stay more years to reset the country, as we go into debt, with guns activating death, in the North, and with politicians filling our jails.

I am writing to you, Mondlane, this February 2022. And perhaps we will have to stay more years to restore the country, because we are in debt, with weapons activating death, in the North, and with politicians filling our jails. You no longer reach out to foreigners to feed the people; it is in the people themselves that you take the food. Tell me something in all sincerity, "you were an academic and you should know how to answer me: which organ should speak louder in the academic? The stomach or the brain?".

Mondlane, the comrades chewed up your national architectural plan. They called the Chinese to teach us the martial arts of development, and in return we fill their wooden containers and get fed up with eating, on chopsticks, our shrimp in full boats. We have oil, coal and gas. Lots of natural resources, but we the poor are afraid that it will blow up in our faces just like it did with the book that put you to death.