Kimi Khan comme Katoucha, a démarré le mannequinat dans les années 80. Après beaucoup de campagnes publicitaires pour Afflelou, Peugeot, Air Afrique, Pepsi... et des défilés avec des couturiers de renom africain revient aujoud'hui dans une domaine qu'elle a toujours convoité.

 Bijoux de Mickael Kra

En 1983, on l'appelle pour remplacer Naéma, danseuse auprès de Julien Clerc pour la chanson Mélissa, métisse d'Ibiza. Kimi devient la Mélissa de Julien Clerc.

En 1985,  l'un des producteurs de Julien Clerc lui  propose de faire un single avec deux autres filles "Ladies" qui n'a pas rencontré son public.

Rien n'arrête Kimi, en 1989, elle commence à chanter en live et à se forger une identité musicale. Puis une traversée du désert qui a permis à Kimi de repartir aux sources, auprès de ceux qu'elle aime.

Elle revient ensuite pour démarrer en force. Elle reprend la chanson et se lance aussi dans l'événémentiel.

Kiané, anciennement Kimi Khan, est comme le roseau, elle plie mais ne casse pas.

Voir Amina Magazine

Ce artcile sera archivé sur la page BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL

Αγαπητέ Πρόεδρε και λίαν αγαπητέ εν Χριστώ αδελφέ,

Αγαπητά μέλη του Διοικητικού Συμβουλίου και προσφιλείς αδελφοί μου,

Με την επιστολή αυτή επικοινωνώ και πάλι μαζί σας διά να πληροφορήσω τα φιλόθεα μέλη της Αδελφότητος και εσάς προσωπικά περί των έργων τα οποία είναι απαραίτητα και τα οποία προβλέπουμε συν Θεώ να αρχίσουμε κατά το νέον έτος 2008.

Αν κατά τη διάρκεια του έτους βρεθεί κάποιος αδελφός ο οποίος θα επιθυμούσε να μας βοηθήσει σε κάποιο εξ αυτών, έχετε μας υπόψη σας.

1. Κατά την πρόσφατη επίσκεψη μου στην Ακτή Ελεφαντοστού, 27 έως και 30 Δεκεμβρίου 2007, διαπίστωσα ότι υπάρχει άμεση ανάγκη να ανεγερθεί ένας Ι. Ναός, ο πρώτος Ορθόδοξος Ι. Ναός στη χώρα αυτή. Οι προϋποθέσεις τώρα είναι ευοίωνες, δεδομένου ότι η χώρα μάς αναγνώρισε ως Εκκλησία και ο γενικός Σύμβουλος του Προέδρου μάς συνέστησε και συμβούλευσε να κτίσουμε ένα Ι. Ναό ώστε να μας δοθούν από το κράτος όλες οι διευκολύνσεις στο μετέπειτα ιεραποστολικό μας έργο (ατέλεια από φόρους οσάκις φέρνουμε κάποια εκκλησιαστικά είδη στη χώρα κ.λπ.). Ήδη ένας ντόπιος ενορίτης μας, καθηγητής Φυσικομαθηματικός στο Πανεπιστήμιο του Αμπιτζάν, μας προσέφερε ένα μικρό οικόπεδο σε αναπτυσσόμενη περιοχή της πόλεως με σκοπό να κτισθεί ο Ιερός Ναός.

Το εν λόγω οικόπεδο είναι εκτάσεως 600 τ.μ. Αναμένουμε τα έγγραφα της μεταβιβάσεως του χώρου στο όνομα του Ελληνορθόδοξου Πατριαρχείου μας και της Ιεράς Επισκοπής Γκάνας και αμέσως μετά θα αρχίσουμε το έργο αν, συν Θεώ, ευρεθεί ο δωρητής. Αν υπάρξει δι' αυτό το έργο έφεσης από κάποιον φιλόθεο αδελφό μας, έχετε μας υπόψιν σας. Μόνον το κόστος του θα είναι κατά τι υψηλότερο από αυτούς που συνήθως κτίζουμε στην Γκάνα, δεδομένου ότι οι τιμές στη χώρα της Ακτής Ελεφαντοστού είναι υψηλότερες. Πιστεύω ότι διά την εν λόγω ανέγερση θα χρειασθούν 60.000 Ευρώ.

2. Στη χώρα της Γκάνα και στα χωριά Μπράκουα και Εσσιέμ χρειαζόμαστε από ένα σχολείο δύο αιθουσών διδασκαλίας, μίας αίθουσας γραφείου των διδασκάλων, μιας αποθήκης καθώς επίσης βοηθητικών χώρων πρώτης ανάγκης. Αυτές είναι οι προδιαγραφές που μας δίδει το Υπουργείο Παιδείας της χώρας για την ανέγερση νέων σχολείων. Το κόστος του κάθε σχολείου είναι 45.000 Ευρώ. Στην τιμή αυτή περιλαμβάνεται η ανέγερση του κτιρίου με πόρτες, παράθυρα, ταβάνι, ο εξοπλισμός του με θρανία, γραφεία διδασκάλων, καθίσματα, πίνακες και μεγάλο δοχείο νερού διά τη χρήση στους βοηθητικούς χώρους. Αν και δι' αυτά τα έργα βρεθεί κάποιος δωρητής και εσείς κρίνετε ότι μπορείτε να μας βοηθήσετε, ευχαρίστως θα δεχθούμε την προσφορά σας. Γνωρίζω την αγάπη σας προς το επιτελούμενο ιεραποστολικό έργο στην Ιερά Επισκοπή Γκάνας αλλά γνωρίζω και τις ανάγκες των άλλων Ιεραποστόλων, γι' αυτό λέγω την επιθυμία μας και εσείς κρίνετε.

Περαίνων την επιστολή μου αυτήν σας ευχαριστώ θερμώς εκ μέρους και του λαού του Θεού διότι μας προσφέρατε κατά το παριππεύσαν έτος 2007 στο χώρο της ιεραποστολικής διακονίας μας, ελπίζοντας ότι κατά το τρέχον έτος 2008 η συμπαράσταση σας θα συνεχισθεί

Με αγάπη Χριστού Ο Επίσκοπος Γκάνας Δαμασκηνός

Μικρό Σχόλιο

Η Αδελφότητα μας ανταποκρινόμενη στο αίτημα του Θεοφ. Επισκόπου για την ανέγερση του πρώτου Ορθοδόξου Ι. Ναού στην Ακτή του Ελεφαντοστούν ενδιαφέρθηκε και στο κάλεσμα της ανταποκρίθηκαν δωρητές από την Αθήνα και ήδη στείλαμε το πρώτο ποσό των 10.000 Ευρώ ως προκαταβολή για την έναρξη του Ι. Ναού.
Ευχόμαστε όλα να πάνε καλά. Επίσης κάνουμε έκκληση στους δωρητές να αναλάβουν την ανέγερση των σχολείων στα χωριά Μπράκουα και Εσσιέμ.

Καταθέστε την αγάπη σας στους λογαριασμούς ( πάντοτε να αποστέλλετε την τραπεζική απόδειξη στον Ιεραποστολικό Σύλλογο, όπου να αναγράφετε τον προορισμό των χρημάτων σας, χώρα και έργο πχ, ναός ή σχολεία  )  :

1. ΕΜΠΟΡΙΚΗ ΤΡΑΠΕΖΑ : 80765011
2. ΑΓΡΟΤΙΚΗ ΤΡΑΠΕΖΑ : 215-04-0043 33-71
3. ΕΘΝΙΚΗ ΤΡΑΠΕΖΑ : 256/480006-09
4. EUROBANK : 206/0101157390

( http://www.greekorthodoxchurch.org/ierapostoli/first_text.html )

Σας παρακαλούμε να προσεύχεστε να βρεθούν Ορθόδοξοι ιεραπόστολοι για την Ακτή Ελεφαντοστούν, την Μπουρκίνα Φάσο, την Γκάμπια, τη Σενεγάλη, το Μαλί, την Γουινέα, την Γουινέα - Μπισάου, την Λιβερία, την Μαυριτανία και τον Νίγηρα, ώστε να βοηθήσουν τους τοπικούς Επισκόπους στο έργο τους. Περιμένουμε και από τα μεγάλα ΕλληνΟρθόδοξα μοναστήρια να αποστείλλουν ολιγομελείς συνοδείες μοναχών ή μοναζουσών στα ιεραποστολικά κέντρα της Αφρικής και της Ασίας. Οι λαοί περιμένουν να ακούσουν το μήνυμα της Αγάπης και της Ανάστασης και της Αιωνιότητας από τους Ορθοδόξους. Θέλουν να πάψουν να ζουν " εν χώρα και σκιά θανάτου". Ας μιλήσουμε στα έθνη για την άπειρη αγάπη του Τριαδικού Θεού και  να δείξουμε έμπρακτα ότι ο Χριστός αναστήθηκε ΚΑΙ ΧΑΡΙΖΕΙ ΣΕ ΟΛΟΥΣ ΤΗ ΠΝΕΥΜΑΤΙΚΗ ΒΑΣΙΛΕΙΑ ΤΩΝ ΟΥΡΑΝΩΝ.

@ Djé

En illustration, un vitrail de la basilique Notre Dame de la Paix de Yamoussoukro, représentant la procession des Rameaux, l’entrée du Christ à Jérusalem. On y voit Houphouët-Boigny parmi ceux qui acclament Jésus.

Un "détail" : Houphouët-Boigny est le seul "noir" de la scène… Le fait s’explique si on se rend à la (superbe) cathédrale St-Paul d’Abidjan. Y est représentée par un très grand vitrail l’arrivée de l’Évangile en Côte d’Ivoire : des "missionnés" — "noirs" — et des missionnaires — "blancs". Rien que de très normal, cela s’est passé ainsi. Puis une question lorsqu’on considère la représentation du Christ arrivé via la prédication de ces missionnaires : "blanc", comme les missionnaires. Normal, pourrait-on se dire : après tout le Christ arrivé en Côte d’Ivoire avec les missionnaires a transité par l’Europe. Il est semblable à ceux qui l’apportent.

Sauf que cela conforte un système imaginaire — imprégné du mythe de la "hiérarchie des races". Le Fils de Dieu, selon l’image duquel sont créés les hommes, serait donc "blanc" ? Qui réfléchit un peu se dit : mais on n’en sait rien ! Aucun texte évangélique ne parle de couleur. Certes, et normalement, on n’en a rien à faire. Le taux de mélanine de la peau n’a pas plus d’importance que la taille, la couleur des yeux ou la longueur de la barbe — et n’a rien à faire avec ce qui fait l’humanité !

Sauf que le discours qui traîne depuis quatre ou cinq siècles dit le contraire ! Et je précise que ce discours-là n’est pas du tout le discours chrétien ! Simplement, une façon de ne pas mettre en question ce qui au fond contredit un message à vocation libératrice... ! (Et après tout c’était bien un des aspects, traduit dans des chants religieux, galvanisant la résistance d’Abidjan contre les tirs de Licorne !)

Quittons maintenant Abidjan et sa cathédrale, et allons dans un village. Prenons un gbaka, qui, pour peu que le chauffeur soit chrétien, peut arborer une image d’un Christ… "blanc". Arrivé dans un village, entrons dans l’église catholique que l’on a de fortes chances d’y trouver : tiens un Christ et sa mère… représentés en "blancs" ! Si l’on va ensuite dans une maison d’un villageois catholique, il y a des chances que l’on trouve un poster d’une Marie ou d’un Jésus tout ce qu’il y a de plus "blancs", yeux bleus, etc.

Si l’on monte jusqu’à Yamoussoukro, on retrouve donc le même phénomène dans la basilique — Houphouët seul "noir".

Quand on sait que par ailleurs, on a imaginé que les "noirs" auraient été, comme descendants de Cham — un des fils de Noé dans la Bible —, maudits et voués à l’esclavage…

La "malédiction" de Cham ! Un propos redoutable, réputé "biblique", ayant servi de "justification" à l'esclavage des "noirs", et qui relève d’une exégèse tardive (après le début des déportations du XVe siècle — cf. Sala-Molins, Le Code noir ou le calvaire de Canaan, éd. PUF) d'un texte qui dit autre chose ! (Genèse 9, 22 sq. : "Cham, père de Canaan, vit la nudité de son père et avertit ses deux frères au-dehors. Mais Sem et Japhet prirent le manteau, le mirent tous deux sur leur épaule et, marchant à reculons, couvrirent la nudité de leur père; leurs visages étaient tournés en arrière et ils ne virent pas la nudité de leur père. Lorsque Noé se réveilla de son ivresse, il apprit ce qui lui avait fait son fils le plus jeune. Et il dit: Maudit soit Canaan ! Qu'il soit pour ses frères le dernier des esclaves ! Il dit aussi : Béni soit YHWH, le Dieu de Sem, et que Canaan soit son esclave ! Qu'Elohim agrandisse Japhet, qu'il habite dans les tentes de Sem, et que Canaan soit son esclave !")

Il y a bien des développements talmudiques qui, eux, sont antérieurs au XVe siècle. Mais ils correspondent aux extrapolations talmudiques classiques qui visent parfois ici, mais pas systématiquement, les "noirs". Laissons de même les spéculations sur ce que signifie "dévoiler la nudité", qui peut ne concerner que le dévoilement de l'ivresse de Noé.

On a aussi voulu voir des découpages précis en trois continents correspondant à des couleurs de peaux. Ces découpages précis sont absents de la Genèse (il n'y a qu'à voir les répartitions géographiques des descendants des trois frères que donne le texte).

La malédiction ne vise pas la descendance de Cham, mais son seul fils Canaan — ce qui dans la Bible hébraïque dit bien ce que cela veut dire : le peuple de l’Antiquité en conflit avec Israël pour la terre disputée.

Par ailleurs la négritude étymologique ultérieure produite du nom Cham (Cheikh Anta Diop) n'a aucune raison de désigner autre chose que la population de l'Égypte ancienne, effectivement "noire" (Cheikh Anta Diop) — tout comme le mot "copte" et le mot "aegyptos" qui désignent aussi la "noirceur" de la population. Cela dit les Égyptiens-Éthiopiens ne sont pas les seuls "noirs" de la région ("noirs" pas forcement tous chamitiques : Saba, dans la généalogie la Genèse, est descendant de Cham — Genèse 10, 7 —, et de Sem — Genèse 10, 28). Et inversement les autres fils de Noé ne sont pas nécessairement "blancs" ! (Le maître du Talmud Rabbi Eliézer soutient que Sem aussi était "noir".) Ainsi lorsque Moïse épouse une Éthiopienne (livre de l'Exode) et qu'on le lui reproche, le texte ne parle jamais de sa couleur de peau (qui est peut-être aussi celle de Moïse), mais vise la question religieuse. Le métissage et le "blanchissement" progressif, jusqu'aux invasions grecque et arabe, de l'Égypte, vaut peut-être aussi pour Israël — ce que pourrait confirmer le fait que les juifs éthiopiens, "noirs", ont un rite antérieur à l’époque de l'exil babylonien. Il n'est qu'à lire les textes de l'Antiquité, jusqu'aux textes latins (Ovide, Lucrèce, etc.) et médiévaux (le mythe du prêtre Jean, Éthiopien) pour voir que la couleur de la peau ne faisait alors pas racisme ni problème ! Ce qui confirme (si besoin était) la thèse la plus vraisemblable : le racisme est bien né postérieurement à la traite des "noirs" et pour la "justifier" !

Il est évident que le texte de la Genèse concerne Canaan (il suffit de le lire !). Faisant naturellement référence à la Palestine ancienne et à ses populations (sans doute de même "couleur" que les tribus d'Israël). Cela n'a aucun rapport avec la Palestine arabe actuelle (censée, elle, descendre de Sem). Et cela n'a non plus aucun rapport avec une "hiérarchie des races", via la couleur de la peau, dont le plein développement est consécutif aux déportations atlantiques, et dont les premiers linéaments remontent au Moyen Age arabe. Rien à voir avec l'Antiquité, même s'il y a un débat qui fait penser à cela dans littérature talmudique.

Il est une façon remarquable que nous avons, nous autres humains, d'aller chercher des références dans des textes comme la Bible (entre autres) pour justifier ce qui ne relève que du vice, ou, au "mieux", d'idéologies qui n'ont évidemment rien à voir avec cela (ne serait-ce que parce qu'elles sont bien ultérieures).

Si cela vaut bien sûr aussi pour d’autres textes, cela est bien plus redoutable quand il s’agit de textes du poids de la Bible ou des traditions religieuses séculaires toujours actuelles. Bref il y a là des bombes potentielles à désamorcer. Pensons, pour prendre un cas récent, à l'ex-Yougoslavie, où les appartenances religieuses ont fini par étayer ce qui relève au départ de blocs stratégiques (genre frictions atlanto-russes). La tradition orthodoxe a remplacé Marx, tandis que le Vatican était le premier à reconnaître la Slovénie… catholique (comme par hasard).

Ce n'est qu'une illustration pour remarquer, concernant Genèse 9, que faire dire (et l'époque classique l'a fait à l'envi) à un texte d’un tel poids mondial qu'il enseignerait une "hiérarchie des races" est potentiellement catastrophique.

(On pourrait dire la même chose des usages qui sont faits du Coran — concernant le voile par ex. : j’ai écrit quelques posts dénonçant la reconnaissance de facto, par des décisions de justice républicaine, de sa lecture intégriste ! Ou pire, l'excision: ce pourquoi j'ai écrit un post la déclarant "blasphématoire": tant que des délirants l'appuieront sur le Coran, les arguments rationnels n’auront pas grande efficacité…)

Quand le mythe de la "hiérarchie des races" que l’on trouve jusque chez les philosophes des Lumières, a été reconnu scientifiquement stupide, il est redoutable de risquer de le voir réintroduire par la porte d'un texte au poids de fait incontestable, et qui ne dit même pas cela !

Quelle était la couleur de Jésus — ou de Moïse ? On n’en sait rien ! Et ça n’a aucune importance ! En tout cas, Jésus avait peu de chances d’avoir la pâleur des représentations importées d’Europe, où il a pris la couleur des populations locales européennes, et d’où il a transité vers l’Afrique occidentale.

Style: RAP

Pays: Côte d'Ivoire

Titre: De Wassakara à Paris

[audio http://maxiboucan.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/de-wassakara-a-paris.mp3]

Après le succès de son premier album intitulé Nouvelles du Pays, l'enfant de Wassakara revient avec un nouveau titre qu'il baptise "de Wassakara à Paris". Cette chanson est un récit qui retrace son parcours jusqu'à Paris en partant de Wassakara bien sûr.

Cambodia – Kingdom of Cambodia – Oh lord. After years of somewhat sensible Buddhist rule, this little country was riddled with internal and external political shots and became a haven for murderous Rouge rogues. After a few more coups, this place is now a sanctuary for sheer corruption, molded after the Myanmar scheme. Shithole deluxe.

Cameroon – Republic of Cameroon – An African country on the west coast of Africa that could be getting it right, but misses greatly. Place has been relatively stable, but incredibly corrupt. *Sigh*. I guess I should be happy that they aren’t overtly killing people.

Canada – What’s not to love about a country where 1/3 of the population own beer fridges? Only complaint about the Molson swilling Canuck is from my experience from those leaf heads in Vancouver. Every other Canadian I have met has been polite, friendly, and fun to be around, so why does Vancouverites suck SOOO much??

Cape Verde – Republic of Cape Verde – Meh. Not much here. Small island community off the west coast of Africa. You hear about it when hurricanes form nearby, that’s about it.

Cayman Islands (UK overseas territory) – These islands are everything the Cape Verdes want to be. Rich, pleasant, and pricey. Want to move there? You can only work there for 7 years before getting the boot. Still, a nice little haven in the Caribbean, hopefully still there after Gustav.

Central African Republic – *sigh* Ok, another poor country in, well, central Africa. Landlocked CAR really has not much to offer outside of some wonderful forests in the northern and southern border areas. Grows a heck of a lot of cassava. Um, helped provide the ever-comical word Ubangi to the English language. Some promise in cotton farming, but that’s about it. AIDS rate is around 12% or so.

Chad – Republic of Chad – One of the poorest nations on Earth, this country just north of the CAR is rife with corruption, mismanagement, misinformation, ignorance, and evil. Every time something positive happens, the government quickly steps in and screws it up royally. Unstable until very recent, the government is a sneeze away from an absolute dictatorship. Censorship abounds. Full of refugees from Darfur. Classic case of an A+ shithole.

Chile – Republic of Chile – Weirdly shaped Chile has just that against it: shape. Everything else in this wonderful South American country is looking up. High GDP and a very stable government have allowed the people to enjoy economic and social freedoms. They are also believers in a free market. Nice. Some complain about distribution of wealth (the “why can’t everybody be rich” nonsense) there, but truly that will come to pass. Surviving an economic downturn in the late 90s can only mean a brighter future for this place. I will have to visit sometime!

China – People's Republic of China – A Marxist enclave of soulless commie robots. Nothing redeeming here in the billions of humanity outside of the hope that one day freedom will prevail in this powerhouse of a country. Prolific cheaters in the Olympics. Likes to kill Tibetans. The Sith of Szechuan. Without this country, Wal-mart would cease to exist. Evil in spades, my friends, in spades. I remember Tiananmen Square, do you?

Christmas Island – Territory of Christmas Island (Australian overseas territory) – &

Cocos (Keeling) Islands – Territory of Cocos (Keeling) Islands (Australian overseas territory) – I included these two groups together. Australian islands in the Indian Ocean. Not much to say about them. I guess they might be a hoot to visit?

Colombia – Republic of Colombia – I visited this country back in 1994. I was welcomed as long as I kept spending money, which is typical for any touristy area. I was in Cartagena, which is the Vegas of Colombia. I had a decent time, even though I was robbed. On a whole, as an American, I would never visit the place again. It’s not safe for us. Even Canadians are having issues. Too many kidnappings there. The government has absolutely no control in the spaces between cities, thus my shithole rating. Sorry, Colombia, but you know better.

Comoros – Union of the Comoros – Since independence from France, the Comoros experienced more than 20 coups or attempted coups. That should tell you about the state of affairs here, since they gained independence in the 70’s. Could be a wonderful place to visit, but isn’t. Just a Muslim ruled chain of islands near Mozambique.

Congo – Democratic Republic of the Congo – Um, we called this place Zaire in school. Full of political strife, full of war, full of poverty, full of mismanagement and full of corruption are what Congo has going for it. Yes, you guessed it: this central African country is full of FAIL. Tantalum, diamonds and copper are mined here, but it’s still a shithole.

Congo – Republic of the Congo – Hey, not only do they have the same names, they both suck! This Congo lies next door to the Zaire Congo and is also full of poverty, war, political upheaval, slavery…you name it. Some diamond exports are about it for anything of value. Shithole.

Cook Islands (Associated state of New Zealand) – Wonderful islands in the South Pacific who 1) govern themselves quite well 2) keeps their noses out of everyone else’s business. Wonderful! Tourism is the biggest industry there by far. Plan on visiting sometime, especially if we start cruising the world in retirement. If not, maybe a visit when we see New Zealand. Either way, it’s a wonderful, friendly paradise.

Costa Rica – Republic of Costa Rica – A stable Central American country, Costa Rica should be a jewel, yet it lacks so much. The high cost of a socialist country has drained the resources, although things are looking up as they promote free trade. My company’s call center is located there, thus making any quick resolution to IT problems impossible. Tourism is high, as it should be. This welfare state might do better if it would wean the people off the government’s teat and start giving incentives to the entrepreneur. Also, letting go of the nationalized companies would do wonders. Not immediately, mind you, but it’s better than this road of constant poverty you tread.

Côte d'Ivoire – Republic of Côte d'Ivoire Croatia – Highly corrupt and politically unstable, Ivory Coast (as it is known in the civilized world) is just another equatorial West African country who just enjoys killing it’s own people. Let’s face it, Africa has a butt-load of problems, and most of these asshole governments just make it worse. Shithole a’la Ivoire.

Republic of Croatia – As this former Yugoslav country crawls out from under the rubble of war, things are showing improvement. Industry looks to be taking off, but still has a ways to go. The country has been stable politically since it gained independence, so perhaps this place will be the shining star in an otherwise dreary region. Let’s hope so. 

Cuba – Republic of Cuba – A joke, right? Yeah, nothing like a banana-republic dictatorship infused with Marxism in an island full of promise. Yuhp, this place is not a shithole, but awful close. The people are too proud to let it become a full fledged shithole, but they are too weak minded to change things. I honestly believe that if we could get the Golden Arches in there, communism would fall like Skylab. Here’s to hoping that the next revolution comes soon. (Bloodless, of course).

Cyprus – Republic of Cyprus – Highly prosperous, this Med island is not what it seems. Damn place was invaded in the 70’s by Turkey, so a section of it is under Turkish control. There are even UN troops there guarding the line TO THIS DAY. Jeebus. Prosperity does not always equal happiness, evidently. Also, if you want a sex slave, you’ll probably go here as human trafficking is very high. Very popular place for Europeanss for some reason. Hmmmmm.

Czech Republic – When the iron curtain fell, these people PEACEFULLY separated themselves from the Slovaks in the former Czechoslovakia. In fact, I didn’t know they had separated until years afterward (I was in the military at the time and news never came quickly). It hasn’t been all roses, but these people wanted peace and got it. Nice. A perfect example of two ethnic groups settling matters peacefully. Damn. Folks need to write a book on how it’s done. Corruption is fairly predominant, like any former Soviet country would be, but the privatization of much of the economy should help keep that in check. Keep up the good work and much luck.

[audio http://maxiboucan.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/ahmed-ke.mp3]

ma partie préférée :

... Walaye devant la daï quand tu arrives tu es déjà K.O; Quand je la vois je veux foncer mais je ne peux pas KouKou...KouKou... KouKou..mon coeur bât !!

:D

Artiste: Bocassa 1er

Perso je n'avais jamais entendu parler de Bocassa 1er mais apparemment les hommes de la nuit eux le connaissent très bien. En tout cas, moi je kiffe grave ce son. Il y a longtemps que je n'avais pas autant bougé sur une chanson coupé décallé.

[audio http://maxiboucan.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/bocassa_1er-introduction.mp3]

Ma partie préférée:

Oh Serge Beno yé, l'arrangeur pointi ni ni ni ni ni ni ni ni è a yééé

AAh DJ Mix, tu vas tuer ;)

Tous les jours que Dieu fait je transpire seulement... regarde ma sueur est devenue mon déodorant..

Auteur: Garba50

Pays: Côte d'ivoire

Style: RAP

Titre: Transpiration

[audio http://maxiboucan.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/garba-50-transpiration.mp3]

Visitez leur espace sur MySpace

It reminded me (in a round about way) of an article I saw on the Boboraba (Djoula for 'big bottom') dance craze in Côte d'Ivoire , which as the name suggests is in praise of a large derriere and reportedly created business in the cosmetic industry by targeting gullible women. An elaborate account on the female posterior in popular culture, inspired by the same article is available on T'ings n' Times. But just so you know what I am referring to, here's the Boboraba music video by DJ Mix and DJ Eloh. For me, it's reminiscent of ndombolo from the Democratic Republic of Congo. As you can probably already guess, it's not safe for work (NSFW).

In the morning Oumar sent me his contributions to our final report shich took me the rest of the day to complete. While I was working I followed on CNN the path that hurricane Ike was slashing through Texas. It is odd that we sent people into these storms to report on them when they cannot really see anything because of the wind, rain; on top of that the electricity is out. They really did not have much to say and what they said was repeated every 15 minutes as were the pictures.

In between the wet and windy reports on the American disaster I watched a program on Democracy in Africa which included some gruesome scenes from the Congo and some interesting ideas about democracy African style (as in ‘winner does not take all’). Will it happen during my lifetime, I wondered? As we know from Ivory Coast and Kenya, the progress can easily be reversed.

Oumar and I had our last lunch together in a practically deserted restaurant. The only other creatures around us where the ubiquitous bats, screeching and pooping as if there was no tomorrow. I had my last ‘sauce feuilles’ with rice, so did Oumar. Not his last, I am sure, although the crabs will be missing in his hometown of Kankan, deep inland, near Bamako. He didn’t eat the crab pieces anyways, much like I did not eat the bush meat that comes from an animal resembling a large rat.

We reviewed the 10 days we had just completed and then we said goodbye. He called me hours later that he was still at the airport, his plane delayed; nothing unusual in this part of the world, but by the time I arrived at the airport there was no sign of him, so I assumed he was on his way to Conakry or already there.

On the way to the airport I wondered what it was like to have lived here during the shooting and looting that took place not that long ago. It is not like with us in Holland where only old people now remember the war. Here, everyone would remember. Where were they, what did they do and what/who did they lose?

There are many billboards around town and a lot along the road to the airport. They promise riches, beauty, happiness, wisdom and whatnot if only you buy a certain brand of tomato sauce, cell phone, refrigerator or toothpaste. Against the backdrop of the chaos, dirt, the messiness of ordinary life, I can see the attraction. They are part of the attempt to create a consuming middle class. It may actually work.

I had the good luck of sitting in the plane on the same row as a young father with his little girl. She screamed nonstop for the first half hour, bringing in various African moms sitting in our section of the plan with advice, food, toys, even chips; all to no avail. The father who already looked much harried as he entered the plane, was getting increasingly agitated. I wondered about the story. Where was the mother? Was he taking the child to her mother or away from her? With her permission or without? Later, the AF lady who brought the bassinet that clips onto the wall chided the father for not knowing the child’s weight (mothers know such things), standing tall above him, even taller because of her high heels; after that the father looked even more diminished. With a wink to my neighbor and me, she made us witness to her warnings about all the risks associated with placing one’s baby in the bassinet.

Once we had taken off I offered to place the, by then sleeping child, in the bassinet, a delicate undertaking, and discovered what might have been the cause of the screams, a very stinky diaper. I pretended not to notice as I imagined that this would only further agitate the dad. I hoped the smell would be contained in the bassinet (it did).

And now I am sitting in the exclusive AF lounge which offers me a shower and a rich buffet of foods and drinks. TVs are everywhere, though none of the programs shown (all French) mention hurricance Ike or Texas; as if that's already old news and not worth mentioning. Or is it because other news is considered more important (plane crash in Russia, bombs in Delhi and the Pope in Lourdes)?
 

While I was busy behind my computer Oumar talked on the phone with several people who had participated in our workshop. They called him or he called them. At night, over dinner, he gave me a summary of what he learned. It made me realize that when I travel alone and don’t have such insider’s intelligence, I miss out on a lot. It tends to be given more freely to people seen as (more) similar to oneself. I had never thought much of that because people do share much with me; and so it is easy to get caught by the illusion of being taken in confidence and considered ‘one of them.’ I may get close but I don’t think I ever will receive the kind of phone calls Oumar gets. I imagine that much of what I hear is carefully calibrated by politeness, people trying to figure out what it is that I like to hear. This is one of the reasons why I try to work with local counterparts (the other reason is that there has to be some form of transfer before I leave).

Earlier in the day Eustache joined us for lunch at the Old Combatants restaurant. It was a rather late lunch and since on Fridays the commercial center around us empties out early there were few patrons in the gigantic restaurant and the menu very limited. But one thing that can always be had, just about any place and any time, is a grilled fish (carp , sole or machoiron) covered by an onion/tomato mixture and some mystery spices that makes it hard to reproduce, plus of course the usual staple of atieke, rice or plantain (smooshed into a paste or fried, called aloko).

After lunch I went in search of a super market because of a craving for something sweet that needed urgent attention. Unlike in neighboring Ghana earlier this year, where we were served pineapple at any occasion, here I have not seen any, only bottled juice. This is odd because Cote d’Ivoire is, I believe, a major producer of pineapple; on our way to Aboisso we drove through endless pineapple fields. The country also produces cocoa and so that is what I bought, in its processed form, chocolate, plus some dates, but I would have much preferred fresh pineapple.

For dinner we revisited a restaurant in the Mermoz section of town, also quite empty and reviewed everything that happened since we started on September 4 and what needs to happen next. I ordered the same local dish that I had for my first dinner, kedjenou. I could not finish the enormous quantity of food put before me, still full from lunch. I have eaten more rice these 10 days that I eat in an entire year at home (I am a potato girl, really).

And with that I am signing out of Ivory Coast (incha’allah), expecting, if all goes well, to write my next entry from Charles de Gaulle, terminal E or F, tomorrow morning.

I was very aware of the date yesterday. The local news, radio and TV, all carried shots of our two presidential candidates, stiffly walking side by side at ground zero.

We made our round of visits to various stakeholders in the Global Fund to discuss what happened and sketch out next steps. We sorted out paperwork and contracts and began to lay the foundations for the next workshop that I will not attend, in November. I passed the baton, in the shape of a flipchart marker, to Oumar during our last facilitator meeting Tuesday night and he has been the team leader every since.

He leaves no opportunity unused to teach about management and leadership. He does this without even knowing it; teaching adults about changing their behavior is in his cells, he can’t help himself. We passed enough tidbits about management and leadership in our debriefing with the principal recipients of the funds that we left them hungry for more.

Last night at dinner, at a sidewalk restaurant, sitting on wobbly chairs around a wobbly table en plein air deep in Treichville, around a plate of grilled fish and atieke, he taught the president, the permanent secretary and our chief consultant about the Johari Window with great passion. My colleague Jana who taught Oumar about adult education would be proud. To hear such words as ‘moi chaché, moi aveugle, moi publique’ and ‘moi potential’ in such circumstances is quite amazing. Oumar, master trainer/story teller, kept them spellbound. It was wonderful watching him at work like that. I know the program is in good hands, he will do very well. His most important task is to transfer his skills to the local team so that he can look on, the way I do now, as his local colleagues take over. He has six more months to get to this result.

On our way to the restaurant the president took us on a tour of his childhood neighborhood. As he drove through it he kept pointing at this and that and added commentaries, the way I do when I show my colleagues in Holland where I grew up. Of course there was no comparison with that neighborhood (a small village really) and what it is now, as we are talking 1949: no paved road, few solid structures, no phones (c’était de la magie), few cars.

I could actually picture all this because my dad made a tour of Africa on behalf of the Dutch breweries in 1953 and left me a stack of postcards of many of the major African cities, including Dakar, Abidjan, Cairo, Nairobi, Johannesburg, Lusaka, Lagos, Antananarivo, etc. They are postcards made for foreigners like him, with a few cars showing (mostly old Peugeots) and many bare-breasted African women. The colonial buildings in the downtown shots are freshly painted. The shots of villages neat and orderly; not all that different from villages today except for the absence of the ubiquitous remains of the blue, pink, white or striped plastic bags. He also left me a diary that I have found hard to read at times because of the way he talks about Africans. He talks (writes) like a ‘colon.’ Even though not French or British, he was after all a man of his times. We have come a long way since then in terms of attitudes, but the environment has gotten the short end of the stick, bats, plastic bags, buildings and all.

Today is our last workday here and the report and the design for the next workshop are on the table. It turns out that not being able to change my ticket was a good thing; yesterday would have been too rushed. It was nice to sleep in and wake up with the bats.

The words spoken at the closing of the workshop came from the heart, as opposed to those spoken at the beginning when everything was still new and stiff. We were warmly invited to pay a visit to one of the people who had appeared rather cool and aloof at first; something shifted. It was also a reminder that first impressions can be entirely off the mark.

I handed out my usual leadership kits to remind them during their next meetings of what leadership and management means: a magnifying glass to scan and focus, a large button that says five time ‘Pourquoi,’ to remind them that fixing symptoms is a waste of resources; an eraser to erase all the mistakes of the past, and a mechanical pencil to ‘keep their points sharp.’

With that we packed our bags and headed back to Abidjan, a short ride, where we did our compte rendu with the acting chief of the MSH office. Now we are back at the hotel where we started, only one week ago. It is amazing how the psychological landscape around us has changed.

I tried to connect with the Boston office but something else has shifted also: we were not able to connect, after trying multiple ways: Skype, landline, cell phone. Nothing worked. This morning, I am also cut off from the internet. I had gotten used to a perfect and dependable connection to the outside world but am reminded again that I am in a place where such luxuries are not to be taken for granted.

I was put at the 9th floor of the hotel but requested a lower floor. It is not the height that bothers me but what to do in case of fire. May be it is a leftover fear from my childhood fire experience or having seen the movie Inferno. At any case, I have no illusion that one can survive a fire at the 9th floor. Now I am on the 4th and right above the swimming pool. I calculated that I could jump if needed.

I am on the other side of the building now, looking out over the inland part of Abidjan and the waters around it. At about 5 PM the sky started to turn dark with the frantic movement of a million fruit bats. I remembered this from Niger, sitting at the terrace of the Grand Hotel and watching the bats fly out over the Niger River. It is a breath taking nightly ritual that has gone on, probably undisturbed, for millennia. It does make one wonder why the city is not buried under tons of bat guano or whether this has already made its way into the lungs of people.

This morning at 6 AM th sky was still filled with bats but one by one they returned to their trees where they hang upside down, waiting to take to the sky again tonight. At 7 a few stragglers, adolescents probably, are still fluttering outside my window, and then, 30 minutes later there are none to be seen.

Since the field visits and yesterday’s introduction to all sorts of ideas that were new to them things are beginning to change. I was particularly happy to hear one person say ‘most of our failures (in terms of a society delivering quality health services) are because we are concentrating too much on the technical aspects of our work…’ I felt like giving him a high-five, but he is an earnest priest in a long grey collared robe so I contained my enthusiasm. I did ask him to write his words down so I could use them as a quote but what he delivered to me a few minutes later was an intellectualized version of these words, no longer direct from the heart but filtered through the intellect. Too bad, he spoke so eloquently. It is very hard to get them to bring the intensity of their intellectual activity down a few notches as it translates everything into abstractions. There were other small shifts: the trade unionist so much liked the challenge model we teach as part of our leadership program that he plans to introduce it in his training sessions. Yeah!

I am beginning to learn people’s names, workshop behaviors and quirks. Not enough to say something about everyone as I like to do at the end of a workshop, but enough for a few remarks that I am supposed to make as a psychologist. I will not disappoint them. The introverts, this includes the big boss, are harder to read for me and I won’t be able to say anything more than a few banalities as we bring this first workshop to a close.

We worked beautifully as a facilitation team yesterday, dancing I call it. But there was one glitch that created some heartache. We discontinued the contract with one of our team who simply had the wrong profile to be effective; rather than helping to do the work she was using up our precious energies as we tried to teach her the ropes. The distance to bridge was just too big. It was hard and painful but the only right thing to do, a quick cut now rather than a long drawn out struggle that would only generate frustration and exhaustion. She took the bad news in stride. There were many bases to cover to get to this result, requiring multiple conversations and emails to line up all the stars, including the fallen one.

A new configuration of the team is emerging. It includes Flore, our MSH admin assistant as an apprentice. We are swimming against the cultural currents that define who counts and who is worth listening to. A young woman is not considered an appropriate choice to teach about leadership and management, even when everything she does and has accomplished oozes these capacities.

Over lunch we talked about stress. When I mentioned the notion of setting boundaries and turning one’s cell phone off for starters, once home or during the weekend (most people walk around with at least two, some three) I was reminded of John Galbraith’s quote: faced with the choice of proving one’s opinion or changing it, everyone gets busy on the proof. My three lunch companions all got very busy explaining to me why this could not be done. I pushed back a little bit and was then told that ‘here things aren’t like that. You don’t understand.’ I used to get annoyed with those comments but now I let them pass and change the subject. It is no use to talk about choice when people feel so completely at the mercy of forces bigger than themselves (culture being the biggest one), even those who are at the very top. It is both sad and scary and, I believe, explains much about Africa’s predicament.