Throat Irritated By Wine

A BEAUTY WITHOUT TRICKS!


Anna Vallicelli ViaTerrea
Published echogenic

green leaves, flowers, plant extracts, Graphics, bucolic, constant references to Nature ... The packaging of cosmetics we use every day are full of these images, but you have Ever wonder what's really inside of bottles, jars, cans that fill our bathrooms?
few years ago when my daughter was born and began to get gifts for the small number of smells including, shampoo, talcum powder, creams, I wondered if it was really necessary to fill his delicate skin of all these products that not only cover its delicious scent from small mammals, they seemed not only unnecessary but also potentially harmful. So I started trying to understand what were the ingredients that made up the cosmetics and what kind of consequences could have on health and the environment.
Chemicals including petroleum and its derivatives, harsh surfactants, heavy metals, formaldehyde, toluene, silicones, dyes, synthetic perfumes. All exquisitely wrapped in my perfumed beauty case! And 'maybe use cosmetic products containing solvents and chemicals that allow the harmful substances contained in products to penetrate the defenses of the skin and remain for several insidiarvisi time? And 'maybe cosmetics toxic substances into the environment that are undermining the lives of marine animals, water quality, soil fertility and the air we breathe?
These considerations have guided me then to a consumer awareness in cosmetics, selecting the products they buy regularly for hygiene and body care.
The key instrument for coping with numerous companies through the maze of alleged "natural", but that's only natural they have the graphics on the packaging, is the interpretation of ' INCI (Index of ingredients in cosmetics) indicated on the packaging of shampoo, soap , creams and tricks. That list, mandatory since 1997, contains the list of ingredients in cosmetics, written in descending order concentration. The names mentioned are certainly not easy to read and interpret, but fortunately there are many forums and web sites useful as Biodizionario ( www.biodizionario.it ) that can help tell if the cosmetics are really safe or not. Names such as methyl paraben, DMDM, PEG, Diazolidinyl urea, dimethicone may initially discourage consumers even more eager, but after the first research and reading on the internet and using the biodizionario will take confidence and fail to recognize the main chemical families to avoid for our health and for the protection of planet Earth.
Like any other economic sector is the route that draws the consumer market with their purchases, and so in recent years created the Bio Eco Certification in this area. Many certification bodies (eg AIAB-ICEA, Ecocert, Bio Eco Cosmetics, Demeter, etc..) In the EU have drawn up specifications containing the requirements to define a cosmetic Eco Bio groped going to fill a major gap still allows legislative to define "natural" a natural product that really has only a tiny percentage. But there is still a common European standard and so you may notice some differences between each certification. In any case rely on one of these certified products already gives us a much higher quality and safety compared to a commercially available cosmetics. The eco bio
cosmetic addition, unlike the traditional market wants to believe, is much more effective because it is more skin-compatible: our skin recognizes and absorbs more easily than a natural oil or a layer of silicone oil, with which has nothing to do and they do not know what to do. And then the real assets, those that are as advertised by the cosmetics industry and perhaps also present in trace amounts in the product are all natural, often stemming from the plant world. The problem is that the ingredients are placed, or fats, emulsifiers and preservatives used, and that's where the real difference that makes a product more or less skin-compatible. Finally, the price
: obviously the criteria for choosing a product, it is very important factor. Personally I felt cheated when I discovered that the most prestigious brands in the perfume with high prices found in them contain the same ingredients found in cosmetics by a few Euros in the supermarket. What is different and that drives up the cost of a lipstick or cream are in summary fashion, packaging (including the very high environmental impact), the famous actress in advertising ... all at the expense of the health and protection environment. The price of a cosmetic
eco bio is definitely superior to a traditional, but is closer to the actual cost of production of the product, in any event shall not exceed those proposed in the pharmacy and they are beginning to find some products in some supermarkets. I believe that rather than purchase many different products of poor quality is best to get going but just really needed to feed a healthy industry, products that have recyclable packaging and environmentally friendly, products that promote environmental education and civic education.
BioEco cosmetics also means helping local producers to sell genuine products and survive the advance of the big companies that incorporate everything they find. It also means helping poor people have the wonderful products and help them support themselves by buying fair trade raw materials. Making them a better life and ourselves.
We have the power to choose the best products for us. Let's do it!

Ap Bio Osmosis And Diffusion Lab Report Part C

The Sound of Nature

Claudio Magris • 13-Mar-11
The Sound of nature and the universal consciousness (loss) for the danger

In these hours we sometimes have the impression to attend at the end of the world live, the chasms, water and fire in rage in Japan are and are destroying so many lives and their places come to us in the house. Suddenly, before us as to the nature-dominated, exploited affected - it feels like the Lilliputians in front of Gulliver; waves crumble large buildings such as toys, cars and entire trains disappear like grass, the sky gets fired.

But is this so-called nature, often men-now contrast with the arrogance of the ruler, now with the distressed spoiler guilty of humility - as if they were not also part of nature, as if they were not also nature, like animals, plants or wave? Natural disasters often lead to thoughtful and perhaps unconsciously smug jeremiads punished the arrogance of the man who seeks to dominate nature, the technique that devastates lives. Every disaster is good to criticize every confidence in the technique and progress. The apocalypse-imagined, in the tradition, now time to focus on water now mixed up in the destruction caused by the earthquake - inspires, who looks like us but live far away and safe, or at least thinking about being safe, a shiver of fright. As so often with fear, this is an ambiguous mix attraction and pierced a warning on the weakness of man and his lack of humility towards nature. All this intensifies before disasters most directly due to human responsibility, unlike the character much more 'natural' earthquake and the tsunami that rage in Japan and can not seem to be put into account human all'insensatezza or dishonesty, as is the case for example of the effects triggered by deforestation or from the infamous building that, in many cases - this does not seem to be the case of Japan now hit - does not care, incompetence or greed, cheating, anti-seismic measures. The pride of the man who subdues with its technical nature against this pride ol'invettiva start a blunder: the opposition between man and nature and the opposition, just as fallacious, natural and artificial.

As one great hymn to nature written by Goethe- or transcribed from one of his followers - all is nature, even what seems to us to deny it and instead its staging. There is the myth of a pure and uncorrupted nature, as virgin human intervention that corrupts it. But even the most sincere and healthy wine exists in nature without the action of those who cultivate the vines and harvest grapes. Even the birds' nests is nothing without the work of those who build them. Those who, like Goethe, was the deep sense of belonging of the human species, like other species, nature, knows that the human impulse to build a tent or a house is no less natural than pushing to the beavers build their dams who oppose the impetus, as natural, water. The man is devastating "nature" but is often taken another sin, self-destructive than destructive nature is not threatening, but himself, his own species. The toadstools are no less natural than edible; the frozen wastes of Pluto are no less natural flowering of the Tuscan hills, the gases emerging from the exhaust pipes of cars are no less natural scent of flowers, because they are composed of elements chemicals that are part of the nature of Creation. More simply, poisonous mushrooms, frozen planets and toxic gases are lethal for our species, of which the "nature" probably does not matter that most of the extinct dinosaurs, but that counts for us instead. All, however, belongs to the nature of things, De Rerum Natura.

The technique known not to be so demonized as a sin against nature, is its excess, its abuse is often foolish and stupid that should be reported, not greasy or apocalyptic tones of condemnation of man's misery, but with the clarity of reason, that does not have to bow down to nature - and which is part of that evolution - but be aware of their limits, pursue progress without illusions with hubris that it is unlimited, but competing with all the problems and failures that it also creates and try to understand, from time to time, when to be continued and when it is necessary to stop or even make a few steps back, given that this is possible. This is a warning of possible danger that we lack, even seeing the pictures of the tragedy Japanese remain calm, never foolishly believe that something similar could happen to us, we can make any glaring errors. Similarly, when someone dies of cancer or heart attack, deep down we are convinced that this will ever happen there. This protective unconscious of the danger marks not only individuals but also the civilizations, cultures, societies, certain to be immortal. Pure civilizations have their own endorphins, drugs that protect them from the anxiety of knowing Duty, someday, to die.

I do not know - and I have no competence to be able to know or understand, if the danger posed by the breakdown of the cooling system of the Japanese nuclear reactor and radioactive explosion is proved the mistake of building nuclear power plants in general or whether it indicates as I believe - but without any certainty, given my ignorance on-the danger is always present in every human activity. In his article, so vigorous and convincing, which appeared in yesterday's Corriere, Massimo Gaggi has highlighted the rational and strong will shown by Japan in the pursuit of growth, without "challenges to the fate" in the knowledge effective risk analysis and in preparation for them. In general, the attitude and behavior of the Japanese on this occasion give a great test of courage, firmness and calm with which man is able at times to cope with the disaster. This dignity and moral strength that they have nothing to do with the Promethean arrogance of those who think, with cheerful irresponsibility, of being able to defy with impunity the necessary balance to his case, believing that this form of nature we call the technique might decouple from the ancient mother that that generated by all and understands it as a branch that claimed to deny the tree and where he grew up and go away on their own. If many reactions against technology - even some shades of pathos-antinuclear appear irrational, even more joyous and self-harm is the irrational complacency with which, in the name of progress so that ceases to be such arrogance and a scientist believes that science is God, destroy forests, wasting energy, resources are depleted without thinking about how the Earth can feed a number of hungry and increasingly unsustainable as we can live in a land increasingly different from that to which our species is used.

There is, in humans, a presumption of eternity that makes irresponsible spendthrift of life and goes to meet the presumption a possible transformation of itself. Serious scholars speak of a near future with cyborgs, of men like hybrids of human bodies and technology integrations, it is theoretically possible for a world of women only able to reproduce without human intervention, genetic engineering promises-or threat-beings humans radically different from us, as to be difficult to define "us". Perhaps it is implementing a radical transformation of our species, destined to change our way of being and feeling, in a world where only women were born by women, for example, would be hard to see Hector, who plays with his son Astyanax hoping to become more than he or the passion of Paolo and Francesca, things without which we would not be what we are. Of course, species have always transformed and continue to do so. But, unlike the process that led from the unicellular organism (or fragments of the Big Bang) to Marilyn Monroe, the transformation of our species would occur very quickly rather than billions of years, perhaps in time for those who would live them unsustainable.

This possible transformation - irrationally courted or feared - hurts us more than our own individual death, because it comforts us to believe that after us there will be children like our children, women and men as lovable people we loved. Strength, calmness, dignity with which those now facing the Japanese show that the overwhelming disaster the classic man, as we know it for millennia, has not yet passed, as Nietzsche proclaimed, hoping and fearing all-but is still worth his place.

Corriere della Sera March 13, 2011

Polaroid For Beginners

Kazungu GRANDFATHER AND THE WOMEN'S DAY


See a white Kakoneni, at eight o'clock in the morning, it is rare but always gives a sense unexpected, again, imagine the surprise of the things that materialize in an unexpected moment. This is especially the children that you have happily on the edge of the track as for the passage of cyclists on the Tourmalet and are one with the orange powder, the shadow of the acacias and the smile of the sun. Grandfather
Kazungu instead knows that a Mzungu at that hour on a dirt road, fifty miles inland from Malindi on the way to the Tsavo National Park, where there is near a bus safari, may belong to two categories:

1. Tourists linger to urinate and forgotten by the driver of the minibus safari and not reported by passengers (in this case after more than an hour and a half will return to retrieve it) or
2. Tourists who ventured into the bush with his car and broke it left a few miles back, with his wife fat and sweaty to curb the streams with his shirt and the two friends arrived for the first time in Africa to dream on rear seats, the garden of their house in Pietra Ligure.
If not part of one of two types, then it can only be evaporated, which took advantage of a pass by adventurers in Land Cruiser or has just fallen from matatu fast-Kakoneni Malindi.
"Jambo, Mzee"
"Good morning, pale nephew" From
white shirt and face, it seems Land Cruise, rising to resume tomorrow.
It 's time to have tea with cinnamon, an African game of checkers and a sportsman from smoke slowly relaxed from the Olympics.
"What we have to visit this man?"
"Today is March 8, I came because it is International Women's Day and I would also like to Kakoneni was celebrated this anniversary"
"The party ...?"
"of ... mwanamke woman ...! Of your wives, daughters, nieces, of malaya "
"We missed this too ... my boy, Kenya is the country with the most holy days of the African continent and, I think even the world. Failing to adopt an official religion, we celebrate all the Christian feasts, those of Rome and those celebrated in Anglo-Saxon countries, such as Pentecost, the Pope not to do wrong but even the British Protestants who first we talked about faith. Then we respect the Islamic parties, God forbid ... the birth of the prophet Mohamed, the revelation and days of prayer in which many will head to Mecca. Of course we also feast on the day of commencement and the end of Ramadan. Then we have the historic anniversaries of our Nation: Independence Day, "Uhuru Day" to the constitution, "Jamhuri Day", the birthday of Jomo Kenyatta, the father of the country and also that of his successor, a little 'father, but always a little less' monarch, Arap Moi. Clearly, we align the world including on May 1, despite not having a great tradition of working ... you do not work the first year and last year was declared a national holiday the day of Saint Sylvester. Lately there are those who whisper that we are opening up to Buddhism and solemn days of the Celtic calendar ... and how to bypass Italian holidays in Malindi? If it were not for your fellow citizens on April 25 were still in Somalia, more that beaches, safaris and tropical cocktails! "The wisdom and irony
Kazungu Grandpa always left him speechless evaporated, moreover knew that only someone like him would face the interior malindino and stayed one night in a mud hut among snakes and scorpions. It was a unique example: more than forty seasons alongside whites of every race and culture, learning to observe thousands of transition, had submitted as a computer billions of information and stimuli, the time, slow the flow of things and clarity of thought had developed the whole, sublime with the philosophy of African life.
"But this is not a festival calendar, even in Italy ... is a way to celebrate the good fortune of having the female gender on our side "Kazungu
Grandpa looked askance at the evaporated and vigorously shook his shorts found on the sides.
"A celebration to thank Heaven for the reproduction of the species, you say?"
The shock evaporated in the manner of a banana tree, the thick hair on his head.
"We're going to discuss it at the Safari Bar"
Kamongo Lawrence was loading his pick-up in heaven. On
body there were already seven people, a small generator to take to repair, a toolbox, two empty boxes of Tusker, the spare wheel of a truck, a bicycle and a bottle gas. In place of the driver side, recessed and smiling, the electrician Makotsi.
"You go away," she said, ordering a coffee kenya.
"When you come back? It is to organize the Women's Day at sunset "
" I'll be back around ... THE PARTY THAT '? "
" of women ... is March 8! Around the world celebrates the woman "
" We celebrate every day woman, you do not need a special day "
" Even Jesus is celebrated every Sunday, but there are special occasions, the most important week, "said Kazungu grandfather, who had decided to take the side of his Italian, imagining that he would be in the minority soon.
feel directly involved, the priest stretched his voice.
"We want to equate Jesus and ..."
"The Lady from which it was born? Why not! "I anticipated it evaporated.
"The Lady was a special woman, committed no sin ... this is why we worship," snapped the priest "not to forget that Eva is having committed the original sin."
"The shame that our women have done was to get married ..." sneered Kazungu.
"Had they been able to decide ..." jumped on the operator of the bar, Kibonge.
"What sin have committed my first wife, sold by her father for seven goats and a plantation of tomatoes?" Said Makotsi echoing from inside the pickup.
"What not to miss Matsangoni" drink a young man behind the voice generator.
"And I, I break your back for ten years for carrying water from the well and take care of my four little children? - Asked in a shrill tone of the guests of the box, moving the bike so that you could see in his face - I am a sinner, maybe? "
The priest was repulsed in the most respectful silence, Kamongo continued.
"And what This is International Women's Day? "
" Should it happen that one day she can do what during the rest of the year ... it is forbidden to the March 8 decides she is the star! "s'infervorò it evaporated.
"That is now our women should get drunk, get to cook the goat, forcing the man to have sex ..."
"For example, tonight the Safari Bar is available to them and do not see the game, but the program that decides them ... "
" But there's West Ham-Portsmouth ... "he tried Kibonge.
"Do you realize what women have always for us? - Then said Kazungu - work hard, your children, keep the villages clean, wash clothes, procure firewood and pounding corn, harvesting the spinach, they go to fetch water ... "
" But it's normal, we We are working in or around the city and earn money to maintain them ... "said Kamongo.
"And you turn the situation around? Tell your wife remaining service to the village to do what she does? "
" It is not possible - Makotsi rang, I learn the car door - the man can not breastfeed their children should be raised by her mother, so she must stay in the village "
" Here find an excuse ... "murmured the evaporated.
"On this I can not blame them ..." grandfather Kazungu confirmed.
"I understand! - Kibebe said, the village idiot sbroffante waking from sleep in the game - today we celebrate the woman's boobs! "
That evening, for March 8, the village men cooked potatoes and Kid charcoal for their wives , sang folk songs to which women's voices joined in, dragging in tribal dances. Some of them also felt a drop of Mnazi, getting drunk once. Almost all made love with their husbands and who had two or three wives was a busy evening. Grandfather
Kazungu estimated that the first of December, the population of Kakoneni would increase by 90 percent. The evaporated
did not know whether to be happy for the women of Kakoneni or be convinced that he had an idea of \u200b\u200bthe cabbage.
But above all, at nine o'clock the party was already over and, much to the joy of Kibonge, men Tusker Malt uncorked at the Safari Bar, looking at West Ham and Portsmouth each time by a special toast.
"Long Live the March 8! Long live our women! "

Cervix Low And Hard Can I Still Be Pregnant

Malindi NOT ONLY VIP concert of solidarity 'AN EVENING WITH Paola Turci


The duet between Paola Turci and Eric Wainaina, who sang with the Bob Marley classic" Redemption Song ", was spectacular and sent raptures in the crowd that attended the festival in Malindi.
The stage set up at the old hotel into disuse, Sinbad Hotel, near the casino, which is teeming with tourists carefree and happy on Saturday night took turns in the best artists Kenyan Eric Wainaina is one of them but also Nyota Ndogo, AMREF Juakali drummers Mr. Bado and mAdc, and Italy's Paola Turci. The performance of music, performed by non-governmental CISP, International Committee for the Development of Peoples, and above all its vibrant here in Malindi, Tania Miorin not intended mainly to entertain the audience, but rather to bring to ' attention to the right to education of African children in general and those of Malindi, where the CISP has worked for years in particular.
tests in the morning have seriously damaged the two musicians came from Italy with Paola Turci, one of which, bassist Roman Pierpaolo Ranieri, was browned by the sun good for tropical hard hit. It has not lost his nerve and although painful in the evening was fantastic. The second, Massimo Cusato, Calabria, a talented drummer, he is "saved" through thick hair.
"Music - Paola Turci said in an interview with Corriere - can be the glue that makes the ideas off the ground. The African children need help, bring people in square to listen and dance with us, you need to raise public awareness to a participation needs. The kids, but also their parents, they must understand that the school and education are important to ensure a better future. Often, however, are poor and can not afford school fees or need to send their children to work. So we need to find donors. Even through music and concerts like this. "
Paola last week was in place along with women from all over Italy. "You can not just criticize action is also necessary. So I gave my contribution to the cause. I do not like the stereotype of a woman who wants to go. " From the stage
unleashed a presenter, Freddie of Curatolo, a former journalist of the Province of Como hours transplanted in Malindi, shouting with great confidence and emphasis: "Education is your right. Education is your future ", that education is your right, education is your future. He hoped in his heart that the multitude of kids and parents who attended the concert would understand the importance of the message. "I have to convince them," murmured the morning during the tests.
The event had several sponsors, among others, the regional airline Air Kenya, whose manager is the Italian pilot and co-owner Dino Bisleti, hotels of the group key, where guests are seated, the restaurant on the beach Pope Remo Watamu, a small seaside resort south of Malindi, (the beautiful location in one of the few points on the Kenyan coast delicious) and the Italian Cooperation, "For some time now - said Marina Rini who has represented a quest for Malindi ' event - we are committed to improving the health of the population in the district of Malindi and Tana River Delta in the city is part ".
"Now we are making a major initiative for a value of 240 million shillings (2 million and one hundred and sixty thousand euro), which concerns not only the health sector but also that of education with the construction or renovation of 11 primary schools, and fourteen facilities outpatients in a plane which serves 317 000 people. "
Marina Rini brought a message of Martin Mello, the head of the Italian Cooperation in Kenya: "Our involvement today - Melli wrote - can make a difference to the future of this country depends on the citizens and workers of tomorrow" .
The festival organized by the CISP was started in the morning with recreational and educational activities for children and young people: performance of acrobats and folk dancers, poetry readings, puppet shows and short plays.
"In the district of Malindi the enrollment rate in primary education is compulsory by law - explains Sandro De Luca, area manager for Africa of the CISP, and Marcella Ferraccioli, representative for Kenya in the same organization - is 84 percent for males and 67 for females. Against a national average of 95 and 90 respectively. For the secondary these percentages fall terribly: 14, 7 for males and 1.7 percent for females. Despite the development of the tourism industry, these data help to make the district of Malindi one of the poorest in all of Kenya. According to government figures, 66 percent of the country lives below the poverty line. "" The festival therefore serves to this - Tania Miorin concludes, 'heart' and 'soul' of the event -. If the tourism industry devolvesse one euro for every Italian who is here on vacation we could collect some 'of funds to be donated to aid education, which could ensure that children and young people in Malindi a better future "
Massimo Alberizzi" Il Corriere della Sera

How To Connect Hdd To Tv

THAT' life (not yours)


"Life is the art of meeting", he said that the Brazilian poet, who was walking on a beach more crowded than those in Africa. I look back on the trail left by my pessimism west, parallel to that of the last jumbo that led me to the land of jambo, breathing calmly and the paradox that I would like a showman (much) and culture (Too little) but I do live where it's hard to do. So the field of a thousand other wonderful things, of nice meetings and that bit 'of Europe ed'Africa good passing from here. The Malindi
Music Festival for Children, a creature of another beautiful person who lives here, Tania Miorin, "pasionaria rational" who works for an "en-gi-o", this year for its second edition, I did enjoy. Meanwhile, the link between music and solidarity more than ever is that of children, which are now also "my" kids. Their faces painted during the games of the morning were the same as those of small players who I raise, their big eyes and shelled them attend every day and my daughter Zena Agata you come across with their same smile and enthusiasm. Then there is the strong link with the Malindi District Cultural Association, and Vice President Joseph Mwarandu Baya, who gave me a few weeks ago the honor of Giriama, baptizing Mbogo Kimera. They are the first to take to the stage of the Festival, I'm lucky to be able to present. Underneath that colorful stage, thousands of people and even many European residents. Giriama traditional songs and modern with a hint of bass, guitar and drums that you could hardly see Kakoneni, Marikebuni Kayafungo or where the electricity the night and make the fireflies light artificial breathing is something that is bad, because it comes from kerosene lamps. The solemn voice of Mzee Mboka, reminiscent of a Louisiana bluesman early twentieth century, the hoarse Mzee Tension and sermons blaring of Baya, in their colorful kanga and kikoi, leans into the wind as if they were of the same material. So what if young people understand and appreciate more the rapper Mr.Bado, which incites the crowd, or sgallettata Nyota Ndogo (Stella) that appears even obscene, in a festival devoted to children. Notice the false moralism, the kids here live on their skin every day worse things, to limit teaching that sex is a moment of joy and pleasure, not violence or exchange of favors, it is already something realistically. Here comes the highlight of the show that I am presenting in broken English. The percussionists street slums of Nairobi have brought with them new leverage, small hopping musicians who have more than fourteen years. The ringleader speaks the language of the rods that vibrate on every subject of recycling: cans, water pipes, valves, tanks. And it could not speak otherwise, having a joke of teeth in the mouth. My language struggled against his language toothless. Sounds, colors and joy of who you should shake with as much force and noise as possible off the misery. Arriva Eric Wainaina, the Kenyan singer-songwriter has always been appreciated for its social commitment, his intelligent lyrics trying to stir the consciences of those who still in his head absurd tribal issues. "The ethnic crap should not enter into our social life - he says from the stage - where the politician is elected to serve the citizen, we must judge his actions, not vote for him because he belongs to our own ethnic group. If you need a plumber because the tap loses home, you rely more good plumber and best price or will it only affects your own tribe? ". Wise words and sacrosanct. A realistic speech even if it were true that politicians are the people's interests. But Eric writes, "Love and protest", has two wonderful children that does not cut eyes off him even while doing the sound check and a wife, Sheba, devotedly following her performance. It 'an artist, a man of the new Kenya. It tells us that there is hope for this country. And there it sings. "Sawa Sawa".
Di Paola Turci, I wish I could talk to a music critic, but I can not. And 'friend already, and knew immediately Africa, Kenya, Malindi. Helped by her husband Andrew, who has a nice cheerful nostalgia for Africa under the bark Milanese doc "tired of Milan," she immersed herself in local culture, thrilling visibly when the mAdc sang his "children" in Swahili mixed the dialect Local. Together on stage, sang "Watoto", and was one of the deepest and most significant festival. Emotionally touching its peak with "Redemption Song", a duet with Wainaina, but Paul is driving with his songs. The Kenyans clap their hands, seem to understand. So what if the microphones jump one by one as awestruck by the unusual timing of notes ever heard in the Indian ocean, if you end up in twenty on stage playing percussion colored Juakali the past the only gelatone was like a wand magic to come up with verses of songs, slogans for children and education, harmonies and tongue-twisting rap, in an endless jam session. Education is your right, education is your future.
The secret of life, for me, is contained in the evenings such as this. E 'share a beautiful experience, and awards, and do good, you feel this good bones and blood. How many more people with the same feeling you, you'll have to close.

Stent For Kidney Stones And Pregnant

Rossoblu AN UNFORGETTABLE WEEK IN AFRICA (Edward and Beccioni)


If you like shaved, maybe Africa is not for her beauty te.La is lush but buried under mountains of crap.
The crap is everywhere, and almost all imported.
Arrivals in Africa and you understand immediately that this is hell. But the discovery more terrible is the next: African hell this is infinitely more livable and attractive aseptic hell of your own home. If we then add a Freddie Beccioni almost teetotal regime in pre-derby and the children of the Soccer School in Malindi, the confusion is total.
However, in light of the equator, the red and blue become even more resplendent, fascinate you, you take your breath away.
Ok, maybe Malindi is not Africa, or Africa in a somewhat 'special. Like when you dig a hole you pour in the polenta and the spices, porcini mushrooms. Africa, the polenta, it's all around, but if you fall right in the middle of the spices, you can also get the impression of enjoying a holiday on the Italian cinepanettoni.
However, the Gryphon can not find some valuable in the folds of the tricolor of Malindi decorated with bows. The Griffon is not, of course, branded with the dudes on the coast, immersed in their villas and their ports round the shadow of cocktails in glasses from the stems immense. No. Cut to a dirt road that branches off from the center. From the center of Malindi African, the real one. At the edge of the road, bouncing, see poor stands with any merchandise, precarious shacks inhabited by hungry lives of grace, precarious mountain of waste (we do not know for what mysterious reason the poverty generated so much waste). Down the street, shortly after a landfill, a huge baobab introduces you to the camp of the children of Genoa.
They are there, eager to wear the glorious coat. Their smiles and their curious eyes are worth a goal of Palacio, in the derby, in 94mo. They play against a team in an orphanage. The opponents wear beautiful sponsored links, but reveal unfamiliarity with the tactics. We would like to Gasperini. Perhaps you could also do Pato. The children of the Genoa (many of them barefoot) apply the patterns in memory of their coach and they seem to Barcelona. At the end you do not count the goals: 8 or 9 to zero. All I know is that we start doing all the cheering for the opponents. Because a true Genoa player, even when he has to win, always ends up with losers share the defeat.
mainly because of Mystic and Stanley, two boys are very good and very in need of sponsors. Have serious family problems, but they play happily communicating joy. Mystic is a midfielder from the feet and brain superfine. I do not know whether it is better to Milanetto, but it is very beautiful to behold. Stanley played on the wing, with the right energy and well-balanced placement. I like it a lot. Then there's Joseph, the sweet Cirino. E 'injured, but comes with a t-shirt Griffin and cheering from the sidelines. And certainly not gliel'hanno suggested shoes or Jane Doe.
The next week I see our team against a mangy: bright kids, and some experts' louts, without a uniform. There is the one who plays shirtless, one with his shirt torn, that in Bermuda. But they are strong. Went ahead on a fast break (offside not seen) and then defend it as if we train them Novellino. Grifoncino I can draw at half time. Even if the opponents clog the spaces did not relinquish their elegant triangular plots and in the second half, marking the 2-1 and then 3-1, with great action.
But the result is a relative factor. You see them take the field, with red and blue glow, and you understand that, whatever happens, have already won. They and all those who love him.
Genoa true, what about? It seems absurd that the African entity in a position to quibble, born artistic Beccioni call. After the litany of Bari, I have to share the Derby with that crazy. After searching for a tv in the direct relatives of Mozambique Eduardo, crafted a daring crock skype, dreamed of a bouncy song, there remains only the voice of Brenzini. The Bill is imbufalito, except for a bottle of "Libertas," a South African cabernet sauvignon that has tracked mud in the basement of a sorcerer Bantu. The avalanche of goals wrong predisposes us to be the nemesis. Tusker beers also leave. We look depressed, so confident that the worst, Rafinha's goal, jumped up cheering evil, conditioned by the fear that, ultimately, victory escapes us because we are in Africa. We win, however, but it's all unreal. You see a little 'you: a man who, in my eyes does not shine for intelligence, told me, from inside a box, while I'm at the equator, the Genoa is winning the Derby. Clear that I do not trust. It all seems a contrived affair: Africa, wine, warm beer, the girl from the escort of the beak that is waiting for me at the hotel. I go to her, I put the scarf rossoblù and run through the streets to show off. Beccioni honks for a city that does not know why, for a nation and a continent that does not know why and perhaps wonder what ever will be addressed in the country with the flag rossoblù. Let's do some 'casino, but the television talking about something else. In bars, in the streets, no sign. I wake up at night, with the equatorial sky looming, the girl who hugs me tenderly, scarf rossoblù again at the foot of the bed and say to myself: "It can not be true. It's a trick of that devil of a beak. Do not fall for it, boy. " Just wake up the phone and, stupidly, anxiously, I implore: "They said on TV? It says in the papers? Tell me that is true. " He tells me that there is evidence and so I go to the beach, facing the ocean, alone. And only then, like a fool, I let myself go to true joy and overwhelming, with 14-hour delay.
The following Sunday is that of Genoa-Roma, but also that it is preparing my last night in Africa. The beak picks me up at the hotel to suffer together in front of some other household appliance end. It's a bit 'late, after the revelry of a mega concert the previous night and an afternoon at sea. As soon as I opened the car door that says to me, with a heavy heart: "We just caught goals. We are raising the Rometta. He invites me to his house, fumbling a bit 'with TV and the Internet and here is the second pear. Shit. There is a very sad RAI transmission. They show the AC Milan game and connect with other fields for each goal scored. You hear the blare of a trumpet out of tune and is again Marassi: 3-0. Fuck. We pull down the equatorial virgins, turn off the heats and begin to talk business and various hobbies. From time to spend six months a year here, and will place via email to Mystic Ligorna and Stanley to Sestri Levante. My last Sunday promises to be black. Black as Africa, and perhaps even more. In the study of the Romans RAI gloating. Begin the second time and rings the trumpet. The golletto Palacio us afresh. Come on, guys! After the second goal rossoblù we are sure you will not end like this: they do or the fourth or draw. Trombetta. Beers. Pictures of Griffin embracing. We jump up like crazy, scream, wake the whole neighborhood. I look at my watch, I watch your mouth and proclaim: "Now I want to win." What happened the winning goal I'll leave to your imagination. A historic comeback, a pleasure. I go to the hotel to pick up my friend, we dress up and go to rossoblù to celebrate a wonderful restaurant recommended by the beak: "The Old Man and the Sea". As Hemingway would have done, but also PAP, we strabuffiamo fish and crustaceans, decked with the colors of the Griffon. Around us there is a Muslim family, who does not understand but adjusts.
Then the evening slips into night, which is the long night of farewells. The joy is diluted in nostalgia, the tusker no longer enough to curb the sadness and the eyes of my fellow African-genoani uncontrollable tears run down. I figure it's better to cut your head the bull, before the situation deteriorates. We gather with all the tenderness and can slip in the last two beer Rohypnol. The feelings fade. The 4-3 pm hour seems far away. And even more distant, the last derby win by default. But that's okay. Also to bear the happiness you have to be trained.
From kids to the first team: a Gryphon unforgettable apotheosis.
If so give me time, I subscribe to stay here. Other than
Pizzighettone!

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No man is an island. Martina Colombari

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, part of the whole Earth, and if one plate is taken away by the wave of the sea, Europe is lacking something, as if a promontory were in place, or the house of a man, a friend or your own home. Each man's death diminishes me because I am living part of the human race. So never send to ask for whom the bell tolls: it tolls for thee. (John Donne )

This deep and apparently a bit 'grim reflection of John Donne, rather than talk about the death of interdependence.
Interdependence is a concept now completely alien to our everyday lives. The test you every day seeing more and more convinced they are an island people behave as if they were the only ones on earth, moving and acting oblivious to the fact that their life depends on others. You do not need so much injustice, enough small daily actions carried out by ignoring the existence of a world of people around us to slowly erode a "turf."

From stealing car park outside the lines to the other, and sometimes in the "loser" of others could be you, being a bit 'asshole at the counter of the Registry, either as an employee as a user, because some times the affected the stronzaggine you be you. These behaviors are often guided more by ignorance than from malice, but difficult to generate chains of interruptible resentments and irritations, as find the car parked without regard to the other nicely striped.

Unfortunately, if we fail to understand that we are not an island in the little things of everyday life difficult to understand in the face of major events and the biggest of us who are people of a continent, a part of humanity.

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GRANDFATHER Kazungu DOGS AND IN AFRICA

"Grandpa, why the dog barks acacia?"
"Often, his nephew, when you have nothing to say, you can tell just screaming"

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If you do not live in Italy as well, come to Africa.
If you live in Italy but has become a good country shit, come to Africa.
If you have an income of € 700 and you can not even eat, come to Africa.
If you love animals more than human, come to Africa.
If your husband is an animal but do not love him anyway, come to Africa.
If your wife loves another animal, you are in Africa.
Come to Africa instead of suicide for trivial reasons.
Come to Africa instead of suicide for substantive reasons.
Come to Africa if you have not even a reason to commit suicide.
If you have sick and tired of your country, come to Africa.
If your country has sick and tired of you, come in Africa.
There is always a solution, and not kill his wife, children and even the sister in law. Parts for Africa.
If you choking smog, come to breathe in Africa.
If the job you stressed out, come to sew in Africa.
If you worked for a living, come to laze in Africa. In Africa
rediscover yourself.
If you do not have "yourself" in Africa rediscover someone else.
If you have the courage to change their lives, come to Africa.
If you have the courage to change lives, come to Africa. Look
gratified helping others, there is Africa. Look
graffiti soul, there is Africa.
African soul ... If you want the you know.
If you're not part of a majority, come to Africa.
Africa is not for everyone, fortunately, does not mean that it is not for you.
E 'advice to those who want to be your friend, come to Africa.
Sure, I could also cheat, but come in Africa.
In reality, the better we are, the better we are.
Indeed, I fear that is closer then we become too many.
Who knows, maybe I'd like everyone in Africa to come back and alone in Italy.
But no. It 's just absurd that I have this defect.
In the end I believe the man.
I would give him one last chance.
start from scratch all together. In Africa.
I know it's only a dream.
you're right.
'm an incurable dreamer.
Continue to think so too.
Stay where you are well, you dream your dreams Westerners.
The difference is only one: I'm living my dream.
Every moment, every day. In
Africa.

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"MALAIKA" - 2 points


So I am going to the airport.
I could not talk to Lorenzo, the only clue I have is represented by a fax number. He never gave his address, once informed by a travel agency in Zanzibar which I wrote immediately and received no answer.
It 'still out there that I had to stop.
at 47 is the first time that I face an intercontinental flight, my passport is almost untouched, it has two or three spots of Swiss chocolate, a visit to a cousin who lives in Stockholm for twenty years, married to a psychologist, and the last pilgrimage in the footsteps of Portuguese Bernardo Soares, the place of the writer Fernando Pessoa.
Everything here, in the last years.
I'm not afraid of the plane, mind you, but I went there only for a short European routes, distresses me a little 'having to spend nine hours.
I be able to read? Will I sleep?
I look tired and amused, as I had been drugged, the varied humanity connected to safety belts, the worried faces of those who is always moving forward with the next, already looks abroad to those who have dreamed this holiday for a whole year, the bags under his eyes from routine business, two briefcases. The hostess
do a job like any other, only with less certainty underfoot.
traveling on a route parallel to the plane, engage the autopilot of her femininity, flying habits and mood to any turbulence. Maybe that's why, when they touch the ground, often feel uncomfortable, sleeping like hibernating rodents, or strive to live a normal life.
Most seem mad as a hatter, or overly superficial.
are sailors obliged with a smile and girls image-pressurized.
Divagando turns his gaze to the door beside me. I look at anything out there and I try to impormelo inside, but check the profile of Lusitanian Bernard, who from her window, now round and double glazing, the spy who, day after day, trying to erase the rituals and tells me to travel just exist. If you feel
Lorenzo! In order to give him a sense of existence has always been enough to travel, as dowsers hunting for bits of ego around the planet.
wonder if his puzzle is complete.
package arrives hot lunch consisting of a moist Roast with carrots cut thick, plastic-Dutch cheese, pastarelle and fruity. I try to enjoy it, I ask one more bottle of red wine. My neighbor pays homage to a chair I mimic good progress for a commercial-in favor of prohibition.
We have not yet spoken to.
I start to think back to Lorenzo. There he once again, in my destiny, thirty years later. Perhaps this has further encouraged me to accept the proposal for a desperate Beatrice is like closing the circle.
I remember it like yesterday, the day they joined the second G with H, in high school.
At that time I was a seventeen year old child, I watched the girls with the same intensity with which I studied Greek statues of Corinthian period, I had fun with the bike and ping-pong and read, but I did not read.
Professor of Greek, Paganovitz, proud look Radetzki and impenetrability of karstic rock of the Friuli, she had brought a dowry of the fifteen most deserving students, leaving the less good the F section. The only exception, but Lorenzo had one year less than others, according to the same kapo, had "room for improvement." In fact
austerity surplus Mitteleuropa correct grappa had a soft spot for him.
Its lakeside air, sickly and suffering, the physicist and dry lanky adolescent restless, the irony never irreverent, now also conquered new classmates. At that time I
Ran with Milena, or rather that she was forced to read boring and going to the Cinematheque Municipal do not know what inspiration of attraction. In a way I liked, was awake and willing, did not seem to pretend to feel good about myself, and wore a cup size that I did not think existed in nature. As always struggled to take the initiative, said that sexual impulses was not ready, and that she was not exactly my type.
However I was almost jealous, possessive I discovered I was down to teaching and developing the attitude she was my first student.
We had a good relationship, that brotherhood of glances made accomplices, sentences begin and end with a second, coded messages and private languages.
Milena was the first to yield to the charm of Lorenzo. I told him as easily as when I showed her breasts, to ask whether the right was slightly bigger than the left and if the circles of her nipples were like two egg yolks slightly.
When he sensed that I was going to stay evil, believed to act for the better.
"I really want to go to bed," he admitted, "but if you want to be the first ..."
What kindness! I offered her virginity in exchange for the termination of a contract adolescent to feel free to pursue a career woman.
"Rather go to bed with me Lorenzo," I said at the outset.
It was nice, for my part, but Miles laughed.
He was unable to hate, hate not even Lorenzo of which, indeed, quickly became friends.
I admired him for the ease with which he took his life, for the way he treated the girls. He appeared disinterested, always captivated by music from his guitar, as I was for the books, but he loved so much the fact that they harmonize in his lap blues.
Milena was one of many, but fell in love and I suffered a lot, so that was rejected and changed school. Then Lorenzo attended Anna, who was quite inhibited, clung to me because Lorenzo was expected to woo her, so typical riscontrai many other girls.
Anna had a tic that made her blink continuously, and two soft lips. He spent entire afternoons to tell me the dreams he had done the previous night, and dreams there was always Lorenzo.
main actors of his dream movie: dressed as Prince Charming, dressed as traffic policemen, Lorenzo bank robber, police commissioner, Malaysian pirate corpse. Always him.
Anna turned to us for a couple of months, is interested in jazz, he learned to drink alcohol and take to the sound of vomit in the streets, solos of John Coltrane and sunrise views from windows on the bias never the same.
Then one day, Lawrence said he had sex, and that had been a disappointing half.
"Stiff as a carp," was his comment.
followed boring afternoons and evenings full of tension. One Saturday, while leaving the concert Archie Shepp and his quartet, but he found an excuse to quarrel with both feminine and not ever came.
Later I learned that he had had an abortion.
Lorenzo continued to not chase skirts, often approaching the same age only to present them to me, but as my mother said, "that boy is born with a magnet.
They stared at her blue eyes and his mouth, he did nothing but extol the qualities of my entertainer, my culture, my intellect. I just smiled, the girls showed no interest and in the end, he withdrew.
"You can not become an adult and remain chaste," he joked.
Actually I was more fascinated by his way of seducing involuntary, that bothered to imitate or find a way my approach to the female gender. I enjoyed almost see it combined with the most vain, to hesitate to even the most reluctant and often got angry, when he stops to go to bed with a girl who had introduced me, and he thought he could tease my senses still in embryo.
By Beatrice was different.
I knew immediately that was a kind of Beatrice Lorenzo female. It seemed very little to keep us kids, she was beautiful but most austere, independent, mature.
was hard to find out his vulnerable side. Lorenzo
the hated, perhaps he sensed that there was something in her that he would have caught.
fact at that time was I to approach her.
We exchanged books, records, films seen impressions of the film, commenting on the political news and we were preparing together for the School Question.
I think that would attract my way not to see how I liked it, my non-woo, do not try, do not tell her how beautiful she was. Involuntarily, for the first time, I was working the tactics of Lorenzo. Sometimes
happened at my house when he was there, and they were throwing barbs on the edge of bad taste, always giving the impression of trying ideas for the fight.
We could have sworn that they would put together, and that would be lasting union.
What I would not have imagined that would happen at night when I decided to reveal to you my love for Beatrice, and that I suffered so much for the change of character that Lawrence suffered from their relationship.
were made for each other, seeing them fight was neorealist cinema, the dialogues were recorded, their physical reach perfection, they were beautiful. Take advantage of my dual role of confidant for the determination of possible elements of a struggle.
I enjoyed, and I knew perfectly as trigger hurricanes from a simple drop of rain.
Days passed, months.
My attitude towards them did not change.
I realized that I was in love the same way both of them, I need both.
was terrible, sketched of plausible explanations, I tried to stifle the feelings. I made comparisons with other girls, with other couples. I asked an older cousin to me how to distinguish jealousy from loneliness, how to recognize love. But every time I did not know whether to speak of Beatrice or Lorenzo. Because in the end I knew the problem was him. I finally had to convince myself that the reality was turned upside down: I loved Beatrice because after all, temperamentally, she was a man.
The relationship between Lawrence and Beatrice I changed his life. I
immersed in books to find literary references to what was happening to me. Oscar Wilde
I read and reread like a sacred text, I analyzed prose and poetry of Pasolini, I tried damn comparisons in French, I plunged in the stories of Pier Vittorio Tondelli to ward off any extreme attitudes, and learn to know me better.
This time the ink Bernardo Soares friend I had not been helpful, I knew to be an outsider to my own will, and for this I would have suffered less in the future than any other element of diversity with the majority of human human, but I could not ignore a question that was every day more insistent and plausible.
I was really gay?
I would not be able to reveal the emotional torments of my two friends, what I could tell them "You guys, maybe I'm queer and I love them both!"
I would, gradually, carefully removed.
The maternal instinct is not an opinion at home had become the refrain "when you find a girl like you should?"
was that "properly" I've never been able to bear.
Even my two friends will endeavor to find a girlfriend that fits me, dragged me with them on vacation and for me it was already the best. I knew that I would never find a woman who I could make you change your mind and hardly a gay man with the characteristics of Lorenzo.
began to suffer seriously from my diversity, because I felt detached from the different communities: they only ever talked about sex: what is fennel, look! Shake your ass like un'entraineuse ... Lidia is a lesbian, Adele if licked by the dog, Guido is gerontophile, the only like the ladies of a certain age, and you also pay ...
But for me there was something else.
They did not understand, poor things. M'invaghivo soul, not the body. The soul is not male nor female, for there is in the heart of masculinity as much as women's femininity the bottom of the character of certain males. Of these thoughts and still suffered from the alleged taboo to think freely, because the years went by and something had to happen though. It was in Corsica that is triggered a new mechanism, in them and me.
One night in camp, I entered the bungalow of Lorenzo and Beatrice to drink fresh water, that my cabin had no refrigerator. The wind in the island is not subsiding, and sometimes is never a breath accomplice, others an annoying hum made me an ally softening squeaking. The door was ajar, I do not care to current and I was tempted to close it to prevent sbattesse and awakened with a start. But they do not rest. Indeed, they were making love so strong that I could not interested in them. There was a window grill in the kitchen vent that led to the bedroom. I made a wish that I could not just be curiosity. I climbed on a chair without making too much noise and leaned.
It was a beautiful scene, turning the full moon that was light on the two bodies. Meat that was the color of fire. Bea's stifled scream and sweat in every corner of her beauty, Lorenzo was raging at her with mechanical precision and undulations of the basin that seemed designed by a choreographer. I did not know where to look, the half-closed mouth of the girl who begged, smiled, bowed and was reopened in groans at his approach, or buttocks shiny and elastic Lorenzo, showing that it contracted intermittently the rectum as taut as a plunger.
I masturbated, it was my first sexual adventure. As I reached orgasm I seemed to see Bea open your eyes, look up and smile. To date, those images are inside of me as the best film I've ever seen. Anime friends and beautiful bodies together.
The next morning I was visibly upset, my head was bursting, my legs trembled all day. Lorenzo was convinced that I have a fever, Beatrice did nothing but play down, every now and then approached and stroked my hair.
"Professor, come to the beach naturist Balistra with us?" He asked, sure I would have taken advantage of migraine to let them go alone. I would be ashamed like a thief, but the desire to see the two bodies was enormous.

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THE DAY I became Giriama


In fact I have always suspected of being a Giriama, to belong to one of the tribes of Africa less considered one of the most peaceful and sluggish at the sight of Westerners, but also one of those who have not sold out their traditions, but rather prefer to live with them daily and not make a boast postcard, as is the case for the Maasai, who have showered him with a popularity that many years must be reckoned with.
Giriama I do not have a warrior's appearance, rather they are farmers of equator, have sculpted cheekbones and large with the sickle stocky bodies that cross the land better than the plows.
believe in the ancestors as I thought my grandfather had a queen, Mepoho, and women were to rule the villages, until it became necessary to wage war with enemies that they contended muscle strength and spears.
When I arrived in Kenya for the first time I was twenty, and as the poet says, M'innamoro all. The nature and involves me and were not part of nature only the baobab, the frangipani, the Indian Ocean, monkeys and monitor lizards, but also the local population, who could live in harmony, however, still unaware that the "Mzungu" the they considered paradise.
After a week in a village Giriama, sleeping existent on the mattress in a mud hut (still am convinced that most of the rheumatic pains that I have been caused by one week), I realized that I was led to enter the very same vein of thought. I began the process of Africanization. The first to notice that I was a Giriama, were my hair. The hair, you know, being closer to the brain matter, are privileged, they understand things first. They began to grow even more wild and shaggy, more blacks and strong.
another twenty years have passed since then and a half there have been many stories, some books and months and months of studies on people Giriama and tribal life. In the meantime I'm back in Italy and I have told all my Africanism, in 2005 I made my choice and two years ago my daughter was born in Mombasa.
Today, after the association mAdc for the conservation and recovery of traditions Giriama awarded me the "giriamitudine" honorary finally gather the fruit of a great passion for this land, for these people aware of its history more than millions of Italians they are today, proud of their ingenuity, always prepared for the worst and so uncertain tomorrow to celebrate the day before as even the distant past, living in this manner dramatically in line with our wretched times.
I used too many words and too convoluted for a Giriama. I depart from the philosophy and ruminations. From today Mbogo clan Amelulu Kimera. A Giriama.