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Dear Future Me

Dear future me: I hope that I do not have to read this because you have forgotten the time you spend in Africa. We both know that you have never slept so litter or been so exhausted; and and I am sure that neither of us has celebrated as if we had gotten into the World Cup Finals like the night we ate meat. No, even with everything recently and the eyes of love with which we saw Zambia, we both know that it was hard, the more we changed something in their life, they changed ours. And that although we were empty, we started to feel guilty for all that we take or steal from others. Do you remember? She said that it was her way of seeing. Liar, no one sees the soul without premeditation and treachery.

I do not trust you. I know that you will get lost in the routine in Madrid and return to placing importance on superficial feeling and things. I write to you now because of this. Remember Kasiya. Think of the children that never had seen a Mzungu and you arrived, with a ball and two ropes and they looked at you as if you were Superman. And they did not realize that they were the superheroes. I urge you to remember Linah, the lion captain, heart of a lion, with a broken voice that was able to order a herd of lions, to save you from a mess, and save your ass during the performance on the last day. Remember that your words and stories are important, the you gave such a hard time that the lions hunted and in the morning caught a duck and brought it to you like a trophy.

Forget the self-pity and lick the wounds, remembering the drama that happened and the more the more the one or two that live for two months on what it cost to put gas in your car this morning. If your job bores you, remember what it was like to have eleven brothers and live out an adventure every morning in the van from hell. Be clear that you only have one day to be the happiest in your life, but that the rest can be very close. Please, never think that something is impossible because you, who has not camped in your life slept under more stars than you could count, and if some time you ever sleep alone, remember those nights that you slept with seven or more and a couple of crickets. When you read this, you will want to tell everything about how you lived, that Joselete, Joseph, and Edgar were so familiar to your family that they ended up being part of it while you were there. Do not rush when it is not necessary, enjoy the journey and leave a mark instead of only thinking about your destiny and going the maximum distance.

Remember that they taught you that the hour is only an approximation, that nothing is forever, that if we go slow it is because we go far. If you think you have a bad time remember the day you It hurt everything but you had to smile because the children looked at you, and nothing happened, you survived and you were proud of yourself. If something does not work, it can be fixed. Did not you see fixing a battery with a stick? Fatima did not heal a thousand wounds without having a fucking idea? And it did not matter, the important thing was to get to bed, give good night to the angels and fall dead to the second until reliving the coma six hours later because the boss was organizing the battalion. And you hated it, fuck it if you hated it, but you woke up like a champion and kept going and you did not realize that in your fucking life you had got up so early. And now that you can sleep as much as you want, you wake up at seven in the morning because you think you’re wasting your time.

The same now I see it clearly and when I read this in a while I have forgotten, but, dear future me, what I want to tell you is that you went to Zambia being Spanish and there you lost the papers, they taught you to be happy with little and you were envious of the real smiles that the children had. Your eyes changed the skin and the women seemed wonderful and the colors more vivid, the food tasted better and every day was not the best day of your life, but almost.

I want to remind you that it did not change the world, it was still a fucking disgust, you changed. You realized that every little step matters, that to move the moon you must first lose the fear of heights and fall, that a compliment never hurts.

That now when you wake up in the mornings in the fight against the routine in your team is all Mwandi. That you must return because you have taken much more than you left. That you are another, that you never forget it, never. I am writing this so that you never lose the way you have found when you leave, the one that will take you back again and again to Africa. Let your words be the guide that leads others to turn their eyes towards that place of story from which all your legends come out, that you be the speaker of their glories and problems so that if for you tomorrow a battalion would come to help without reservations No doubts You have changed things, but do not forget that you must tell them stories at your height, you do not have to invent them, you have seen elephants and lions, you have bathed in a waterfall touching the clouds with your fingers, you have seen things that you would not believe possible on any Sunday on earth. It is in your hand and in the hands of all those who passed by to stop being the forgotten country of Africa.

I write this and I publish it so that I never remember forgetting. That I went without a plan, I came back with a compass that always points to the South. The skin does not forget, the ink does not either. Written remains.

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