Once I was married. We weren’t a perfect couple but he always made me shine. Wherever we went, he made me feel as if a light was shining on me.

Then he was gone and I found someone new. In many aspects he suits my taste better, but we are having problems. We have difficulty to accept our differences. We disagree a lot.

Today I had to go out. While waiting for a cab back home, I heard two friends talking. One of them clearly said: “I don’t know what to do. One thing is to love her, another thing is to be happy. We are constantly arguing. I love her but I cannot be happy and I don’t know what to do.” I was amazed. This man had just put in words my own problem.

I realized that my partner likes me but sometimes he cannot be happy. As soon as I saw him, I asked his forgiveness for all the moments I made him feel unhappy. He should have done the same. He just kept quiet. This is the unselfish part of me, the part that almost allows abuse and so on…

A little later I admitted that I feel the same. I like him, but most of the time I feel angry or unhappy. And when I asked myself why I don’t feel true happiness, I suddenly discovered that he doesn’t project a light that shine on me. Despite being born just one day before my husband, my actual partner is usually busy doing whatever pleases him and shinning a light over himself or over people he admires for having things that he doesn’t possess. The outcome of such relationship is an immense solitude, as he already experienced before.

I don’t know what he expects from me. It seems that after the initial interest the only thing he wants is to be left alone. He has no idea of what I expect from him. I just know that many times I am not getting what I need. We have half and half responsibility in this relationship. As long as we don’t realize it, we will have problems. I cannot make him happy when he is so far from making me happy. Probably I have to say that this “project” was his idea from the start. By nature I am someone who reflects the other.


Best of 2018


Ilha de Moçambique
I recently asked a Mozambican man how his children were. The answer was curious: “They’re fine now that it’s mango time.”

Mozambicans are an example that the world should look at. They make the most of what nature offers and ask for very little…

I expected a lot from 2018 and I finished the year with the feeling that I did so little. This feeling has dominated in recent years.

However, there are many reasons to celebrate, of which I choose Ilha de Moçambique, where I have been twice in the last year.

Certainly it was not “mango time” for this blog, but I have done my best to be “mango time” for this blogger. It has to be that way when we set priorities.

I have not decided if I will continue to write. This decision may not depend on me. “Mango time” is decisive.



Even though I am not a person full of convictions, I recognize as important to have some. A little more than three years ago, I changed my life because someone presented me two strong convictions:

1) that being together was a unique opportunity that life offered us, since the chance of finding someone else was tiny;

2) that we came from problematic relationships and wanted a new and different life, based on important aspects where other relationships had failed.

I believed in such convictions and made them mine. However, the person who made me believe does not even remember them or does not even know what a conviction is and how a conviction should guide our lives. Worse than people without convictions, is people with false or weak convictions. It is toxic to live with them. Instead of someone with convictions, one day I looked around and saw a person full of uncertainties, someone who is not the person I let be part of my life.

Best of February/March 2018


No place shows us the capacity for renewal like Africa. In the last few days I had a clear idea of ​​this when I witnessed:

1. The fantastic weather in March.

2. Young giraffes in the reserve that we cross to get to Ponta do Ouro.

3. The first leopard in Gorongosa in 14 years!!!

4. Three months of incredible freedom!!!

5. The works in the church that finally seem to move forward.

6. Knowing that I am happy and will be happy whatever happens in the near future.

7. Although the new neighbors evoke the Gaza Strip, the truth is that I am the exception in an area where embassies, diplomats and government officials predominate. Until when can I fight the tide? This is a very interesting challenge.

8. It was good to know that I could easily dance in public, even if I would have trouble in getting my legs up or proclaiming the size of a woman’s (or a man’s) organ.

This capacity for innovation makes us feel strong and capable of facing the toughest trials. Africa is a woman, although for bizarre reasons some insist on considering it neutral. Long live the extraordinary women of Africa!

Fairy Tales


There are people who remind us of fairy tales. Do not ask me the reason. Yesterday I remembered that there is a child I call “the tall boots girl”. The reason is that when I first saw her, about four or five years ago, she wore boots that looked bigger than she. Today she remains a strong girl, despite her very fragile appearance. She has grown a little and is already in school.

She knows me (her brothers too) by Rapunzel. I do not think it’s just because of my long hair. Maybe it’s also because I live in a tower, always waiting for prince charming.



I just had an uncle. I could describe him as a hard-working, friendly and peaceful man. The rest were all aunts. A week ago I found myself thinking about the contrast between my aunts and if that contrast explains what I am. Let’s see…

There were three aunts on my father’s side. My Aunt C was the oldest and the only one who married at the “right age.” The remaining two, aunt AL and aunt AD, married late to ensure that they would not be left alone in this world. If I had to describe them, I would say, for example, that they were good cooks, good housewives, very clean, serious, demanding, rude, wild, suspicious, greedy, unsociable, and suckers for a good intrigue.

There were two aunts on my mother’s side. The middle one died in her teens, leaving only aunt A, the eldest, and my mother. I tend to think of them as inclined to indolence. They showed little interest in domestic things and they were gourmand, careless, affable, credulous, passionate, submissive, cheerful, friendly and sociable.

Looking at the very different characteristics of these women, I can not help but admit that I may be a sort of “mixed salad”.

Three Years Ago


Three years ago I was celebrating “change and our chameleonic art of adaptation”. By mid February I was away, in Johannesburg. I almost forgot that trip because I was too sick to tell. Even though I am not sure of what happened to me, it seems I was a victim of one of those European winter bugs people insist in exporting to Africa.

Looking back, I think it has been the second time I felt so sick in my entire life. I was unable to shop, as I normally would, enjoy food or do the usual stuff people do when they take short vacations.

Maybe because I was so fragile, I also felt sad remembering how everything changes. It’s not only new people we learn to love and enjoy. Things change at an amazing pace. The places where I usually shop are now boring and repetitive. New places are emerging and I cannot wait for a next opportunity. No bugs.