Ojo por ojo y el mundo se quedara ciego.


wildlifeanimalsworld:

Shoebill at Uganda Wildlife Education Center (UWEC) by padjo
Captive Shoebill at Uganda Wildlife Education Center
Birds,Entebbe,Shoebill,Uganda

6 notes • Samedi, septembre 13, 2014 • reblog this

namuganyi:

A lady digging. In the background, Lake Victoria.
Entebbe, Uganda.

15 notes • Samedi, septembre 13, 2014 • reblog this

Entebbe is waiting for me! Bye Bye Europa!

0 notes • Mercredi, septembre 03, 2014 • reblog this

Africa it is NOT a country.
 

(Me, when people tell me to be careful with ebola becouse i’m going to Uganda)
0 notes • Jeudi, août 28, 2014 • reblog this

3 notes • Jeudi, août 28, 2014 • reblog this

truthandmovies:

LARS VON TRIER WRITES A SCREENPLAY

319 notes • Jeudi, août 28, 2014 • reblog this

686 notes • Jeudi, août 28, 2014 • reblog this

1 086 notes • Samedi, août 23, 2014 • reblog this

unpaislibre:

Sobre la pobreza y el hambre
Una de las mayores contradicciones de nuestro mundo, y crímenes de nuestro sistema ya mundial, es la pobreza y el hambre.El mal llamado “primer mundo”, disfruta de un nivel de consumo desenfrenado (si puedes adaptarte y pagarlo, porque sino eres un excluido), en donde el derroche está garantizado; mientras el “tercer mundo” se despelleja a si mismo por un plato de frijoles. Esto nos parece mezquinamente hasta natural, algo inevitable y que sabemos que existe, si no se ha viajado, por los informativos y la prensa. El hambre es cultura en África y Asia, se puede llegar a afirmar."Cómete eso maldito niño, que ya le gustaría a los negritos de África tener comida todos los días", nos han intimidado las madres durante varias generaciones, ajenas a la atroz verdad oculta tras esa recriminación. ¿Por qué hay hambre en esos países, si nosotros podemos (o podíamos) comer de sobra? Pues por la neocolonización, respuesta no tan obvia para la sabiduría maternal media.El mercado se ha expandido tras la caída de la URSS y la nula oposición balanceadora al capitalismo. Ya no hay fronteras para el dinero y el “nuevo orden mundial” del que tanto se habló en los 90, pero en los 2000 se callaron, empieza a ser un hecho. En consecuencia cualquier país que se atreve a ponerle fronteras al capital es criminalizado, pues vulnera los “principios básicos de la libertad y la democracia”. El capital debe moverse libremente por el mundo, debemos disfrutar de la libertad económica que trae la inversión extranjera, pues son necesarias para el idílico prosperar del que disfrutamos en occidente. El mismo cuento se repite allá donde se encuentre la miseria, sin excepción.Saquean recursos naturales con la complicidad de los gobiernos locales, explotan la mano de obra barata del país a un dólar al día, transportan hasta occidente para vender caro lo producido barato y al final acaban llevándose los dividendos a sus cuentas privadas. Beneficio, eso es todo lo que importa, el resto es prescindible y les suda la polla. ¿A quién le importan estos muertos de hambre? A nosotros desde luego no.Millones deben morirse de hambre, para que 100 sean multimillonarios. No hay verdad más atroz de este sistema de depredación humana que nos domina.

193 notes • Samedi, août 23, 2014 • reblog this

kathpierces:

"I’ve been doing some research. In real life there is no algebra."
Twin Peaks (1990)

27 347 notes • Samedi, août 23, 2014 • reblog this

(fascista, capitalista,sistema,crecimiento)

5 322 notes • Vendredi, août 22, 2014 • reblog this

0 notes • Vendredi, août 22, 2014 • reblog this

autopsi-art:

Peace unleashed de Goin (Matonge, Kinshasa, RD Congo - 2014)

22 notes • Mercredi, août 20, 2014 • reblog this

It’s Monday. I’m going home at 6pm and a middle aged man and a teenage boy are the only people left on the bus with me. I consider the fact that because the driver is also a man I am the only person left on the bus with the correct genetic makeup for boobs. I’m automatically scared, scared because of my own anatomy. I wonder how old I was when I realized that my own body was going to be the cause of the constant anxiety and fear I feel in situations like this. I get off at the last stop and the older man smiles at me while following me up the street. His smile drips, drips, drips and my heart is pounding, pounding, pounding. He turns off down another road, but I run the rest of the way home.

Not all men.

I’m at home on a Tuesday, beginning to plan the travels I want to go on next year. I dream of wandering the streets and meeting strangers. I just can’t wait to escape the city I’ve lived in for 17 long years. But… my mum is hesitant. She’s forever worried about the danger that being a young girl traveling alone can bring. I’ll be alone and she’s scared. Surely I’m invincible. I feel invincible. But I know, I know this danger is real and I can’t help but think to myself, if I feel unsafe in my own city, how am i going to feel in a strange place with strange men who don’t speak the same language as me? If I was my brother planning this, I would probably just be wondering if European girls are going to be hot.

Not all men.

Wednesday is a beautiful sunny day but I’ve always been told that I don’t have a “nice enough body” to wear a bikini on the beach. Ever since I was 6 years old I’ve thought that having tummy fat was ugly. That skin that doesn’t have a perfectly golden glow is undesirable. I amble to a clear patch of sand in my one piece and I can feel pairs of eyes latching onto me. Hairy men in speedos who I don’t look twice at eat into my body with their stares. I’m a piece of meat. I am a piece of meat? I am here for their amusement. Please don’t let me be eaten alive.

Not all men.

Thursday night two friends and I are walking to our god damn school dance when we hear “Jesus look at you! You sluts heading to a pole?” These words snarl out of the mouth of a respectably dressed man and we stop in horror. Shivers roll up my back in fear. It’s dark. We are alone. What. Do. We. Do??? One of us pulls the finger back. I can never be sure how quickly a sexist man can get angry so we walk quickly away. We’re angry, so so angry. But also so… deflated. I wonder if we deserve this shame.

Not all men.

Sitting on the internet, Friday night and scrolling down my Facebook newsfeed:

“Haha, good job at the game today bro. You RAPED them!”
“Damn with tits like that, you’re asking for it :P”

Another sexist comment…
Another sexist comment…
Another sexist comment…

I’m shrinking and shrinking and shrinking and I want to CRY because these boys don’t realize how small they make me feel with just pressing a few keys. I see these boys on the streets, I talk to these boys, I laugh with these boys. Dear GOD, dear GOD i hope these boys don’t think actions speak louder than words…

Not all men.

Three rules that have been drilled into me since I was young run through my mind at 1.30am on a Satur… Sunday Morning:

-Don’t ever talk to strange men
-Don’t ever be alone at night in a strange place
-Don’t ever get into a car with a stranger

I break all 3 of these laws as I pull open the taxi door. Making light conversation with the driver, he doesn’t see my sweaty hand clutching the small pocket knife I keep hidden on me at all times. He doesn’t even realize the fear I feel at his mere presence. He cannot comprehend it, he never will. How easy would this 15 minute car ride be if I was born a boy?

Not all men.

It comes to Sunday, another snoozy, sleepy, Sunday and someone has the AUDACITY to tell me not all men are rapists. I say nothing.

I’m a 17 year old girl.
When I am walking alone and it’s dark, it’s all men.
When I am in a car with a man I don’t know well, it’s all men.
When men drunkenly leer at me on the streets, it’s all men.
When a boy won’t leave me alone at a party, it’s all men.

Not all men are rapists. But for a young girl like me? Every one of them has the potential to be.

Not.
All.
Men.

 

a piece i wrote for an english assignment about my personal experiences with rape culture, in particular with the saying “not all men” which i know has been makin a lot of controversy on the internet recently! idk just wanted to share (via trueho)
118 486 notes • Mercredi, août 20, 2014 • reblog this

theniftyfifties:

Artwork by Virgil Finlay for Science Stories, December 1953.

355 notes • Mercredi, août 20, 2014 • reblog this