As Aventuras de um Chinês em Moçambique
A África tornou-se uma terra de aventura para os chineses que querem enriquecer. Apesar de não haver números oficiais, calcula-se que nos últimos anos tenha entrado em África mais de um milhão destes aventureiros à procura de fortuna. Howard W. French, um reputado jornalista americano, acaba de publicar a história do seu encontro em Moçambique com um destes chineses. Imperdível.
1 Million Chinese Building an Empire in Africa
Although there are no official figures, evidence suggests that at least a million private Chinese citizens have arrived on African soil since 2001, many entirely of their own initiative,not by way of any state plan.This “human factor”has done as much as any government actionto shape China’s image in Africa and condition its tics to the continent.
By the time I met Hao, in early 2011, merchants in Malawi, Namibia, Senegal, and Tanzania were protesting the influx of Chinese traders.
In the gold-producing regions of southern Ghana, government officials were expelling Chinese wildcat miners.
And in Zambia, where recent Chinese arrivals had established themselves in almost every lucrative sector of the economy, their presence had become a contentious issue in national elections.
Why 1 million Chinese migrants are building a new empire in Africa
After days of coordinating with me over patchy cell phone connections, Hao Shengli arrived in Mozambique’s capital city of Maputo. He’d come to load up on supplies and to collect me for the long ride back to the farmland he owned in a remote southern part of the country.
When his white Toyota pickup stopped in front of my hotel, Hao was barking into his phone. He was in a hurry, and he was angry. There was a brisk handshake, followed by a lot more shouting in salty Chinese as he struggled to make himself understood by a country man from whom, I could grasp, he wanted to buy goods.
“China is a big fucking mess with all of its ‘fucking dialects,’” Hao said to me in English after hanging up.
As I stood there, already sweating in the midmorning heat, Hao began to train his abuse on John, his tall and sinewy Mozambican driver, who had been coolly smoking a cigarette while rearranging the supplies on the Toyota’s flatbed to make room for my bags.
“You, cabeça não bom, motherfucker,” he said. The final curse came in Chinese: he’d employed three languages in one short and brutal sentence… Continua aqui