Road night is as a text autobiographical: the narrator-author demonstrates what we experienced during the 1997 war, which continues to challenge the Congolese, especially those whose hands do not know how to grab something other than the pen to denounce the horrors that men do to each other with such application.
Dominique Ngoi-Ngalla, scholar, poet, writer recounts a particular day, the one that led him to leave hurriedly Dolisie Congo town overtaken by the war, to his native village, Mandou . He walks all day but above all night, and the long march " through the night " also reflects the progression of his thought which makes its way through the obscure destiny of African countries to find the light. Light, would not it beautiful? And the beauty of the sky observed by time moonlight Is not own to be printed in itself the feeling of the divine?
The author's story is interspersed with reflections on Africa and on the existence of God, so that it can be considered an autobiography, as a romance or a long new, this text also takes on the appearance of a test.
Africa is often at the heart of the media, he brought joy to the radio " gleefully depicts, for the entertainment of the West in search of sensational, the sorrows and miseries of the Africa, this large patient that we know, no one attends, but that once dead, will be discussed outraged, in European parliaments and the UN . " (Route Night, p. 11-12)
How not to wonder about the history of mankind, " full of sound and fury. The war and violence everywhere, anytime ? The history of Africa in particular, especially in recent decades, the spectacle of violence to the point that some languages speak of "curse". ; What can deconstruct this view?
Text sober Road night heard a lyric voice, full of emotion, a harsh voice, too, especially when we must speak of the African elite, composed of people " highly educated but uncultured " (p. 51) or symbolic of this mother:
"France, which for many years, had fed her bread and her letters, a mother, after all, but recent history and the new staining of its relations with Black Africa now forced me to judge without complacency, but not without pain. I so loved this country! " (p. 31)
The author thus comes to distinguish two France, one that has many titles to claim, including that of "homeland of human rights" and other less glorious, ungrateful
"Poor devils Negroes" You're nothing but those stupid smiles on billboards in the suburbs of Paris and Parisian subway entrances! You do not exist. You [...] on which rested at the height of Danger, the destinies of France. In this terrible summer of 1941, a non-Brazzaville and Congo to the Call of De Gaulle was famous enough for France was lost. And yet how many French people now realize have a little happiness to the Negro Felix Eboue and Senegalese riflemen from Brazzaville, Abidjan, Dakar, Niamey, Libreville that France rejects today with brutality as terrible and evil stinking beasts, for they lack a little bit of paper? "( p.38-39)
If you want to pursue meditation, you know what you have to do.
Dominique Ngoi-Ngalla, Road night, Publibook, 2006, 74 pages, 10 €.
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