Kisangani reminds me of Veracruz. You can smell the sweetness of mangoes and sugar cane, you can also feel the greatness of past times.

Kisangani does not feel like a one million city, it feels like one abandoned town. In the hotel I am staying at there is a big baranda where you can sit and watch the city, the sunset; all the nice things that happen when you sit and watch life. It reminds me of Hemingway sitting in al old cafe in La Habana.

Everyone is poor in Kisangani, maybe that is why there is some Kind of quietness. Or is it the quitness that comes after a dramatic event? Sitting here, in the hotel courtyard, I cannot imagine that a few miles away the guerrilla war is taking place, I cannot imagine that children are carrying guns killing other children.


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