The man behind the camera

The adventure starts today. This is my simple view of life. Hope you will enjoy it.

[elmalha]

Panama I . Santa Catalina.

I hope I don't make it, 'cause I wanna get back to you.

I arrived on a cloudy day. As always, when humidity achieves this kind of level, all my clothes get sticky and wet and there is nothing I can do about it. The moisturizer, sunscreen, mozzie repellent and perfume, all together, make a thick barrier in my skin that sticks to all the dirt and dust around making me look more tanned than I usually am. I never seem to care until my white shirts turn brown. And I love my white shirts.

This trip was different, I had some references from my friend Bri who pointed me the unmissable places in Panama. She is lovely and getting better by the day. As usually, I didn’t bother to plan till 3-4 days before stepping onto the plane and to my surprise, found out that there was a national holiday coming up and everything was booked. I arrived late, after hours, when everything was dark and the roads were muddy due to the tropical rain. I saw 2 snakes on the path to my ecolodge in the middle of nowhere. Head lamp in hand, I walked a muddy path where my biggest fear was to step on a spider or a snake and (almost) instantly die. My backpack was heavy. I hope I don’t make it, cause I wanna get back to you. The lodge was fancy and empty. The wood creaked with every step and the spiders and mantis reminded me of how big bugs can get. I was there, living the longest nights. At night the skies were an infinite scenario that looked like chalk or cocaine scattered on a black board. I’ve seen this before, as bright as it gets, but I’m always awe-inspired by the sight. Lonely nights, yeah yeah.

The following days were a mix of joy and serenity. Finding peace in your violence. I surfed twice or thrice a day, switching between a juice and a book and long walks along empty beaches. I almost reached the very end of the peninsula, wouldn’t it be for a crocodile resting on a green hill close to the beach that kept me from walking due to my fear of animals with teeth. The days were so long that one of then included me crossing a muddy river, at night, underwater, holding my breath and eye-lids shut to get home. By the time I crossed the river, three Colombians were filming me and commenting that they though I wouldn’t make it. But I did. It was worth it. I saw the sunset in the water, sitting on my surfboard and turned brown by the end of the day.

Perfection doesn’t exist, but I was sure close to it. Wouldn’t it be for the fact that once again I was traveling alone, sharing my memories with myself. I think I’m in need of a savior.

[elmalha]

Last post from Cape Verde, a year later.

Cape Verde must have been one of my favorite places on earth. I was greeted with morabeza,  something most countries are unaware of. Morabeza is not just a word or a behavior, it’s not just politeness or warmness, it’s culture I’ve never seen anywhere else. It’s to become part of the family before you arrive, it’s to forever be part of that family even years after of not seeing each other. I was welcomed in every corner and helped in every bit. I followed their vibe and saw that they don’t care for anything apart from enjoying life.

Cape Verde is not just an amazing country, it’s an amazing country with the most warm hearted people I’ve met.

I wished I was like them. Just plain happy in their simplicity.

[elmalha]

Santo Antão Pars II - It was summer when I saw your face, just a huge mountain surrounded by clouds and rain. I tried to upset my pace, just like a runaway.

I went up that road while the sun was rising. It was early, very early. Like 6AM when I got the first bus from Ponta do Sol to Ribeira Grande and then up to Corda. I had 4 bananas and a pack of walnuts in my bag, as well as a huge bottle of water that I was eager to drink as it was hurting my back.

I was running and couldn’t stop anywhere I was going. Places were closed but I managed to find a homemade bakery on the way. They had guava and coconut pastries that I packed carefully on some napkins smelling of fries.

I took the bones out of the road and embraced the greenery, scenery and other things that don’t rhyme. There was something I could tell you, but now I’m running and I won’t stop, I wanna go.

There were trees of fruit on the way. The oranges were as acid as my stomach after a night out. The passion fruits were sweet. I found an old lady farming about an hour and a quarter after I started climbing. She was sweet, hard to understand, but sold me some really nice guava jam that I’ve been eating till today. Every bite I took I thought of botulism, but it seems that it was as clean as my hands after a nice shower.

I arrived on the crater a few hours later. The water, pastries, bananas and walnuts were long gone and all that was left were plastic bags, fries-smelling napkins and guava jam. There were goats and cows. I reasoned that wearing shorts was not a good decision as it was cold and I could feel imaginary ticks going up my fur.

I’m never that same after this. I had to hitchhike my way down on a really old van thinking of those endless nights and shot gun love.

[elmalha]

Santo Antão - Pars I

I arrived on the island on a sunny day. My stomach was twitching from the hours on the unsteady boat, but I saw whales breathing and jumping on the way there.

From the first moment, I felt that the place was different. The air was clean. Time stops when your beat drops. I started hitchhiking and hopped on an old truck carrying water bottles around the island. The owner was barely understandable but the conversation was fluid. Pretty hurts and he was feeling sad for his younger daughter who couldn’t find a lover. He hoped I would be the one for her. I was not.

I arrived in the furthest part of the island. Ponta do Sol. And started looking for accommodation. There was no one around, just old people sitting on squares, drinking juices and alcohol. The girl in the supermarket pointed me to an old lady whose name I can’t remember anymore. She accepted me in her deceased sons’ room. It smelled mossy, humid, with tons of photos and paintings around, the floor was covered in a velvet carpet that sank every time I stepped. Anyway, art is culture in me and I wasn’t going to spend much time in my room. I started walking towards the sea and saw the cliffs on the way to Fontaínhas, just after climbing the first hill, past the graveyard.

Baby I hate listening. But I couldn’t breathe with the depths of those cliffs, collapsing on the sea, a deep blue and green that the photos didn’t retain.

Boy, can you please play that again? I want to run down those hills again like a kid.

The moonshine arrived by the time I arrived on a cliff sided village. Doors and windows shut down but I felt like molly. You know what they say; we’re here today and gone tomorrow.

But tomorrow never came as I never left.

[elmalha]

Saõcente - Cape Verde -  This time I waited a year to post again.

By the time I got there, my memories from Senegal were blurry and maybe gone, as I completely forgot where I put the SD card. No regrets though. What was to come would blow my mind away till this day.

It was windy and sunny, cloudy and still, I saw the 4 seasons pass by as I walked between Baia das Gatas and Calhau. I cant remember what I was listening to anymore, but I know that those kilometers were nice and easy.

Where the wild things are, I said to you. Or I think I said. Expecting you to understand and follow. No questions. Its where we can make mischeafs of one kind or another.

I had black and white sand everywhere. You had none. You and I, we're pioneers. We got there in a wink, already with new rules, no bias. So lets gather all the rebels now, we'll rebel-rouse and sing aloud.

And indeed we sang.

There were 3 volcanoes. Maybe more as they were wide and I’m pretty short, so I may have confused volcanoes with hills. But they were hard to climb. Those pebbles from the beach became small lava rocks and then big lava rocks.

The lady from the restaurant warned me to not climb the volcano on the right - so I did. Freedom is where the wild things which is a place that exists in our mind. Or maybe in our heart if our heart could think. It may take a lifetime to find. Someone else said this and I agreed.

But it all comes to this, 

Its us and a song, dancing with the wind and sun, fine all by ourselves. Eyes closed and colors exploding and filling time and space with maniac ink. On top of that volcano.

I fell quite a few times on the way there, filled my legs with bleeding scratches. But it was worth it. It makes space in the darkest part of our souls.

And then it was time to leave - you said Stay, don’t go. I’ll eat you up I love you so.

We can’t be scared of it. And I’m glad to be writing again

[elmalha]

Last post from Mozambique.

This is not about me. It’s about the people I met while in that trip.

It’s about Ana, who showed me the best part of having a friend.

It’s about Joana, who showed me what resilience looks like.

It’s about the Mozambican Macua lady who forced me to dance.

It’s about the driver who took me to Kruger Park and ended up sleeping in my cottage.

It’s about the assistants in the hospital who always said “It will be done” and never did.

It’s about all the kids I could help.

It’s about all the kids I couldn’t help.

It’s about the one who infested me with Enterobius.

It’s about the kid I promised to take to the cinema for the first time and died 2 days later, without going to the cinema.

It’s about the kid who said I was the cutest doctor she ever saw.

It’s about the baby who stopped breathing in my hands due to malaria.

It’s about all the doctors and residents I met who were sacrificing their personal life to help the kids in the hospital.

It’s about the kids with TBM and spastic paralysis, of which only one survived. But that one came back to thank us all.

It’s about the grandma who carried her granddaughter all the way from Macia to the hospital, climbed all the stairs and watched her die of cryptococcal meningitis.

It’s about that mother who cried when we managed to cure her daughter with a VP shunt meningitis.

It’s about the caretaker of my building who always helped me putting my garbage away.

It’s about the lady who sold me peanuts for barely nothing every morning.

It’s about the boy I carried in my lap for 12h on my trip to Inhambane.

It’s about the taxi driver with whom we had the car accident on the way to Nampula and all we could think was about African tick fever.

It’s about the student who stole his fathers’ car to take me to Catembe and didn’t have a drivers licence.

It’s about the chapa rider who fixed the car 16 times on the way to Ponta do Ouro.

It’s about the driver who brought me back from Ponta do Ouro on his truck with his dog and got me fleas.

It’s about Roland who was protecting dolphins.

It’s about the kids with flip flops following me around in Ilha.

It’s about the best Bunny Chow I ever ate.

It’s about Zé, who has one of the biggest hearts I ever met.

It’s about Brie and Rennie who relentlessly surfed for hours with me.

It’s about the people I met and described here, It’s about the people I met and couldn’t describe here, It’s about the people I never met, It’s about the people I already forgot.

It’s about the soundtrack in my head.

Don't be scared of what you don't already know.

[elmalha]

Swaziland.

I don't mind if you wanna go anywhere I'll take you there.

This is where we climbed Sheebas’ breasts, talked nonsense, had a one on one encounter with a black mamba, got lost in the Savanah, walked with zebras, met crocodiles, and laughed the whole day cause we were afraid of having chapped lips the day after.

[elmalha]

Tofo and Ponta do Sol - Magical things happen for a reason. I woke up at 4AM on a Saturday, tired as always. I walked next door where someone was supposed to come and pick me and take me to Junção where I was supposed to get a bus. I did. However, the bus was filled, and the lady sitting next to me didn’t have enough money to pay for one of her sons seat so she asked me to take him in my lap. I said yes. And regretted it for the 13h it took us to get to Inhambane. I guess the temperature was like 30-35º all the trip, I was sweating, the kid was sweating, but he managed to sleep the whole time.

I got to Tofo in the late afternoon, really in a bad mood and was welcomed in my wood shack, with a surf board and some big big spiders. Across the street was the beach, immaculate, no real toilets anywhere, but an amazing feeling all around.

I was greeted by Roland a few hours later and we went to a dinner with a group where I met Brie and Rennie. They were enthusiastic. Really enthusiastic. They were the kind of people I wanted to have around all the time! We went surfing more than 5h a day. My belly button almost disappeared because of that! Then again, surfing shirtless is never a good idea.

Few weeks later I went to Ponta do Sol. Woke up early, crossed to Catembe by ferry and waited and waited for hours for a chapa to arrive. All the roads were muddy and impossible to use. And there we went. 20 people in a 11 seater bus. I was sitting in my bag all the time. The bus managed to break down at least 16 times on the way. We sat and waited in roads,dried lakes, deserts, sand, middle of nowheres... But we got there. It looked like Tofo, but a bit more well kept. The dunes, sea and forest was astonishing. Just astonishing.

The way back was at least as endearing. I manged to get a lift in an open truck, where the dogs normally go. It was free, so I can’t complain. But got some of my worst flea bites ever. I love you doxy, you never disappoint me.

To sum up, I ate the best Bunny Chow ever. Collected some of my best memories ever. And realized, I’m really simple and low maintenance.

[elmalha]

Nampula, Nacala, Chocas, Charrusca, Goa

More than a melody’s needed to remind me of the happiness I felt wandering around in a boat with two of the greatest people I’ve ever met. The day started with a stroll around an island that felt like home. I heard flip-flops following me at all times, I didn’t care. I knew they were happy to walk behind me, with their smiles and oversized flip-flops. And this flip-flop sound will for ever haunt me in my sleep. The boat was sloppy, rustic, old, lovely and useful. Took a while to go against the wind, but the water was so clear that we felt like we were a diamond floating in a crystal sea. Back then I could still hear clearly, which is something I can’t anymore. Nacala was paradise, Chocas and Charrusca child memories, Goa island a dream.

The beaches were desert if we ignored the infinite amount of sea shells around and sea animals. The wind was pleasant and my skin the darkest I’ve seen in a while. The silence was only broke by the wind in the palm trees. We acted like little kids around. We were happy. Very very happy. And those feelings are unforgettable.  That filament that flies by, brings yellow light from those yellow summers back. Reminds me I don’t need much to be happy. Just me, and true friends.

As we saw the sun setting behind Nampula mountains, with the smell of coconut palm and fear of crocodiles, we realized the song was beyond us.

[elmalha]

Mozambique – Ilha de Moçambique.

At least two moons passed by since I last wrote in this blog. One motivated by inertia. The other motivated by nothing.

Mozambique is not a country but a memory. Memories of dreams fulfilled, by means of friendships and loneliness.

The adventure started in Maputo. But my recalls are so stubbornly sad that I will leave that for last. So I decided to start by the good. The friendship.  A few years ago a short stature smiley creature entered my department leaving nothing but debris of her dreams of going to Mozambique. Some years later we were both stepping our feet there, feeling the humidity and the weird feeling of people looking at us for being white.  

We headed to the Ilha de Moçambique, the former capital. We got there in a taxi and got back to Nampula in a taxi as well. We barely died when someone forgot to fit the wheel axis to the car and we fell in the bushes. The girls were crying in the back. I was reading a book about tuberculosis.

Our fotogenicity made us move faster and faster. Those flip flops were annoying, following us at every minute. Into the streets, the toilets, the shops, the cafes, the boats. Attached to them were little kids treating us by our names. I really wanted to stay and hear those flip flops every day. They were cheerful and simple, expecting candy for nothing, trying to sell things they found in the street. We can stay for ever young. It was not only one night. There were stars every night. Twenty four carats of pure gold in the sky.

We killed mosquitoes inside the bed net. We told stories about Harry Potter taking us in a boat. We ate cheesecake without cheese or cream.

It blew my mind and I want to rewind.

[elmalha]

Madagascar

The last post from Madagascar

[elmalha]

Madagascar last pt. - Anakao, Sarodrano, Googles and surroundings. Preparing the end.

  She came with a smile in her face. Coughing her lungs out and complaining of her sickness. She wanted to get barrelled so bad it made me want to get barrelled as well. I didn’t know what the feeling would be, but she did.

Around me were kids, dark skinned, always asking for candy. The act of purchasing a cookie attracted dozens of them with the sound of plastic cracking and coins chiming. They would flock like pigeons do when bread crumbs fall on the pavement.

Most of them were healthy looking. Fish wasn’t something missing around there, but teeth were. And therefore, as the good MD I’m not, I refused to share any piece of candy at all with any of them. I doubt they would have money for toothbrushes or toothpastes. I’m a cruel heart-breaking, fundamentalist bastard. And because of that, they had to go running after the American girl who gave them all her candy while taking selfies for Instagram, and then posted them as volunteer work.

While walking through the never-ending dunes flanked with walls filled with green bushes and bao-babs, people would sit and make fishing nets. My oily, sunscreen-filled and light-brown skin attracted attention at every step. Laughing or not they would stare at me and I would walk in their direction and sit and ask something weird in French or English with a French accent. Science is weird when I’m around. The wind would blow away any warmth the sun would create, but the reflect in the sandy paths would burn my feet and eyes at the glimpse of the horizon. I kept on looking down, and the wind blown sandmade me look like a schnitzel.

People in those villages were great. I’m very fond of Malgashe kindness. They would mind their own business and work as they have to survive. It’s not novelty that they do need some better (or any kind at all) organized health care, but I was there as a tourist and nothing more. Even though humanity erodes peoples’ eyes as they see misery. It’s impossible to not feel it. The feeling of wanting to do something. Daylight in bad dreams, in a cool world, full of cruel things (Lor-n). Far away I could see white wash of what could be the wave of my dreams. I wouldn’t even dream of that wave. And as I sat down looking at the horizon so did the kids that were following me at all the time, marveled and appalled by my camera and looks.

Inside I was feeling dirty, dirtier than my looks. Dirtier than that Tame Impalas’ video. I had not washed my face with non-salty water for 2 weeks, and cracks were starting to show up. There were no signs of fowl smells. Nor diarrhea. Nor pain. Nor stress. Nor thoughts of all the selfishness or envy I’m usually surrounded by when I’m working back in Pt. The less I know the better. But the moisturizer I bought back in Tulear was doing wonders.

Then the day came. I pulled it all together and let it go, not knowing why people were staring at me. Until I realized there was a water ceiling over me.

I was thriving. Smashed against a bao-bab. Tickled a monkey. Fell over my cloud.

I was in a barrel. And I will never forget that moment and those stares. The marvel. The uniqueness.

Nothing like a big bad bridge to go burning through.

[elmalha]

Anakao and around - Pt1

If something moves me is addiction. Addiction to the feeling I felt while traveling for the first time, of something permeating my body and soul, increasing heart rate, making my breath deep and sound, as if air was not entering like it should.

Anakao was an addiction. Looking at the stars. Looking at the sun. Light's still the same when it comes to warm us. Virile. The blaze.

Those mornings were cold but unforgettable. Sometimes there are no words to describe how enduring was the sun reflecting in a wall of water while you’re trimming your way in it. Just the three of us, me, Marcel and Dave. But silence is still talking; we put our hands up to say we’re not going for that wave. We look so stupid at first and then we start to believe in something. We watched each other score wave after wave.

We burned sunsets. We were happy. I was happy.

And that’s what matters, as I’m nothing more than human and for that reason, if I hold my dreams then I'm alive.

And my dream was to surf a barrel.

[elmalha]

Isalo NP part II. When the trail took me somewhere only we know.

The man who took ten years to bury his father took me up a path really early in the afternoon. He said “Messieur Louis (with a malgashe french accent), you should say goodbye to the Lemurs, they were always, and always will be here”. I saw in his eyes that we were going somewhere special. He was rooting for me, letting the winter break, letting my eyes lead the way.

I acted like a kid. I always do when I feel that something is about to happen. I went up in tiny jumps. My friend Ines says I climb stairs in a funny jumpy way.I don’t mind.

This time there was nothing to tell during the climb. No stories. Only you and I. The desert lead into a palm tree canyon which was also desert. No one there. Only animals and my imaginary friends I take traveling with me. They are the best.

Is it all for me? I though.  So, I hesitate. If only I could picture what I saw.  If only those sun-rays piercing the leaves could be caught on camera. Only you and I. And since there is no you, it’s only me. And my illusive friend who takes the pictures

«of that one of a kind place, I will never forget».

I felt my heartbeat as the leaves were moving with the breeze. There is something charming in the emptiness of an empty lagoon like that. The metronome was ticking. That ditty sound was penetrating my thoughts.

I could only do one thing to ease my mind.

I jumped in. I destroyed that emptiness with my laughs and water bombs to appease me. I was coherent with my childishness.

But then my haughty behavior lured the silence again. A plethora of feelings invaded me as I left those mountainous lagoons. One was black, one was green, the other was blue. The trail down was as fun as the climb. And my darling, I'll be rooting for you.

[elmalha]

Isalo NP Part 1 - Between mountains and valleys and green fields and deserts I followed a man that took 10 years to bury his father. Famadiana takes a while. It’s like saying goodbye to friends when a new topic appears every minute and keeps you from having the last handshake. Famadiana takes a whole lot of time. It’s like surfing when you’re waiting for the last wave and it never comes, and you wait until your hands and feet turn blue. Just like this guys’ father.

His accent was assertive, weird, bubbly. I’m not sure I understood all he said but I nodded yes to everything. Bobbly head, I thought.

He was born in the same year as me. In the meantime got married twice, had 4 sons, and at least 9 jobs. I was born in the same year as him. Never got married, can’t remember the last time I fell in love or dated anyone for more than 3 months, adopted a dog that was stolen by my parents, and had one job so far, at which I’m not even good. At least my acne was less severe than his.

I remember wondering why would people build their houses in those mountains. They were hard to climb but easy to fall, water was scarce and lemurs were running around trying to steal my food. There were some tombs carved in the rocks, related to Famadiana.

And there was a trail. Leading to a place I will never forget.

[elmalha]

Madagascar round 2 – Anja Reserve - Lemurs and Mountain rocks.

They are cute. They are very cute. They jump and run, they eat and sleep. They pose for pictures. But this is not about us. So don’t take it personally. Lemurs put their pride aside and hang with humans. They seem to like it. They kind of forget the landscape they are in and focus on us.

I couldn’t keep my eyes of the landscape. Those rocks looked like huge breasts full of milk about to feed a baby. Erupting from the ground. In Africa I already noticed a pattern of naming mountains after breasts. I see the resemblance. African women do elicit this feeling as most of them have perfect unspoilt bodies. Still don’t understand why rape is so common here though. Why force something when you could actually fight for their love with dignity. I never understood why things have to be easy. It’s so much more interesting to conquer the hardest of hearts. And usually the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts.

Some days ago there was a party here, where I am now, writing this foolishness. I didn’t attend as money runs out quite easily and the reason for the party was to build a well in a village somewhere. So you drink alcohol for the sake of the village. Seems weird. I still remember that when you try to change something in the African country you should really look into it.

One time they went into a village to build a well. Apparently women used to be raped on their way to the river to get water and they wanted to make a well closer, so that women wouldn’t have to walk that much and get raped on the way. After building the well, women still wanted to walk those 3km with the risk of being raped. Why? They forgot to ask the women if they wanted the well. They treasured their freedom more than the well. And those 3km back and forth was the only time of the day they had to hang with other females without being forced to work by the men in the village. The world is definitely screwed up when people rather risk being raped than losing their freedom. And freedom is definitely the most important thing.

The next day people were really happy for the party. The party was great apparently. After the euphoria ran out, tales of sex and infidelity showed up. Some regretful, others not. But everyone had something to share. It’s like watching a soap opera. There is love in our bodies and it holds us together, but pulls us apart when we're holding each other. And everyone tries too hard to fit in and be cool, instead of being themselves.

I won’t forget my walk towards those mountains that day. This is not about us. It’s about that walk between trees and lemurs, hanging weeds and surrounding plains. The views were magnificent and if I could and knew I wouldn’t die, I would probably jump and freefall. It would only take a minute.

While you try to compensate.

[elmalha]

Madagascar - Ranomafana - a new saga begins.

Freedom and nature were calling again. A year like this passes so strangely. Somewhere between sorrow and bliss. I woke up that morning and packed with so many things running through my mind. The ones I love, the ones I loved, the ones who never were. I told myself: I will be. And I will let it happen. And it happened. I was flying again with destiny on my mind, and a whole bunch of discoveries to make just like Diogo Dias did 500 years ago. The difference was that I’m small and irrelevant.

I arrived there, there was this song on my mind all the time. I imagined myself falling from the sky all the time. And you were there. With all your mighty and indifference. Complaining about me going surfing all the time or not being as imaginative as you wish I was.

As I set foot outside, people started greeting me. They were nice, and curious. I wasn’t afraid. I just looked up, breathed in and got into the car.

After that, magic started happening. Nature surrounded me as if I was part of it. I had my own opinion on it, and as the mountains and valleys came through, as the lemurs and chameleons said hi, my dreams unfolded. There was so much beauty and humidity that I couldn’t keep trace. But I was drawing them in a red notebook I brought from a trip from a long time ago. I really wished I was granted that I could stay the night or one more day inside this life. Ranomafana.

And so I decided.

That silence will not cover me.