Several people from the Comoros have written me via email. I expect even the most remote areas will have some sort of Internet access within five years. This will have to be driven by knowledge-based workers receiving or transmitting data for their research, such as doctors, aid-workers, or even local entrepreneurs. On the other hand, it is impossible to overlook the fact that the forces of nature are not easily overcome by gadgets that are based on a fault-tolerant network and supplies. The best tools for the job are ones that are easily and cheaply repaired or, even better, replaced. Unfortunately digital cameras do not grow well in the jungle, so when my Olympus 3040Z started to die, I was forced to make hasty field repairs and dream of organic and disposable digital cameras.
I will put a few shots from the trip together today and put them online, although one photo just had to go into the scrapbook; there are over a thousand photos that take up about 5.5 GB of space. I need to consider paper for exhibits and friends in the Comoros. Right now I am pricing the Epson Perfection 2450 photo scanner and Canon S900 printer. Suggestions welcome.
I have to admit it was nice to have virtually no access to electricity, let alone a phone line, for a whole month — surrounded by mangos, coconuts, guava, bananas, fish, bats…not to mention a dance every night.
I never chose my nose to be,
a statement of longevity.
Its grandeur lies within its size,
and the way it looms between my eyes;
and the way it leads me from meal to meal.
Some wonder if the bulbous thing
is mine. And is it really real?
From my childhood days I wore it,
like a crown my mom adored it.
My father who had a big one too,
said son, its something to get used to;
and if children taunt you, dont forget,
there are bigger things you will regret,
and your nose will grow much bigger yet.
So big in fact that when I sneeze,
the trees around me lose their leaves.
It precedes me into any room,
but it has always made the ladies swoon.
People often say to I,
smaller noses we have seen,
on elephants and rhinoceri!
Me and my nose are stuck together,
weather for worse or maybe better.
It gives my face a regal look;
and helps turn pages in this book.
And when they put me in a basket,
tell the one that builds my casket:
to cut a hole on top so I,
can smell the flowers when I die…
The weather in the Comoros looks pleasant. Almost a constant 28° C. I fly out tomorrow and meet Loubnat in Paris. I hope to update this page as I go, but if not, see you all when I return.