Welcome to Travel Readings
Melbourne: The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas
Books, Movies and Beyond…
Books, Movies and Beyond…: Washington, DC and New York
Books, Movies and Beyond…: Rome
Rio de Janeiro: Crimes of August (Agosto) by Rubem Fonseca
Istanbul: The Museum of Innocence by Orhan Pamuk
Liège (Belgium): Pedigree by Georges Simenon
Books, Movies and Beyond…: Lisbon
Books, Movies and Beyond…: Cambodia
Hyde Park, Chicago: Ravelstein by Saul Bellow
Paris: Flowers of Ruin and Suspended Sentences by Patrick Modiano
Books, Movies and Beyond…: Naples
Books, Movies and Beyond…: Tanzania
Sri Lanka: Running in the Family by Michael Ondaatje
Books, Movies and Beyond… : Venice
Dublin: The Dead by James Joyce
Books, Movies and Beyond: Iran
Santa Cruz, Bolivia: The Matter of Desire (Materia del Deseo) by Edmundo Paz Soldán
Books, Movies and Beyond: Syria
Djibouti: Passage of Tears (Passage des Larmes) by Abdourahman Waberi
Books, Movies and Beyond: Armenia
Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso: The Parachute Drop by Norbert Zongo
Bangkok: Sightseeing by Rattawut Lapcharoensap
Périgord, France: The Caves of Périgord by Martin Walker
Books, Movies and Beyond: Brussels
Naples: The Neapolitan Novels by Elena Ferrante
Books, Movies and Beyond: Rio de Janeiro
Tajikistan: Hurramabad by Andrei Volos
New-York: City on Fire by Garth Risk Hallberg
Israel and Palestine: To the End of the Land by David Grossman and Wild Thorns by Sahar Khalifeh
Books, Movies and Beyond: Bavaria and Southern Germany
Cape Town: Boyhood, Youth and Summertime by J.M. Coetzee
Books, Movies and Beyond: India
Blue Ridge Mountains: Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier
Books, Movies and Beyond: Algeria
Austrian Alps: A Whole Life (Ein ganzes Leben) by Robert Seethaler
Books, Movies and Beyond: Africans in America
Zimbabwe: The Last Resort by Douglas Rogers
Books, Movies and Beyond: Colombia
Belgian Ardennes: The All Saints’ Day Lovers by Juan Gabriel Vásquez
Côte d’Ivoire: Aya of Yop City by Marguerite Abouet and Clément Oubrerie
Japan: Haruki Murakami and Amélie Nothomb
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York: The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt and The Rope and The Denial of Saint Peter by Charles Baudelaire
Books, Movies and Beyond: Cairo
Vancouver: What is Remembered by Alice Munro
Ghent (Belgium): War and Turpentine by Stefan Hertmans
Haiti: An Aroma of Coffee and Dining with the Dictator by Dany Laferrière and The Comedians by Graham Greene
Iceland: Jar City by Arnaldur Indriðason
Siena and Tuscany : Il Palio delle contrade morte by Fruttero & Lucentini and The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje
China : Wild Swans. Three Daughters of China, by Jung Chang
Amsterdam: The Miniaturist by Jessie Burton
Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris
Former Soviet Union: The Unwomanly Face of War  by Svetlana Alexievich
Provence: The Horseman on the Roof by Jean Giono, La charrette bleue by René Barjavel, Madame de Sévigné and Ventoux by Bert Wagendorp
Moscow: The House of Government by Yuri Slezkine, The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov and Limonov by Emmanuel Carrère
Books, Movies and Beyond: Vietnam
Books, Movies and Beyond: The Wars in Vietnam

Djibouti: Passage of Tears (Passage des Larmes) by Abdourahman Waberi

Twenty years later. Or almost. And at first sight, very little had changed. The sun, the dust and the smells are still oppressing the wanderer who dares taking a stroll in the early afternoon around the white and blue mosque on Place Rimbaud. The sellers in their colorful boubous are sitting next to their fruit and khat stalls. A green and white taxicab rides – who knows by which miracle- the empty Boulevard de la République. But wait, the open-air cinema L’Odéon has closed its doors. Young ladies step down from overcrowded minibuses with elegance and restraint. The arcades downtown around Place Ménélik are sleepy, maybe anticipating the night’s frenzy. The railway along the Siesta beach, now disused, is still the street children’s playground.



Even the room in which I lived for two years in the cathedral’s shadow did not change at all. It still has the same turquoise door and shutters and the moisture stains eating the white wall from the bottom. I could have taken the same picture when I arrived twenty years ago.



I read the first pages of « Passage of Tears », the beautiful novel by Djiboutian author Abdourahman Waberi, in front of my former office. The book offered me a striking parallel. Djibril, born and raised in Djibouti, made his life in Canada and the US. His wife is Canadian.  After a long absence, he comes back to his childhood country for an intelligence mission. Investments are now burgeoning in Djibouti’s port. Navies from all over the world have understood the strategic potential of this little country guarding the Bab-el-Mandeb, « The Gate of Tears », the strait controlling the South of the Red Sea, opposite Yemen. In addition to the Somali pirates, it’s the fight against the Jihadists who has transformed this city-state into a hub for armies, drones and secret services. From that point of view, Djibouti changed a lot.



Back in Djibouti, Djibril gradually leaves his mission’s tracks and is confronted with echoes and wounds from his childhood. The stories told by his grand-father Assod. His friendship with David, a Yemeni Jew. And above all the defining rivalry with Jamal, his twin brother. He will not see him, but his brother might be the one who observes him and has him followed from the high security jail at the end of the Goubet al-Kharab where he is locked as an Islamic radical. A prisoner who meanwhile discovers the journey of the German philosopher Walter Benjamin, his exile, his flight from occupied France to Spain in 1940 and finally his suicide in Port-Bou’s dead end.


Devil’s Island, Goubet Al-Kharab

Like Djibril coming back to his childhood’s places, I was returning briefly to one of my youth’s cherished places. Then as now, I couldn’t care less about the heath or the dirt. Most of the people who I had mingled with were gone. Some were dead, others had left the country. But I was finding back the same expressions, the same smiles, somewhat defying, somewhat flirtatious.  Some Somali words were coming back on the tip of my tongue. I felt like a foreigner who very quickly finds his marks.

I was remembering the promised opportunities, measuring the journey accomplished, the choices made and the passages crossed. Not easy to look back without shedding some tears.

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