Yerk. He is about 8 years old and was born into slavery. As a young child he started working as a servant. Every day he would cook, buy meat and rice at the market, buy toys he never got to play with for children who would spit on him. He cleaned and served. The only pay he got was beating.
I met him in March earlier this year. Not long after he had fled from the family, rescued by the organisation who’s leader recently was released from prison where he was tortured for his struggles to free humans living in slavery.
When I met Yerk he had big plans for his future, and it was with joy I read the message from my friend the other day:
I have good news and I want to share it with you. Some days ago I saw Yerk’s, the little former slave,picture. Written under it: he was the first of his class!
He had a really steep hill at the start of his life, but he is climbing it and that is inspirational.
You go Yerk!
Old sinewy men with red backpacks and their trekking boots firmly tied all the way up around the ankles, the flowing river with green mineral-rich water in the city mixed with families and adrenaline-seeking young men… This is Chamonix. It’s like we’re walking on the head of the emperor and around us is his majestic crown Mont Blanc.
We arrived in the middle of a heatwave, but the evenings are nice and perfectly cool. At the chalet we got an ensuite bedroom with a splendid bathtub, but only have to pay the price of the dorm. We booked a French class with maximum 16 people in each class, and found ourselves with only six more classmates. I think we can say our karma is right where it should be; on top. Or maybe it was there the whole time?
As we came back to the chalet this evening one of the other travellers asked “what’s up with you guys having to sleep in a roundabout? You Have to tell me this story!”
I simply love travelling, it’s always an adventure. Tomorrow we’ll get up onto one of those mountains surrounding us, look out for the photos.
Remember the worms?
I’ve finally remembered to bring the tabletts. The tabletts I bought at the small modern pharmacy in Malawi that are supposed to kill the worms I might have growing under my skin, waiting to crawl up to my liver, heart and lungs and eat it.
It sounds really bad, so I keep telling myself it’s ok, but I will take the pills just in case. When I had finished all subscriptions I got from the doctor when I had malaria the thought of taking more pills were horrifying. I didn’t want to swallow another one for the rest of my life. The worm-killing ones are six, first three and then another three some hours later, and large. Huge actually. And there might not even be any worms crawling inside of me.
I’ve decided to take on blogging again, but this time I think I have an idea of what I want to say.
So, to celebrate my new insights, I’ve removed all old posts and from here on I’m gonna write about my thoughts and travels. Only.
But then, what is traveling? Is a travel within the mind the same as a trip to Sahara?
I will write about my travel dreams and the ones that I actually do. I will let you follow me planning my trips and hopefully this can be a pleasant experience for both of us.
Let’s do this. For the world and a better life for all.