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Travel Diary #3: Road trip in Madagascar

Antoine, 4 d.
For safety reasons and due to the roads/tracks conditions, we rented a 4x4 with a driver for our stay in Madagascar. What a great idea it was! You’ll understand why in a bit. Let’s start at the beginning. We stayed for two nights in central Antananarivo to discover the city and also rest a little. The city is located at an altitude of about 1,200 meters, and the streets are far from flat. After several weeks of safaris by car, our bodies were in dire need of some excercise. We explored the city on foot. And then, we hit the road. We met the rental agency manager on the morning of our departure, who informed us that the transmission in the car we were supposed to get was broken. So, we would have a car and a driver for the day, and our guide would meet us the following day. Off we went to Antsirabe. At lunchtime, to our surprise, we made a stop in a town known for... foie gras. Delicious! The next day, we met our driver, Georges. My son was having some digestive issues, thankfully, the main ingredient in all three daily Malagasy meals is rice. Georges suggested we spend the night at his aunt’s house in Miandrivazo, where we had Malagasy chicken soup for dinner. This chicken was raised outdoors, freely roaming the village streets. It was cooked in a broth with some ginger and rice. The next day, my son was completely healed. We continued driving to Morondava, a coastal town to the west, at the end of RN35. It was just a stopover before heading the next day towards Bekopaka. Unfortunately, after about an hour of driving, the car started emitting white smoke. So, we stopped and waited for a new car and driver, while Georges handled the necessary repair. The car’s turbo had broken. With our new driver, we headed towards the Kirindy Forest. Since we lost some time, it was impossible to reach Bekopaka before nightfall. That evening, we went on a guided tour of the forest to observe several species of nocturnal lemurs. The next morning, after a short tour to observe the diurnal lemurs with the same guide from the previous day, we headed to Bekopaka. The two river crossings were done by ferry. These ferries are essentially wooden motorized bridges that fit five vehicles side by side. The next day, we visited the Tsingy de Bemaraha, a UNESCO World Heritage site. These are sharp black limestone formations (due to oxidation) rising up to 700 meters high. The hike lasted about 4 hours and included parts of a via ferrata. The views were absolutely breathtaking. We then returned to Morondava, completing the 10-hour drive in one day. The following day, we reunited with Georges to continue our journey towards Belo sur Mer. We took the opportunity to go for a sailing pirogue ride. Two people navigate the pirogue: one manages the tension of the sail and paddles that serve as a rudder, while the other is at the front, handling the sail. The person at the front sits on a wooden plank connecting the pirogue to a counterweight about 10 cm wide. He seemed comfortably settled for the 3-hour journey to a small island in the turquoise waters where we had a picnic. To travel further down the west coast of Madagascar, we took a small detour inland through the town of Manja. On the dirt road, a small river crossing in the 4x4 had surprised our driver with its depth. The next day, we realized there was water in the reservoir. As we turned back, the steering axis broke. We ended up at the small restaurant we had just passed earlier. The method for getting there without a steering axis was rather amusing. While the driver was at the wheel, I walked alongside the car, manually turning the wheels of the 4x4 to steer it in the right direction. Once at the restaurant we met a driver who took us directly to the town of Ifaty. We canceled the further coastal towns to the north that required a functional 4x4. The road was asphalted, but there was no bridge yet to cross the river. The local pirogue operators took the initiative to organize a crossing service. Six pirogues, joined together by planks of branches nailed together, welcomed one car at a time. The pirogue operators, standing in the river as water level is low during the dry season, pushed the boats to the other side. A few days in Ifaty while waiting for a new car allowed us to rest a bit and go for a snorkeling trip. The corals and fish were beautiful. After this break, we got a new car and driver to take us to Isalo National Park. This park is made up of mountains in the middle of the desert, with a verdant canyon running between them. We did an 8-kilometer hike, in about 6 hours, allowing time for a swim in two waterfalls. We saw numerous species of insects and animals, including the famous ring-tailed lemurs. One particularly surprising insect we encountered was the stick insect, which is barely distinguishable from the branch of a bush. Without our guide, we would never have spotted it. The next day was a long drive to reach Ranomafana National Park, another UNESCO World Heritage site. We did another 8-kilometer hike the following day, which took us about 3.5 hours through its tropical rainforest. We only hiked in the secondary forest, as the primary forest is only accessible to the most adventurous who venture deep into the park for several days. These 3.5 hours were filled with new encounters. We observed five different species of lemurs, including the golden bamboo lemur, first identified in 1986 by primatologist Patricia Wright. At the end of the hike, we happened to meet her, accompanied by one of her students—what a coincidence! We chatted for a few minutes, and she mentioned the screening of her new documentary in the town of Ranomafana that evening. Unfortunately, we couldn’t attend as we had to head to Ambositra, about 3 hours north. After a night in Ambositra, we headed to Antsirabe. This time, we visited the surrounding area. We went to Lake Tritriva, a sacred lake for the Malagasy people. We could walk around the lake and swim in it. This lake is in the crater of a volcano and is about 140 meters deep. A legend says that Rabeniomby and Ravolahanta (the Malagasy Romeo and Juliet) committed suicide there. The next day, we returned to Antananarivo. During the long hours of driving throughout this road trip, withou our drivers and other people, we had the chance to discuss many aspects of Malagasy life including some politics. We learned a lot about the culture and also about the political life, which is far less glamorous than what is often depicted in the media. Despite hard lives and corruption, the people we met always had smiles on their faces and were never discouraged. Beyond the diverse landscapes, unique wildlife, and breathtaking flora, we had a wonderful human adventure. A long journey awaits us now for the next destination…

What If?

THEJEDI, 8 d.
The concept of work has always baffled me. That every day of a person's life, they get up and go somewhere to do something; sometimes different, sometimes repetitive. The understanding that it is ultimately towards a goal of either changing society, impacting lives and satisfying personal desires, both financially and in all other respects sometimes makes it make sense. So, what if every person belonging to some nation shared a common goal to make their country better and impact the lives of the people within that country while satisfying their personal desires that are tied to that nation. Would this be our common work? What if all Africans wherever they are in the world shared in the goal of making the continent better than it has ever been? An African living and working in the United Kingdom complained one day about how things are so bad in their home country. Then they were asked by a local that if things are so bad then why are they working in the UK instead and not in their home country. It was a casual question with no connotations of condescension, race or disgust, but a clear incomprehension of the reasoning that drove the decision to leave one's country to build another's. I have heard folks from many countries complain about their own countries. Africans complain, Europeans complain, Americans complain. The only people I have not heard complain are Asians by the way. This means that leaders are generally bad. So, what if we disregarded them anyway? The whole idea here is that each person has a lifetime. It lasts for a few years that even pass quickly before we could even catch it. Wherever you work within that time, wherever you put all of your energy, you build that place. You impact the lives of the people within that place, and you satisfy your personal desires tied to that place. If you complain about Africa while none of your life's work is in Africa, know that you are not getting satisfaction for all of your personal desires. What if you did some work in your home country today heh?

Travel Diary #2: Self drive road trip Namibie-Botswana

Antoine, 1 mon.
4 min read.
The second leg of our journey is a self-drive road trip starting from Windhoek in Namibia and ending in Maun, Botswana. For budget reasons, it was impossible to hire the services of a driver-guide for a month. Moreover, we love the adventure and freedom that this type of travel brings. We rented a 4x4 with a rooftop tent and a trunk filled with all the camping essentials: sleeping bags, dishes, propane, and even a small fridge. Upon our arrival in Windhoek, where we would only spend one night, it's striking how well-constructed and clean the city is. Paved sidewalks and no litter along the roads, unlike in Tanzania. However, there is much more begging. Here, it’s not about someone wanting to provide a service in exchange for some change, but rather an extremely insistent form of begging. The same was true in Swakopmund, on the western coast by the sea. In several towns with frequent tourist traffic, we encountered this dichotomy between cleanliness and begging. We then left civilization, heading north along the coast. We crossed the Skeleton National Park. I didn’t think a desert landscape could be so varied. Sand dunes, arid areas with some bushes, red earth sometimes tinged with purple, and occasionally the bed of a dried river with a bit of greenery and some antelopes surviving while waiting the next rainy season. Another striking aspect of this desert is the transition to the Atlantic Ocean. The shift from desert to ocean happens very abruptly, with waves crashing directly in the desert or, further north, on the few pebbles that serve as a boundary between water and land. The northern tip of the park is called Terrace Bay. The campsite where we stop is actually a very popular spot for fishermen from neighboring countries. We chatted with one of them who had come all the way from Cape Town (South Africa), having traveled 2000 km to get here with his 4x4. The next stop on our road trip is the famous Etosha National Park. It is very different from the parks we visited in Tanzania. The dirt roads are in better condition, and the park is more suited for a self-drive visit. The small waterholes (natural or artificial) attract many animals during the dry season and are well marked on the map. However, to see certain animals like cheetahs and lions resting in the shade of trees, it's best to signal other visitors to stop and exchange information. Even the guides, identifiable by their vehicles with pop-up roofs or completely open cars, are generous with advice. A simple wave will have them stop alongside you for a chat. The park is less varied in terms of landscapes compared to the Serengeti, for example, but the sight of the many species sharing the waterholes is magnificent. Once we crossed Etosha from west to east, we arrived in Rundu in northern Namibia, the second largest city after Windhoek. The owner of the campsite where we stopped told us that there is very little work, and thus most people living on the outskirts survive on what they find and trade. We went with him to see some houses in the village. They are simply areas of land marked out with wooden sticks and a few shelters, either made of metal or a wood/clay mix. For the end of the Namibian part of the road trip, we headed northeast along the Okavango River. We stopped at a fishing campsite. A little sunrise tour on the river allowed us to chat with the owner, who was very pleasant. He taught us a lot about poaching management and the damage it causes to the river's wildlife. There are almost no fish left. According to him, less than 10% of the aquatic wildlife in this river remains. After a little rest in a room at Popa Falls, we headed to Botswana and the Okavango Delta for the last two weeks of this part of our journey. Notably, the Namibia/Botswana border at this point is at the end of a long dirt road that crosses Bwabwata National Park. Before entering the Moremi Game Reserve on the east side of the delta, we spent a night at a campsite near Maun. This town is the equivalent of Arusha in Tanzania (see dedicated article). It’s the starting point for safaris. We stocked up on supplies: fuel, water, and food for the next five days. On the way to the southern entrance of the reserve, a few kilometers after leaving Maun, we realized that driving conditions would be a bit more challenging. The paved road ended, giving way to dirt and sand. We activated the 4x4 mode after just a few meters. Once in the park, conditions changed again. Unlike Etosha, there are no large, flat gravel roads. Thanks to the paper map and the maps.me app, we managed to explore the meanders at an average speed of 20 km/h for about five hours that day. This was followed by several similar days of intense driving that required sharp concentration and a keen sense of direction. The park is very wild, and the campsites are basic. We camped by the Khwai River in the north of the park. Arriving in the early afternoon for a slightly less intense driving day, we saw about twenty elephants drinking and crossing the river. We quickly lit a fire to signal our presence. What an experience! This road trip has been a crescendo of adventure. Our tourist experience in Botswana is relatively good, but not on par with the previous two countries. The cleanliness and quality of services (campsites and guesthouses) are much lower than in Namibia and Tanzania, with significantly higher prices. I don't want to minimize the beauty of the Okavango Delta; we saw stunning landscapes and all kinds of animals: kudu, zebras, elephants, giraffes, baboons, etc. Moreover, far from complaining, I feel privileged to be able to experience this adventure with my family. However, the prices are far too high. If I could do it again, I would spend a bit more time in Namibia and Tanzania for the same budget. A very beautiful leg of the journey comes to an end, but stay tuned for more adventures in a few weeks!

All are abstractions

THEJEDI, 2 mon.
Some people take a lifetime to never have been able to see the real reasons of life. Time is a trickery. All what we live for is abstractions. Take heed of time.

The Sighs of Azemmour

Aziz Daouda, 2 mon.
4 min read.
As we were heading towards Walidia, just to enjoy its beautiful lagoon, oysters and fish, my daughter, my wife, and I decided to make a short stop in Azemmour. I had promised myself I woud show my daughter the city as soon as I had the chance. We are here a stone's throw from Casablanca, a handful of kilometers from El-Jadida and not far from Jorf Lasfar, a pride of the industrialization of modern Morocco. Personally, I am rather fond of this city. Few are so captivating. I cannot explain why. There, you can be at times a berber in short Jellaba, tchamir and rounded or pointed toe slippers; sometimes a Phoenician clad in white in the style of the Greeks in their time of glory; sometimes wearing the toga of a proud Roman citizen or the blue turban of a rough Berghouata. You can daydream about the Portuguese singing their triumph at the capture of the city. You hear, the sound of your steps on an aged pavement, evoking that of the Saadian army taking possession of the city walls. The noise and vociferations of the soldiers resound there again and again; but in silence. At the turn of an alley of the ancient city, you hear the distant and confused voice of Sidi Abderahman El Mejdoub, wailing his pain in front of evil, questioning the world and the universe. At the turn of a street, you are greeted by the whispering voice, barely audible, of Rabbi Abraham Moul Ness and his prayers at the rising of the sun and its setting Sidi Brahim for Muslims. Religions struggle to find boundaries here... Moreover, it is a sort of miracle that revealed to the two communities that Abraham was indeed a saint. The citizens had just installed a mill right in front of the cave where he spent his time meditating and praying. The animals that powered the mill quickly fell ill and died one after the other. It was then understood that Abraham did not want to be disturbed in his meditation. Since then, he is Rabbi Abraham for the Jews, Sidi Brahim for the Muslims, holy for both. Farther inside the city, you can see rather silent young people, looking sullen, crestfallen, who face you at the turn of a lane. Some of those who walk by you look haggard, as though they expressed weariness or disgust; perhaps even deep anger and repeated hurt. At the corner of neighbouring street, on a small shapeless square, it is the jerky sound of a loom that catches your ear. One of the last Deraz still in activity weaves silken or woolen scarves. Tourists like them but do not come often... He works, he loves his job and keeps doing it, waiting for better days to come; or at least hoping that the war in the Middle East stops. Deep down, he must wish that his Israeli friends return to reason and quickly drive out their current leaders; neurotics thirsty for blood more than other thing. He is waiting for the Moussem but does not know if the Jewish Moroccans who return annually for the pilgrimage will still be numerous. The Arts and Crafts House is silent and expectant too. It spends long spells of time waiting that a small group would pass by to finally enliven it for an hour or so. The master craftsmen who stay there seem to contemplate the passage of time. Their eyes are nostalgic for a recent past certainly idealized, and a more distant past loaded with wealth and power, forever gone. A lady of a certain age, without any discomfort, dressed in battered pajamas, is there in front of her home, sitting on an stool. The blue door of her modest house, is wide open. The lady is a bit too large for her stool. Her gaze is blank. She does not notice our silhouettes and seems not to hear our involuntarily light steps, as if not to disturb the history or stir the anger of abandoned walls, houses with walled doors, those that time has knocked down and those that passively wait for the signal of the tumbling of tired stones that no longer have anything to hold onto. Behind the heavy doors of ancient buildings - and there are still many thank God - and some houses not yet walled up or fallen into oblivion of time and humans, we can guess the presence of young girls busying themselves with embroidery. Few are those who still have a passion for this ancestral art specific to the city with its bright colours and dragons. What are dragons doing here, if not recall a past so distant that it fades into the background of history. Some say that it is a Portuguese merchant who introduced this art behind the walls of the city. At the corner of a small square, as there are many in the city, in front of a small and neglected grocery store, stand idle young men. One of them must look like Mustapha Azemmouri, also called Esteban the Moor or Estevanico. He may even carry his genes. Without Estevanico, North America would never have been what it is now. What a destiny. To leave one country and travel so far, and change the course of history on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. Walking out through one of the gates of the ancient city, one only has one thought: Azemmour is looking for a present that does not come. It is dying and dying. Maybe it is already dead. Some time ago, Karim Boukhari wrote in an article « I have visited Azemmour. A friend, from the city, warned me: Watch out, he said, it is a dead city. » Go and walk the promenade around the city walls. An esplanade that my friend Zaki Semlali has laid out with the little he had to revive this special relationship that the city has with river Oum Rebi3. Today, plastic is unfortunately more abundant than fish. Gone are the shad and the beautiful, fleshy ambrines. Some sections of the wall and houses collapse and flow towards the oued like tears of agony. The nostalgic Azemmour peeks at the Atlantic Ocean and watches, helplessly, the waves smashing in the distance. I pray the Almighty that this piece of our precious history can finally benefit from the attention of our rulers. My daughter, my wife, and I left the place sad, wounded in the depths of our souls; but the sublime voice of Sanaa Marahati singing some poems written somewhere in the city makes us hope for a better future for Azemmour.
youtu.be/T4BIRCsXQWs?si=KmRqI3mq...

To be a good Father !

Reogine, 2 mon.
1 min read.
To be a good Father! That's the biggest achievement, that I'll ever achieve in life. I dream of that moment of holding my child to my chest and starting to recite the Adhan. in his or her little soft ear. Whispering as if exporting a part of my soul into it. But to be a good father is difficult. I see it as going through stages to achieve a well-respected position, you should start by being a good servant to Allah. then you start to learn how to be a good son, After that if you are blessed enough you'll learn to be a good brother and a good relative that was an easy one for me. Passing to be a good part of the population, a good man. For some, this one had no mercy and they got trampled by it. I know a lot who couldn't survive this stage. What an agony to see yourself helping in this destruction whether you meant it or not. I always feel sorry for those whom I made life harder. Yet it's better than feeling sorry about myself. this stage gets you ready to be a good husband. You make all the effort. that you had learned to put in everyone and devote it to one person. whether he or she deserves it or not but there's no way for you to know, Until you know. perhaps you would never know. these thoughts as much as they delight me, they whisper a diving fear. in my soul, fear of Allah ... the prayers that I missed the lies that. I've told, seeking pleasure. the natural pleasure always makes me laugh. Its relation with pain makes me acknowledge why some of the most pleasurable things in life are classified as Haram ...

Jamal Berraoui has gone... to his resting place and the earth trembled.

Aziz Daouda, 3 mon.
Si Jamal Berraoui, you are no longer with us in this world, and country that you loved so much and for which you fought all your life. You fought for justice, progress, fairness, dignity and so many other values to which you gave your own meaning. Sometimes a philosopher, sometimes a philanthropist, you navigated between common sense and loyalty to an ideology that seized you at a young age but which you managed to tame in your own way. Your loyalty to your party did not blind you, and your selflessness gave you freedom of tone and time. You managed to tame time. Sometimes a writer, sometimes a columnist, sometimes a journalist, but never silent. Disappointment, discouragement and nihilism never got the better of you. Life was hard for you, but you loved it with tenderness. You were a renowned journalist and an outstanding political analyst. Your significant contributions to Moroccan journalism and your incisive analyses of the country's political, economic, social and sporting issues made you an influential voice on behalf of the silent majority. Your critical and informed perspective on current events has been passed on to everyone in an ‘Ach Waqe3’ that you have shaped in your own way. In this way, you brought politics back to its rightful place, within everyone's reach. In your own darija, you gave many people a taste for debate, a willingness to think and a desire to participate in politics. On your own, you did more than all the parties put together, more than all the media, more than all of us. Your weekly appearances on the Décryptage programme, every Sunday morning in the studios, from your hospital bed or simply from your home by telephone, were key moments, sublime moments of intelligence and humanism. I'll confide in you, my dear: even though I won't be seeing you again because God has decided it's best, How proud I was each time you quoted my name, one of my words or one of my positions! Sidi Jamal, how many journalists have you educated and trained? How many citizens have you made happy with your words? In your own safiote way, you have contributed to the evolution of the Moroccan media landscape. Your public appearances have always been closely followed, tackling complex subjects with simplicity, clarity and rigor. The large audience that Moroccans have reserved for you speaks volumes is telling more about the great respect they have for you among your peers. They saw themselves in you. You have always defended press freedom and your desire to see independent and rigorous journalism develop. You made a major contribution to ‘tamaghrabiyt’ in your own way, subtly referring to your hometown, your neighborhood in Casablanca, your neighbors, music, history, , the Raja, everything that links us to our rich culture, our largely ignored or despoiled history, our roots, our continent and the world. Rest in peace, my friend, after so many years of winning battles, of self-sacrifice and courage. You have finally beaten the disease. Your doctors, your family, your friends, your readers and listeners know it very well. It wasn't the disease that finally got you, it was you who decided to put an end to the disease and to your mission. I know you let out a long sigh and a charming little smile as you left us, because it's in your nature to always smile. In the end you decided to rest. We miss you already, Sidi Jamal. Si Abdelaziz Erromani will never again have to ask at the start of a show ‘Qi Bqat Shiha Si Jamal? No more of the ‘ana matafeqch m3a si Hadad’ that punctuated your contributions to Décryptage from time to time. Mission accomplished! You were a real treasure. And what a coincidence, even the earth shook that day... (On this sad occasion, let's listen to the song linked below, which I'm sure will please Si Jamal)
youtu.be/fbH7VJz2F2o?si=9MErGVWO...

Finding the Middle Ground

Anas Bedraoui, 3 mon.
Comparing ourselves to others often leads to frustration and disappointment. Picture this: you're scrolling through social media, and you see an old friend from high school posing in front of their brand-new sports car, while you're still driving a car that predates the invention of the smartphone. You start to wonder where you went wrong. Did you choose the wrong career? Should you have invested in Bitcoin instead of student loans? These thoughts spiral until you're convinced that your only way out of this rut is to fake your own death and start a new life as a reclusive writer in a cabin somewhere deep in the woods. In reality, comparing yourself to others is like playing a game where the rules are rigged from the start. Everyone is on a different journey, with varying challenges, opportunities, and, let's be honest, different levels of Photoshop skills. We tend to compare our behind-the-scenes mess with someone else's highlight reel, forgetting that their life probably includes the same boring Tuesday afternoons and Netflix binges as ours. Yet, this habit of comparison can warp our sense of reality, making us feel perpetually "less than" others and chipping away at our self-esteem until we're left contemplating the logistics of that cabin in the woods. ---- But let's flip the script. What happens when we avoid comparison altogether? Imagine you decide that you're going to be your only measure of success. No one else matters. You wake up each morning, look in the mirror, and say, "I'm the best thing that's ever happened to humanity since sliced bread." At first, this mindset feels empowering. You walk around with the confidence of a motivational speaker who's just sold out a stadium. But soon, things take a turn. You start to dismiss others' achievements because, clearly, no one can hold a candle to your brilliance. You become that person who interrupts every conversation to talk about your latest accomplishment, even if the conversation is about someone's grandma's funeral. ---- This path leads to an inflated ego, where your sense of self-worth balloons like a cheap helium balloon at a child's birthday party—ready to burst at the slightest pinprick of criticism. Narcissism, at its core, is a personality trait characterized by an inflated sense of self-importance, a need for excessive admiration, and a lack of empathy for others. When we avoid any comparison, we risk sliding into this mindset, seeing ourselves as above others, and losing the ability to connect with those around us. This self-centered view can damage relationships, create isolation, and ultimately leave us empty, as we become more invested in maintaining an image than in nurturing genuine connections. Ego and narcissism aren’t just about an inflated self-image; they can also manifest as defensiveness and an inability to accept criticism. Imagine someone pointing out a flaw in your work. Instead of seeing it as an opportunity for growth, you might react like a celebrity whose latte order was just messed up—indignant and defensive. This behavior alienates others and stunts personal growth, as the ego becomes a barrier to learning and improvement. Balancing these extremes requires a conscious effort. Instead of using comparison as a yardstick to measure our worth, we can use it as a tool for motivation and inspiration. Picture yourself as a runner in a marathon. Instead of focusing on how far ahead the others are, you focus on your own pace, using the leading runners as guides to improve your speed. Along the way, you celebrate every milestone you reach, even if it's just passing the water station without tripping over your own feet. Practicing humility and staying open to feedback keeps that ego in check. Recognizing that everyone is a work in progress allows us to approach criticism not as a threat but as a chance to learn and grow. This mindset keeps you grounded and prevents that balloon from getting too full of hot air. Humility also fosters empathy, enabling us to connect with others more meaningfully, appreciating their successes without feeling threatened. Comparison is a natural part of being human, but it's essential to approach it with a sense of humor and perspective. Letting it dominate our thoughts leads to frustration, while avoiding it entirely risks fostering narcissism. Finding the middle ground allows for personal growth, rooted in a realistic understanding of ourselves, balanced with empathy and self-awareness. What do you think? Do you find yourself comparing your life to others, and if so, how does it affect you? How do you keep your ego in check while staying motivated to grow? What strategies do you use to find a healthy balance between self-reflection and self-confidence?

A threat we are not prepared to face

Aouani Khalil, 4 mon.
Read time: 4-5mins In 2021 as I was finishing my Bachelor's degree, I wrote this article after the overnight shutdown of the Facebook servers - After the global outage caused by Crowdstrike and Microsoft, I decided to share it again. Article below: Have you ever asked yourself what would happen if the internet shuts down ? On the 4th of October 2021, Facebook servers shut down causing the Whatsapp and Instagram Apps also to not work. So let’s ask ourselves a question : Were we prepared for that ? Well yes, people were still using platforms like Telegram, Signal and mail for texting, others were using Twitter and TikTok for scrolling etc… But if the internet suddenly stops working, what would happen to the financial markets such as real estate, stocks, cryptocurrencies ? Let us look for a way to be prepared for it. The carrington event: In 1859 mankind witnessed the Carrington event, named after the scientist Richard Carrington, this phenomenon is also known as a geomagnetic storm. On a calm afternoon of September, Carrington witnessed a sudden flash of increased brightness on the surface of the Sun that lasted for a few minutes while watching the observable Universe with his telescope. At that time we didn’t know what this light was but today we know that it is a solar flare. The same night a few hours later, we noticed green and blue lights travelling across the skies which are today known as the Aurora Borealis. At that time of course, people were very shocked and the solar flare caused the whole telegraph system to shut down but there was no internet or satelites so life moved on as if nothing happened. So what would happen if a Carrington event of that caliber strikes us today, specifically to financial markets ? We are for almost two years now, the victims of the COVID-19 pandemic and we were absolutely not prepared for it even if scientists kept warning us. For weeks we did not know what we were facing and globally, most of the businesses stopped working and are still recovering from it today. Now if a virus of 100 nanometers of diameter can cause us to stay at home for 1 year, what would be the impact of a solar storm ? Risks we face in front of a Solar Flare: Relax, we people do not risk anything violent or apocalyptic because the earth amosphere will shield us from x-rays, gamma rays and cosmic radiations but our society and our routine will be affected. How is that ? In former times, messages, money transfers or even news took days, sometimes months to get to destination, people would even do the delivery as a job. Today you can be in Tokyo and still facetime a friend who is in Europe or Brasil, you can send mails and get immediate answers, buy stocks from the NYSE even if you are in Africa etc… but all of this is not really wireless. In fact the 380 underwater cables that are spanning a lenght of over 1.2 million kms connect all the continents and are the reason we can do all we do today, alongside the 6542 satelites orbiting the planet at the moment. These cables are not really affected by geomagnetic currents but due to their lenght we had to install repeaters along certain gaps and those repeaters are susceptible to fail and if they do, an entire cable that connects two continents, instantly disconnects them. What if the power grid is down ? Let’s imagine the worst case scenario where our power grid gets knocked, that could cause a wolrdwide blackout, but not only because our satelites will also be disabled, which means we will not be able to buy stocks or crypto anymore but that is not our biggest concern since we won’t be able to place phone calls, we will not be able to know what is happening since google or the TV are not functionning anymore, we will also not be able to charge our electronic devices which means no more zoom meetings ; navigation systems would break which means no more airplanes and last but not least places that accept credit cards will not be able to take payments. Unfortunately it gets worse, our health would also be affected since all of the material in hospitals are electronic so hospitals won’t be able to work normally. This is without mentionning the unability to maintain the stock of food because how can you do that without refrigirating systems, also that means no more ice cream. To sum up, this would cause a global mess followed by a movement of panic. In that scenario, lots of markets would collapse but curiously markets like the real estate or the stock market would not because we would simply do it the old way, a piece of paper and a pen and you are good to go, it would be a lot slower, but it would survive. Most of us would also have to go back to the unfashionned way : barter. And since neither banks or financial instruments would be available, the people who have been saving a heavy load of cash or simply people that bought gold would be saved. What an irony, the most powerful tool we created is the internet, because there is no off switch that could turn off the whole thing, but here is the off switch right in front of our eyes sitting at a few million kilometers : a hot ball of glowing gasses at the heart of our solar system. Real estate in the 19th century : The probability of happening of a Carrington event According to the PNAS, Proceedings of the National Academy of Science of the US, the probability of a Carrington event happening is once every 150 years, and we are not sheltered from it. In 2012 there was an unusual and strong solar superstorm that luckily got dodged by 9 days. In fact when the storm passed, our planet was 9 days behind in the rotation cycle from the path of the storm. The famous boxer Mike Tyson once said « everyone has a strategy, until they get kicked in the mouth ». So let us not give up what we need most for what we want now and unlike the COVID-19 pandemic, be prepared. The potential that would cost us a Carrington event financially is not shy of 2 Trillion USD, which represents 2.5% of world’s GDP. Of course it will only be a matter of time before the competent authorities fix the problem, which could be a week or a month, and life in the 21st century will go back to its fullest. Aouani Khalil
heconomist.ch/2021/10/19/a-threa...

Why you should eat your weeds

Brad Ovitt, 5 mon.
2 min read.
I went outside for a walk today with a tupperware bin and looked for medicinal plants. I quickly found Indian paintbrush (also useful for making dye), wild daisy, woodland strawberry, and purple hyssop. According to traditional medicine: Indian paintbrush is applied topically as a poultice to alleviate rheumatism and arthritis. Leaves and flowers are made into a tea to regulate menstrual cycles, alleviate menstrual cramps, and address other reproductive health issues. It can also be applied as a poultice to provide localized relief. Tea of the leaves and flowers can also be used to treat indigestion, bloating, used as a digestive stimulant, used to treat coughs and bronchitis by clearing the respiratory tract, and can also be used as a hair treatment. Wild daisy has natural anti-septic and anti-inflammatory properties that can be used to treat wounds. The tea is known to treat coughs, bronchitis, aid digestion, soothe skin conditions like eczema when applied topically, and provide mild pain relief. Woodland strawberry leaves can be made into a strong infusion and used as a mouthwash to treat gum disease and promote oral hygiene. Fresh leaves and juice can be applied to the skin to treat acne, eczema, and other skin conditions. Leaves applied to wounds are anti-septic. Purple hyssop is considered a general tonic to improve overall health. Tea made of dried leaves and flowers acts as an expectorant to clear mucus and ease breathing, promotes better sleep, reduces anxiety and stress, reduces inflammation, and promotes a healthy gastrointestinal tract. It can also be made into a tincture. An economist will tell you that the government inflation target, usually about 2%, is used to encourage people to spend money and increase the flow rate of capital. Now, after decades, the medicinal methods we knew for our environment have been forgotten in exchange for processed nature wrapped in cheap industrial byproducts (supplements), quite possibly because the economic policy is designed to wrap every bit of value in an industrial profit-driven process, despite nature providing a healthier and more fulfilling way of life. And our leaders have the gall to tell us that they need a deficit to address the climate crisis. Just yesterday, my grandpa was showing me his plan to burn down the beaver damn to lower the water level so I can collect the yellow lotus roots below the waterline. Roots and leaves of lotus can be made into a tea to treat fever, diarrhea, promote liver and spleen function, and improve reproductive function. While I was down by the damn, I noticed tinder conk (a fungus) growing a dead tree, which can be dried and ground into a powder to promote healing and stop bleeding for wounds, treat gastrointestinal issues, treat inflammation, urinary tract infections, coughs, bronchitis, and asthma. Behind my house there is a birch tree with chaga growing on it. Chaga boosts the immune system, reduces inflammation, acts as a nootropic, helps with conditions like gastritis, supports liver function, helps with symptoms of old age, and can be added to grease to treat psoriasis and eczema, or it can be bathed in for whole body support. It also makes a great base for a tea or soup. Birch leaves and sap can be used to treat skin conditions and is used in hair care. Tea, sap, and bark can be used to treat digestive conditions, urinary tract infections, kidney stones, and edema. Birch leaves and bark can be used to treat fever, arthritis, rheumatism, infections, bronchitis, and cough. Everyone should learn the natural medicine around them. Disclaimer: this is not medical advice.

The West Misunderstands Putin

Brad Ovitt, 6 mon.
Putin can't go to war with NATO (the West is right on that point), but he's not being given an option. Western forces are ramping up the support for Ukraine as progress stalls and Russian forces see significant gains. Putin's perspective is that he is already at war with NATO because he's fighting Western arms from Western funds. The West sees it as a question of Ukrainian sovereignty. Ukraine is independent, it should be able to defend itself, even against the threat of a nuclear weapon. Western leaders have blocked all communication channels for a ceasefire under the naive assumption that Ukraine can win back all the territory and everything will be merry. Putin now is threatening to launch a nuclear bomb in Ukraine. Putin thinks he's at war with NATO, a war he can only win with nuclear weapons. The Russian army vs NATO with sanctions would smoke Russia's forces 99 out of 100 days unless there are nuclear weapons. Nukes are the only defense Russia has against a major conflict with NATO. Remember, Putin went into the war telling his people that Ukraine was becoming too friendly to the West and needed to be stopped from joining NATO. He can't go back to his people and say we lost, Ukraine got all their territory back, and they're going to join NATO. It's a Western fantasy. He will drop a nuke first. He is pleading to the West to take his warnings seriously, but Western leaders think he's bluffing. He is being given no choice but to demonstrate that Russia is a force that needs to be respected. His only way to do that is to drop a nuke. The Russian people don't take kindly to being embarassed on an international stage. Neither did the Germans before WW2. It's why Russians care so much about winning at the Olympics, or having the best chess players. The Russian mentality is suicidal. They still love Stalin after he killed 20 million of his own people because Stalin made the Russian people seem formidable. The Russians will die before they look like cowards. That's why Putin's only choice is to win territory in Ukraine or drop a nuke. I think WW3 is about to begin. According to Russian newspapers, Putin does too.

A Solemn Recognition of The World

Brad Ovitt, 6 mon.
4 min read.
The entire world is one industrial-social complex. Let's face it, we're slaves. A slave is someone who must serve another for an adulterated form of life, liberty, and property. Every single person who lives in modern society is by some extension in service of another for their needs. Tracing back the development of our condition is a history of mass servitude to a ruling class. In preindustrial civilization, a large portion of the population was categorized as a classical slave. Moving up the class hierarchy, people were given a greater degree of independence to influence the world around them and their social standing, but to that measure served the same institution as the slave. In the postindustrial world, the most productive economies consist of an educated and independent populace. Eventually, it became feasible to envision civilization controlled by the people, legitimate only by social contract. It was believed that such a civilization would be resistant to the contamination of slavery. But, to be afforded even the most basic dignities of life, we must still be in service to the needs of the enslaving apparatus. If you own land, you must pay property taxes to the government you serve to further encroach upon you. If you do not own land, you must work to make money to pay for a place to live and pay the government again. If you do not, you are homeless, which is illegal. If you break the law, you are put in prison, which is an even more hellish form of classical slavery. The only difference is that the modern enslaving apparatus benefits more from an educated and economically mobile population than it does from a form of classical slavery. You're free to be mobile, but the enslaving apparatus quickly colonized the entire planet so you can't leave. We've confused classical slavery as the only kind of slavery. If you feel free as you are, it is only by coincidence, and if you try to exit the enslaving apparatus, your only is choice is to hide from it in the most remote stretches of the planet. We no longer have the right to total self-reliance, which was once taken for granted. **TRAJECTORY OF THE MODEST SOUL** Consider the trajectory of the modest soul. The modest soul will listen to their parents, their teachers, and all those adults who have their true interests at heart. They will pursue higher-education, perhaps the study of STEM or Liberal Arts. It is here we find unexpected tragedy. The modest soul will find themselves in debt, indoctrinated by a ridiculous education system that's destroying an entire generation, and become a productive member of a society that poisons it's population, censors ideas, and is fundamentally evil and subjugating in a host of ways. It wasn't always like this, and perhaps was acceptable, that is until recently. What's next? The modest soul gets married, that is if they can in a dating pool full of disappointment and the sheltered expectations of a bygone era. They have children, but most marriages end in less than a decade. They've reached their 30s, are divorced, and their body is fading because they were taught that an average and unhealthy lifestyle is acceptable, as well as due to unnatural difficulty determining which food actually is healthy. They put their kids who already don't respect them into the education system where they'll be taught the most ridiculous ideas about how to behave and be a decent person. Maybe their kids will dye their hair, or dress ridiculously, or self-harm, all because of psychological phenomena caused by a corrosive civilization. At this point the modest soul will be in a dire situation that they were never equipped to handle. By the time they're in their 40s, they'll have accepted they're expired well past their physical prime and their life has been a history of disappointment and failure, with the occasional modest and inconsequential victory. For their masters, they will have generated millions of dollars, for which they still find themselves financially dependent, pay-check to pay-check. Will they ever retire? Maybe, but modestly at best. They will lack the respect of their family, they will look back on their life without confidence, and live for trivialities. Due to their poor health standards, they live a life with chronic illness and struggle to afford the medication they need, which also comes with negative side-effects. When they die, their family will be burdened by the obligation of a funeral. Lives such lived are a hallmark of our civilization. The inability for the average person to attain even a moderate well-being has a devastating impact on the society we call ours. Yet, it isn't ours, it's *their's*, because we have built a system in which we are slaves to each other. In places once free, people were healthy and served only their community. Their contribution was solely voluntary. People attained a natural level of satisfaction far greater than is commonplace today. While their trials were greater, they were prepared to succeed and found a greater respect for themselves and love amongst their kin. Today, communities are fractured and hierarchically organized to exploit each other in an industrial-social complex, encouraging disintegrity through lateral relationships. **INDUSTRIAL-SOCIAL COMPLEX** After the COVID vaccines first came out, I asked my Biology teacher if they were safe. She told me they're the safest vaccines ever made because of the mRNA platform. According to the CDC's *COVID-19 Vaccination and Non–COVID-19 Mortality Risk*, "this report describes lower non-COVID-19 death rates among COVID-19 vaccinated people." They say the vaccines make you healthier. They say everyone over 12 years old should get vaccinated. But, the CDC says the vaccines are entirely safe? They aren't, it's propaganda. We've been mislead, censored, and poisoned, a consequence of the industrial social complex. According to a military study I can't find anymore, pulmonary embolisms are up as much as 900% in the vaccinated population. In certain age groups, all-cause mortality is up as high as 40%. How do you make money in pharmaceuticals? Increase the rate of chronic illness, which has been happening rapidly since the late 80s. Leaked emails show Fauci conspiring with top officials to avoid their conversations being accessible through the freedom of information act. They poisoned us. When I was in student government we were working on a vaccine rally to get people vaccinated. I'd read reports about heart issues caused by the vaccine and raised the issue that we should at least inform people of the potential side-effects. In a vote that was 57-3, they voted to deliberately mislead the public and say the vaccine was entirely safe. I'm running out of space here, but my point is that these things don't make sense unless people have hidden agendas they aren't accountable for.

Got My First Project and Immediately Stumbled over a Pebble (a Little Story of My Personal Experience)

SilverSworntoWrite, 6 mon.
2 min read.
A few days ago I received an update about my application for an online project. It was midnight, and I was in my bed when I decided to check my Email to see if there is any new mail stuck in the spam box. Unexpectedly, there were two mails from a hiring company stated that they approved my application and asked me to follow a training course. I supposedly had to be excited because not only it was the first time I got into a project, but also the first time I applied for something and I actually passed. Imagine that you have been struggling to find a job for months and then one day you received a notification that you are now a part of the (temporary) team. Instead, I was worried because the Email was sent a day ago and I lost it when I could not access the course. "Have they removed me because I was late?" I thought whilst holding back my tantrum. In a heavy heart, I submitted into failure as I prepared to dive into slumber. In my closed eyes, I began to fall in denial that I was busy perfecting my portfolio (that was the truth anyway, and that was frustrating because my laptop kept lagging) and caused me to miss the mails. Five minutes, ten minutes, nothing happened. I could not sleep. The thought of my incompetence filled my head. Even my eyes were in searing pain, my heart danced in restless rythm. Surrendering, I opened my eyes and my laptop for once again. This time, I went to see my most trusted companion that always stands by the line, ChatGPT. Why would I decide to chat with an AI? Well, AI does not have feelings. Therefore, I do not need to feel bad to rant to it. Moreover, it gives me suggestions which is more useful than mere sympathy. And Gepetto (the name I assign to it) gave me a suggestion if I could find a contact to the company and send a message, asking if they would reconsider to accept me back. I thought it sounded like a beg, but it would be better to try than to completely gave up without a fight. Then a few days later, one of my messages reached someone, who then informed me about where to ask for help. Long story short, I finally reached out to the support team. And with a little nudge from them (and the fact that I had already calmed down), I finally able to proceed with the project. Turned out they had never removed me. It was indeed just my incompetence that makes every minor problem becomes a big deal. Although I must admit that the adrenaline was real. My regrets, my impulsing bloodstreams, it all brought down in one night. Now that everything is under control, I have to say my greatest gratitude to whoever person or team who had decided to help me at the first time. It might be just a small act, but with their help, I could get out from the situation, in which was a big matter to me. Wherever they are, I hope they have a great life. Why would I share such story? I have no idea. I thought it could inspire somebody out there that your decision to help someone, no matter how small you may think it is, means greatly to them (and it might be a lesson to me too, that I have to be more attentive.) Thank you for reading.

Read This Blog and You Will Become an AUTHOR

Anas Bedraoui, 7 mon.
Writing consistently is a simple action with profound impact. I discovered its transformative power firsthand, reshaping how I understand myself and the world around me. In this blog, I share how regular writing can change your life, as it did mine. Gaining Clarity Writing has always been part of my life, but committing to it daily unveiled its true potential. Amidst daily clutter and responsibilities, writing offered me clarity. Each word helped sift through the chaos of thoughts, allowing me to focus and prioritize. It was less about recording thoughts and more about understanding and organizing them. Building Confidence and Expertise With every piece I wrote, I found and refined my voice. My early writings were far from perfect, and that was okay. Each sentence and paragraph built my confidence. Writing about subjects I was passionate about, especially snake venom, not only allowed me to share knowledge but also deepened my own understanding. This cycle of learning and sharing became a cornerstone of my academic and professional growth. Therapeutic Benefits Long before I recognized its need, writing was my therapy. It offered a non-judgmental space to express vulnerabilities. Writing about daily challenges at university or personal concerns made these burdens lighter. It rendered fears and stresses tangible, making them easier to manage. This emotional outlet was vital for my mental well-being during the demanding years of my PhD. Inspiring Others As my writing skills improved, my audience grew. Through Bluwr, I connected with enthusiasts keen on understanding complex venom and AI topics. The positive feedback was incredibly rewarding, affirming that my words could make difficult concepts clearer for others. Becoming an author is more about the routine of writing than publishing a book. Regular writing practice can change you—not just in communication, but in perception and interaction with the world. If you're considering starting, this is your sign. Write a little every day, about anything that inspires you, here on Bluwr. Over time, you might discover that the author you aimed to be is simply who you've become through writing.