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Logas..An
african black teacher in the last days
of his life..He was exactly 55 years, 2 days,
and 2 months when entered the hospital in the
Camirooni capital (Angawanderi) at midnight in
the month of June. His wife and two kids left
Camiroon and left him too, many years ago, on
a boat sailing to the promised land of "Liberty"
(El Unidos Etatos) or as clearly we know it..
The United States..And he had been left alone
in Camiroon where he belongs, and loves to
exist. (Logas) did and enjoyed all what you can
expect of an african lonely teacher..Drinking
litres of tea in the morning..Going to the small
school, teaching the small, sick, african kids
with their wide black sad eyes, and their desire
for a better living and what they really deserve..
He considered every one of them as a kid of his.
There was (Molga) the always-pale-faced child..
There was (Jitadeb) with the torn ear..And there
were alot of children, with them he had alot of
memories...He came back from school in the evening.
He used to sleep and wake up in the middle of
the night, to write and read and think of how
those kids hang upon the trees, a mystery of
mysteries..(Logas) entered the hospital infected
with the A.I.D.S. and he is one of the very
few people who got infected by this virus through
blood transfusion, not sexual trauma..
Stare in his big black eyes, look to his torn
skin, and to his tired legs, and eaten thunbs,
and curse with me this world, that left (Logas)
and millions like him suffering because of the
expensive prices of medicine, and the companies
that used these people as lab-mice..Just because
these people are silent..They cry silently..
They live silently..They suffer silently..and
they die silently..(Logas) spent his last nights
reading, and when there's no new book available,
He used to stay thinking, never closing his
eyes..He remembered the old days in his town
in (Adamao), he remembered his boyhood, and the
beautiful girl, the abnus queen (Hattima)..
He remembered his best friend (Kolmoa) and how
he had died in the inedepedence war of Camiroon
in the 1960s...He remembered his mother, dooding
him, and playing in his face, He remembred her
lovely black skin, and her tender voice, singing
to him in the language of their tribe..
He dreamt of a new Africa...A new africa with
no wars, no illness, and no problems and no
foreign interference...He saw black people living
in peace and harmony, in new civilized cities..
He saw african kids going to big school, graduating
to university and working, not holding guns,
and ganging in the streets to kill and be
killed...At 2.44 AM after the middle of the night,
(Ferdinand Logas) closed his wide black honest
eyes for the last time...Physically, left a
black african slim body, but fantasically left
a thousand dream in a thousand african kid, to
grow and to begin.. a new beginning..
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