Khoa Học Phong Thuỷ Trong Cuộc Sống tải về miễn phí cuốn sách

Patricio Sanhueza roomart — قصة مؤلمة وحزينة عن مرض ألزهايمر لكنها مبدعة من الدكتور غازي.

Mauro Sodano maurosodano — For my money, Ryszard Kapuscinski should be better-known than he is, despite a difficult-to-pronounce name -- he's one of the most outstanding journalists of the 20th century. As the Polish Press Agency's only reporter in Africa, he has covered just about every coup, revolution, civil war, and natural disaster there since 1957 (and also found time to cover conflicts in various other parts of the world as well). There's an important difference between Kapuscinski and reporters from Western democracies -- unlike them, he has no money. So whereas the other reporters stay at the Hilton and buy or hire Landrovers or planes when they want to go somewhere, Kapuscinski stays in cockroach- and mosquito-infested hovels, catches malaria and TB, and cadges lifts on lorries or private planes. This gets him into some perilous situations (I am constantly amazed by the insouciant way he shrugs off his numerous brushes with death) and it also obviously gives him a different perspective on Africa. He has a gift for engaging with people, and this book is full of encounters with ordinary Africans who would normally just figure as a backdrop to reports on war, famine, or whatever. To him, they are not a homogeneous, starving and desperate mass, but individuals doing their best to get on with their everyday lives in virtually impossible conditions. At one point, he rents an insalubrious room in the "native quarter" of Lagos, despite dire warnings from other westerners of what will happen to him. Their opinions only diverge on one point: whether he will be murdered, or simply die from the effects of the unhygienic conditions. Undaunted, Ryszard carries on anyway. All is well, except that his room is regularly burgled whenever he is absent for a few days. At first, he is enraged. But then a Nigerian, Suleiman, explains to him that in fact the thefts are a gesture of acceptance: they are a way of telling him he is useful to the locals. He will be quite safe so long as he doesn't attempt to find the culprits and punish them. A week later, Suleiman returns with a bunch of white cock feathers and hangs them over the door. The burglaries stop. The book is full of little vignettes like this (another memorable one is the moment when, sitting on a rock in the desert smoking, he realises he is about to stub out his cigarette on the head of a deadly viper which will bite him if he moves). He's written elsewhere about the horrors of civil war (see notably his earlier book The Soccer War, the title of which refers to a war that broke out between Honduras and El Salvador over a football match). While this book does include eyewitness accounts of coups, it's mostly a vivid, kaleidoscopic view of Africa's multiple landscapes and cultures, mingling personal histories, with brief, effective expositions of history and politics. Despite the grimness of many of the scenes he paints, and the apparent hopelessness of the political and economic situation in every country he visits, the book is genuinely entertaining, and he ends it on a note of hope: a Tanzanian tells him, "The spirit of Africa always takes the form of an elephant, because an elephant cannot be defeated by any other animal -- not the lion, nor the buffalo, nor the snake." Kapuscinski breaks through the stereotyped view of Africa as a continent of famine, corruption, and conflict, and shows you its hidden riches. This is apparently the first volume of a projected trilogy which will cover Africa, Latin America, and Asia -- I can hardly wait for the rest. If you haven't discovered Kapuscinski yet, you should.