I’m Carlos Battaglini and I left everything to become a writer. Here you will find posts about my curious life in Liberia and other African countries. It is also where I immerse myself in the burning light of African literature through brutally honest book reviews. Welcome to your home and thanks for joining me on this adventure.
I left everything to become a writer, join me on this adventure.
Latest posts
HE RAISES HIS HAND. In the middle of the trial, the man with the gold earring raises his hand and asks for permission to go to the bathroom for a minute. The judge looks at the two police officers and concedes with a slight nod of the head. In Paynesville they continue talking about the…
“IT’S IN A STATE, MAN, GREECE IS IN A STATE,” says Frankie, a Liberian, as he noisily walks around his Portuguese friend, Gilberto’s kitchen in his kiwi green, scraggy shirt. “It’s in a state, man, Greece is in a state! I just got back from there and Jesus, it’s all stress and pressure; the bank…
There’s a certain military feel to the air, and people who come and go, smiling all over the place. To be exact, we are in the room that is trying to be a bar, surrounded by garish flags that hang from the ceiling, humus on the bar, more smiles and on the TV Jerry Lee…
I KNOW RIGHT FROM THE START THAT JOKERS IS NOT MY KIND OF BAR. The moment I step foot out of the taxi, I can sense a certain carefreeness and self-confidence in the air, and that certainly isn’t my type of night. I don’t belong here, so here I am. I then make my way…
“I have typhus, not today.” “Cool, come and watch the match then.” The first message is from Jacques, implying we will not be playing our usual game of tennis at the Ocean View compound at Mamba Point today. The second message is from Gilberto after finding out that I no longer have any plans. Rousseau…
WHAT IS YOUR NAME? It’s true. Every time you meet a Liberian and share a few seconds of your life, maybe a few minutes, they will ask you: “Your name?” “Carlos, my name is Carlos.” And then the greeting, clack, clack. Is Liberia. The other day I was on my way home, later than usual…
Just as I was leaving the office in Mamba Point, in Liberia, a guy turns around and says, “Hey, have a look!” Piano Teeth spoke to me in a firm, hoarse, commanding voice. He was crouching down on the pavement by the bend, almost hunched over as he entertained himself with the finishing details of…
FEAR IN BLACK AND WHITE. Some people have started leaving the bar, forming a scary, irregular line. “This bar is mine and I want to tell you loud and clear that over there by the bar, there are some guys who have bought their drinks outside and brought them in here. This bar is for…
The word Party encapsulates the meaning of the universe. The idea of a party offers an opportunity to escape from the powerful and dictatorial god by the name of Routine. When the lungs breathe out “party”, the possibility of possibility appears, dripping with adrenaline. A someone. Let us reveal the secret once and for all:…
THE FOOD TAKES A WHILE TO COME. The food sometimes takes a while to come in Liberia. So instead of having lunch, we keep making our way into Nimba County and head towards the next village, Bounaldine, in our rickety brown Toyota Hilux. André, by the way, sits in the back throughout the journey, throughout…
Latests posts
ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF MONROVIA, LIBERIA. IN THE MIDDLE OF DEPRIVATION AND AN IMMORTAL ENERGY, we get out the Toyotas Prado and make our way to a crumbling school that was hosting several scattered polling stations. It seemed as if the whole neighbourhood had already voted at these tables because the rooms were practically empty;…
Read more
It’s the brakes. A steel voice informs me that something is wrong with the brake fluid. My car is not up to it, or perhaps it’s just melancholic. And since then, I walk. Now I am a white guy whose soles tread upon the tarmac of Mamba Point and who’s covered in sweat by the…
Read more
Americanah is the story of Ifemelu, a Nigerian girl who decides to leave her country for a period of time, to go and study in the United States in search of a better life. After some time, she returns to Nigeria full of all types of experiences. The two journeys differ greatly. In Nigeria, Ifemelu…
Read more
I SLEEP IN GBENEQUELLEH IN A TINY ROOM with no mosquito net, hoping malaria in Liberia doesn’t recognise me. Deep into the night, an overwhelming silence alternates with the roar of generators. I am tired and can hardly sleep. The next morning, Fred springs straight up, so he has obviously had a good rest compared to…
Read more
SOMETIMES IT HAPPENS. You are walking in the middle of a Liberian road, heading in some direction and a question falls on your head in the form of a guillotine and covered in scales that must be silver with grey stains. A little blurry. Why the calm? Was I like a desert? Why the tranquility?…
Read more
HE SPEAKS CALMLY, KEEPING THE SAME TONE OF VOICE THROUGHOUT. He moves his hands slowly, only half looking at you, steadily interrupting your rushed arguments and shakes his head a couple of times as you speak. Every two or three minutes, as we talk over dinner at the Royal Hotel sushi restaurant, the UNMIL policeman…
Read more
Helene Cooper tells us that she had ancestors on the colonisation ships coming from the United States, specifically Elijah Johnson, a man with a lot of character and a bit of a rebel, who came on one of those ships that arrived at the Liberian coast to settle there. Shortly after the “deal” or rather…
Read more
CONSISTENT WITH THE IDEA THAT HUMAN BEINGS ARE ANIMALS who usually have dinner at night, I logically attended the collation at the Korean restaurant at Bushrod Island, Monrovia, in the evening. As you do. I walked up the entrance stairs and joined a group of twelve to fourteen people, speaking with their mouths, looking through their eyes,…
Read more
Why Nobody Knows When He Will Die is a book that consists of ten stories on different subjects of everyday African and Liberian reality, many of which can be extrapolated to the rest of the world (bearing in mind cultural differences). The stories are written in the third person and are narrated in a precise,…
Read more There’s a certain military feel to the air, and people who come and go, smiling all over the place. To be exact, we are in the room that is trying to be a bar, surrounded by garish flags that hang from the ceiling, humus on the bar, more smiles and on the TV Jerry Lee…
Read moreAfrica
“I have typhus, not today.” “Cool, come and watch the match then.” The first message is from Jacques, implying we will not be playing our usual game of tennis at the Ocean View compound at Mamba Point today. The second…
Ingrid still had not recovered and she was lying down, her body paralysed into a triangular shape and submerged in a deep dream or horrible nightmare. It was time for lunch and we had to leave the lush green of…
ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF MONROVIA, LIBERIA. IN THE MIDDLE OF DEPRIVATION AND AN IMMORTAL ENERGY, we get out the Toyotas Prado and make our way to a crumbling school that was hosting several scattered polling stations. It seemed as if…
Africa
“NO. IT’S NOT MALARIA,” said Drazen, dripping, “it’s something else. Something cold that gets in your bones.” Only the food, which finally arrived in the form of chicken, rice and cassava fish, interrupts the silence. We discover that we are,…
WHAT SHOULD I CALL IT? Jungle? Rainforest? Forest? Wilderness? Luxuriant foliage? There is definitely no word that can precisely define where I am heading to in Liberia. Countryside could be an option, but that doesn’t quite do it for me…
The House at Sugar Beach is an autobiographical novel (it may also be considered quite simply a novel) written by the journalist and diplomatic correspondent…
Americanah is the story of Ifemelu, a Nigerian girl who decides to leave her country for a period of time, to go and study in…
Don’t miss
I SLEEP IN GBENEQUELLEH IN A TINY ROOM with no mosquito net, hoping malaria in Liberia doesn’t recognise me. Deep into the night, an overwhelming silence…
WE LEAVE GBARNGA BEHIND. It hits us that this time we are going for good and we are suddenly overwhelmed with sadness: the green and…
For those who have lived and worked in Liberia, or for those who are doing so at present, Blue Clay People will seem very close…
The Shadow of the Sun narrates the experiences of the Polish journalist, Ryszard Kapuscinski in Africa. Kapuscinski lives in Africa not as a ‘happy tourist’,…
Don’t miss
FEAR IN BLACK AND WHITE. Some people have started leaving the bar, forming a scary, irregular line. “This bar is mine and I want to…
I’ve never had to deal with them. I don’t know what they talk about. I ignore what they like. In meetings, all countries are usually…
