21-12-2017 by Freddie del Curatolo
Dear African Santa Claus, an eleven year old boy named Kaingu, in the slum of Malindi, told me that you exist.
That there is not only your fellow of the Cold World, with ivory cheeks reddened from the cold and brandy, white long beard, sleigh turbo and horned reindeer.
05-11-2017 by Freddie del Curatolo
The scaremongering election bogeyman, confined to terrorism on the Somali border, with new treatments for malaria and its vaccine on the doorstep, how can people be frightened a little to avoid coming to Kenya?
05-08-2017 by Freddie del Curatolo
Every morning, with punctuality that is all but African, on the banks of the Sabaki River, just where the sea comes to drink from fresh water, a hippopotamus emerges from clayey water.
It is always the same specimen, although the locals assure that they have at least three twins.
She is an adult female and, as such, usually angry and frustrated.
15-07-2017 by Freddie del Curatolo
Watamu the beautiful.
Malindi the magic.
Watamu the young and sparkling.
Ancient Malindi but still interesting.
I like to imagine the two resorts of Kenya as two mixed, exotic but evolved bloodthirsty women, but rich in resources that you think of a better future, radiant for them.
28-07-2016 by Freddie del Curatolo
Let me introduce myself: I am the creator and director of the portal where you came.
For those who do not know me, this could be enough.
I love Africa, Kenya and Malindi, and i owe so much to them.
But I also like to observe the oddities, the paradoxes, the unusual and grotesque sides failed "colonization" Italian in these places.
On this subject I have written four books and dozens of articles, more or less serious, appeared in magazines, newspapers and websites.
And even something you'll find here ...
Enjoy the reading!
28-11-2015 by Freddie del Curatolo
It's almost a week that Peppino Onassis is living in the populous district of Majengo.
It went well that the owner dell'Upeponi Café has taken a liking to and in exchange for three Italian shirts and a pair of shoes with leather soles, granted him a plate of beans and polenta fist for ten days.
In the evening, if you are still hungry, unable to scrounge a few potatoes from mama crouched among the tin shacks of the muddy alleys of the slum. On top of the lane less muddy, in front of a concrete hut not yet finished with a tin roof collapsing, there Dahabu, a plump and pleasant woman half Arab and half Chilosa.
Maybe the woman started to give him credit sniffing the deal by selling its unbeatable samosas and crispy bajia at double the usual price.
"Me to pay when you have them, Peppino. Sooner or later the rain Mzungu money in his pocket somewhere. "
"Meanwhile, I'll give you that. It 'a painting of the Madonna with child "
"But I'm Muslim, Peppino"
04-10-2012 by Freddie del Curatolo
Those who arrived in Malindi twenty years ago on holiday and are not yet go home
Those who are in Kenya for three days but have already learned all
Those who know how to deal with black people
Those who in Malindi you have to trust only the Italians
Those who "beware Italians who are all criminals means" and from where are you, sorry?
Those who "do not even me I steal a shilling"
Those that explain your Africa without let it get out
Those who came to Kenya to seek inside and found nothing
Those that Kenya wanted to find themselves and have found another in their place
Those who in Malindi were so off that we were not inside
What they call "geek" who instead it is integrated
Those that once this was all savanna
Those that had a lion in the garden
Those who have been bitten by a black mamba and are still alive (apparently)...
28-01-2012 by Freddie del Curatolo
I do not know if they are Ugandan or Kenyan.
They found me, I had not yet two months, the Tanzanian fishermen on a bagnarola off Kisumu.
He says that his mother was one that probably was shuttling between Kisumu, which is in Kenya and Jinja, Uganda's main port.
"Definitely not Tanzanian - they thought and said that I was the baby - because here the malaya are Ugandan or Kenyan".
After all the motherfuckers do not have citizenship, I imagine that I did not even have a mother.
Actually, the more I'm sorry for her, I might be the only boy to call her by her real name, and not to humiliate her in exchange for money.
So I grew up with them, the fishermen of Lake Victoria.
08-03-2010 by Freddie del Curatolo
Seeing a white man in Kakoneni, at eight in the morning, is not a rare but always gives a sense of the unexpected, again; Imagine the surprise of the things that materialize in an unexpected moment. This happens especially to the children who cheerfully arrange themselves on the edge of the track as for the passage of cyclists on the Tourmalet and are at one with the orange powder, the shade of the acacias and the smile of the sun.
Grandfather Kazungu instead knows that a Mzungu at that hour, on a dirt road, fifty kilometers in Malindi on the way to the Tsavo National Park, where there is near a Safari van, may belong to two categories :