At certain point looked like we were selected to participate in a kind of 'world wide water project championship', organised by a private foundation and one of us was invited to go to Europe to assist at the awards ceremony.
We decided to send the engineer.
God, he was exited. He was so exited that driving in the Savanna and speaking about is next trip, we got completely lost, in time and in space.
But obviously at the end, after hours driving having as only reference the Kilimanjaro down there, we found our way back to the camp and Simon did not loose his flight toward north.
Everybody envy him, but did not want to admit it.
So someone was murmuring that the water project wasn't so spectacularly good, and others that had to be very cold in those days in Europe and there was not better climate than the Tanzanian one. "Dry season is so good for the skin".
But when Simon came back, with a fancy and sporty new jacket, and an horrible and huge and heavy copper trophy, all of them were around him, the brave engineer who actually managed to go out from Africa, expensed.
And he past like seven full working days to explain and tell about this so called First World.
I was thinking he was impressed by things like traffic lights at each crossing, elevators in each building, dust bin in each sidewalk, pine scented toilets, tunnel through the mountains, women in high heels carrying the fat fruits of their abdomen in a stroller and not in their backs, but the storyteller, the water engineer, was fixed on that point: from the aqueducts they do not have water, they have BEER!
Someone in a bar just served him a draft beer.
We decided to send the engineer.
God, he was exited. He was so exited that driving in the Savanna and speaking about is next trip, we got completely lost, in time and in space.
But obviously at the end, after hours driving having as only reference the Kilimanjaro down there, we found our way back to the camp and Simon did not loose his flight toward north.
Everybody envy him, but did not want to admit it.
So someone was murmuring that the water project wasn't so spectacularly good, and others that had to be very cold in those days in Europe and there was not better climate than the Tanzanian one. "Dry season is so good for the skin".
But when Simon came back, with a fancy and sporty new jacket, and an horrible and huge and heavy copper trophy, all of them were around him, the brave engineer who actually managed to go out from Africa, expensed.
And he past like seven full working days to explain and tell about this so called First World.
I was thinking he was impressed by things like traffic lights at each crossing, elevators in each building, dust bin in each sidewalk, pine scented toilets, tunnel through the mountains, women in high heels carrying the fat fruits of their abdomen in a stroller and not in their backs, but the storyteller, the water engineer, was fixed on that point: from the aqueducts they do not have water, they have BEER!
Someone in a bar just served him a draft beer.
 |
| His name is not actually Pedro. A Masai leader |
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